#the silent sound of loneliness

[paintedonmyteeth]

World Cold and Hard, Titty Soft and Warm.

A/N: For some reason Tumblr wasn’t allowing me to write answers from that ask BUT I read it! Dw! I understand exactly where you want me to go with this lmao. No miscommunication there. I hope this is to your liking @tamakkkk :)) — I also decided to throw the mention of reader being in university ‘cause I wasn’t rlly a fan of the idea picturing them in their last year of Highschool.

Summary: You come home from yet another exhausting shift at work today, Mr. Crawling is concerned, but you don’t want to do anything except use him as your personal pillow.

(No warnings here! Just pure fluff and writing off of the Blissful Love Life ending ����)

Mr. Crawling has been pacing in the little corridor at the front door for hours now, sitting in front of it like an anxious puppy, eagerly waiting for your return. The weekdays were about the worst ones for Mr. Crawling, it’s all 'work work work'. And never enough time for you to spend with Mr. Crawling. You’d leave for hours for either uni or work, leaving Mr. Crawling all to his lonesome, with the things you’ve given him to keep him entertained. But it’s not enough! Mr. Crawling wants to spend his time with you, he wanted to hear your voice, your smile, your hugs, head pats, and kisses, he wanted everything. But he was also beginning to notice how work/uni had been taking a toll on you too, you always come back home looking utterly exhausted and tired which greatly concerned him. He didn’t like seeing this side of you at all.

Mr. Crawling was by the front door again, lazily sprawled out on the floor with his arms tucked under his chin as he looked at the door with a saddened expression.

“☨ บ п ป ☨ п ጉ υ п コ ㅗこ…?” (Human come home…?)

Mr. Crawling murmured sadly with a soft whine, his shoulders sagged to his dismay, his attention glued to the front door. The white noise brought by the deafening silence that filled the apartment rung in his ears, the soft engine of a car rolling down the street sounded outside the apartment. Mr. Crawling’s frown deepened, another soft whine escaping his sealed lips.

He was really missing you.

His head dropped into his arms and he lied there silently, his legs stretched out behind him. You were taking longer than expected and it was beginning to worry him. You were coming back, right…? No. He shook his head vigorously, he shouldn’t think like that. But the thoughts still persisted, the memories of a time before he met you crept back into his mind; the lonesome concrete corridors of the Ghost Apartments, the aching feeling of loneliness inside his chest, nothing but endless halls and rooms to keep him company.

His mind was delving further into negative thoughts and the white noise drumming in his ears was growing louder and louder until — the sound of a metallic click went off and his mind immediately went hushed as he watched the door slowly swing open and your exhausted figure appearing in the frame. Mr. Crawling’s head perked and he immediately sat up, his features contorting to a big smile. You came back home.

“ત ટ д ィコ π ጉ!” (You return!)

He beamed, a soft giggle escaping him as he crawled towards you. You gave Mr. Crawling a tired hum in response, a faint smile lighting up your weary features as you slipped off your shoes and lazily dropped your bag on the floor. Mr. Crawling was over the moon ecstatic of your return, chirping 'Home! Home! Home!' In his broken ghostly language.

You trudged towards him and suddenly dropped to your knees, drawing him into your tight embrace and he yelped when you tipped the both of them backwards and Mr. Crawling hit the floor with a thud. He immediately returned the gesture just as your arms fastened tightly around him. The warmth of your embrace washing away all his worries and negative thoughts within seconds. Concern and curiosity immediately flash through his features when he took notice of your exhaustion written on your face as you inched closer to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He sighed softly, reaching a hand up and cards his fingers through your hair, gently patting your head.

“Pat, pat.” He cooed quietly, his attempt at speaking your language a little broken and raspy sounding. But it’s a first. “こ ሰ п ㄷ?” (Sick?) Mr. Crawling questioned, he meant 'tired' in a sense, but his language was very limited of course.

You gave a soft tired hum in response and your eyes drooped shut. Mr. Crawling clung to you in reaction, his nose nestled into your hair as he took in the scent that was uniquely yours.

“々 ሰ π п?” (Rest?)

“々 ሰ π п.” (Rest.)

[a-heart-noble-and-bright]

[ID: A digital piece of fanart depicting William James Moriarty from Yuukoku no Moriarty. He's standing in the corner of a room with dark brown wooden flooring and light blue wallpaper covering the walls. The floor, including the area where William is stepping on, is partially stained dark red. There's a window to his right from which white light enters the room. In front of him are a small wooden table with a flower vase on top of it and a painting of him, Louis and Albert hanging on the wall. William is smoking a cigarette while staring at the painting and his expression can't be seen. He's holds a revolver behind his back. End ID]

“I am in blood stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o’er.”

[cumironi]

HUMP, HUMP, LOVELY LITTLE HUMP, choso. k

you and choso kamo are supposed to spend the night just to enjoy some wine and a calm atmosphere deep inside the forest of the school ground, but it seems like the half-curse starts feeling a little bit too human..

warning. public space, humping, grinding, pet-names.

after the chaos of the shibuya incident, you and choso found yourselves drawn together in ways that surprised you both. it was an event that left deep scars, taking away far too many friends, colleagues, and students who meant the world to you. in those dark days, as you tried to move on, choso was always there—quietly supportive, offering a steady shoulder to lean on. somehow, despite his own pain and loss, he always seemed to know exactly when you needed someone, as though he could sense your sorrow before you could even voice it.

day by day, choso’s presence became something familiar and grounding, a rare comfort amidst the lingering grief. as you spent more time together, you noticed how naturally you fell into conversation, how easy it was to share the heavy silence or laugh at some small, passing joke. with each conversation, each silent moment, you could feel the distance between you shrinking. before long, he wasn’t just a friend but someone who understood your pain and could bear the weight of it alongside you.

but then, something shifted—almost imperceptibly at first. you found yourself becoming hyper-aware of his every little detail: the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, the comforting warmth of his quiet presence, even the way he listened so intently, as though he wanted to absorb every word you said. his voice had a gentle timbre that seemed to settle the unease in your heart, and his hands, so steady and sure, held a tenderness you hadn’t noticed before.

you began catching yourself lingering on these small, delicate observations, wondering if he noticed your gaze lingering just a little too long. each gesture felt like it held a quiet significance. the tension between you two was subtle, simmering just beneath the surface—a spark that hadn’t quite ignited, but was there all the same. and as the days went on, it became harder to deny that something was shifting between you, a quiet spark that seemed to grow brighter with every shared look, every gentle touch, and every stolen moment in the stillness of loss.

in the quiet embrace of the woods on school grounds, you and choso sat nestled under the towering trees. the night was calm, draped in the silvery glow of the moon, casting everything in a delicate, ethereal light. beside you, choso was close enough that you could feel his warmth, your backs pressed gently against the sturdy trunk of the tree, as though it were holding you both up, anchoring you to this quiet moment.

the woods around you was alive with a soft symphony of nighttime sounds—the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the gentle hum of distant crickets, and the occasional whisper of branches swaying above. moonlight filtered down through the canopy, breaking into scattered pools of silver around you, illuminating the world in a soft glow that felt almost magical.

you glanced over at choso, noticing how the pale light softened his features, casting shadows along the curve of his cheek and highlighting the thoughtful expression in his eyes. there was something serene about his presence, a quiet strength that comforted you, grounding you in this stillness. without a word, he met your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had faded away, leaving just the two of you, bathed in the cool light of the moon.

as the night stretched on, you found yourself lost in the details—the way the moonlight danced across his face, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, and the comforting warmth of his shoulder just a breath away. sitting there together, the weight of words seemed unnecessary. the silence was thick, not with loneliness, but with a silent understanding that you both shared.

you raise the bottle of wine to your lips, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat as your gaze drifts over to choso. tonight, he looks different—not in his usual dark, battle-worn attire, but something softer, more relaxed. he’s dressed in a pair of loose, dark baggy jeans that hang comfortably on him, and a deep navy knit button-down with a few buttons left undone, exposing a hint of skin at his collar. his long, dark hair, usually tied back with a certain restraint, now cascades freely over his shoulders, framing his face in the moonlight.

there’s something almost vulnerable in this new look, a side of him you hadn’t seen before, and you can’t help the smirk that curves on your lips as you take him in. “you look good,” you murmur, voice soft but laced with a teasing warmth. choso’s eyes flick up to yours, a faint surprise lingering in his gaze, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimmer of something softer beneath his usual stoic exterior.

in the stillness, you realize he seems more human like this—more approachable, more tangible, the hardness of his role as a curse softened by the simplicity of casual clothes. his expression shifts slightly, almost self-conscious under your gaze, yet he doesn’t look away. the moonlight plays over his face, casting gentle shadows, and for a second, it feels as if the weight of his past falls away, leaving just him—raw and real, sitting beside you in the quiet night.

as you lean back against the tree, choso’s eyes seem to soften in the dappled moonlight. there’s a subtle warmth in his usually stoic gaze that mirrors the quiet understanding woven into the night. he nods, his low, gravelly voice carrying a rare note of vulnerability as he responds to your teasing remark.

“thanks. it’s... different,” he admits, his voice quieter than usual. “i’m trying to... be more normal, i guess.” choso glances down, almost shyly, as if the simplicity of his choice— with yuuji’s help, in outfit is something he’s not used to voicing out loud.

you lean back against the rough bark, adjust your back to find a comfortable spot, letting a soft smile play on your lips as you listen to choso’s quiet admission. there’s something almost endearing about his choice of words, the faint hesitation as he glances down, as if self-conscious about this simple, casual look he’s trying on for the first time. his usual stoicism is softened, and you can feel a warmth in the air, a quiet vulnerability that seems to belong solely to this moment.

“well, you’re doing a pretty good job of it,” you say, your voice carrying a playful edge as you study him. “honestly, you look more human than a curse right now.” he looks up at you, eyes widening slightly, curiosity flickering in his gaze. you reach out, fingertips grazing his cheek in a gentle, teasing touch. “though, if you really want to blend in, maybe just a little foundation to warm up that pale skin, and you’d be all set,” you add with a smirk.

a soft blush rises beneath your fingers, barely visible in the moonlight but enough to make you notice. choso lets out a quiet chuckle, and the sound is warm, low, carrying a softness that catches you off guard. there’s a momentary flicker of surprise in choso’s eyes at the feel of your fingertips on his cheek. yet, he doesn’t pull away, his gaze fixing on yours, almost as though he’s trying to understand the unfamiliar sensation.

he simply looks at you, his gaze deepening, as though trying to understand something he’s only just now beginning to feel. he holds himself still, his body so near to yours, his proximity like a warm current in the chilled night air. for the first time, he seems relaxed, his usual stoic facade slipping away, replaced by a quiet, thoughtful expression.

“is that so?” he murmurs, voice barely more than a low rumble. he stays like this a while, just looking at you, his face cast in the soft glow of the moonlight. the forest hums with life around you, the soft hooting of an owl somewhere in the distance, the rustle of wind through the trees. but choso’s attention is focused on you, a rare intensity in his gaze. his voice, when he speaks, is a soft murmur—quieter than normal, almost as though he’s afraid of breaking the moment.

you nod slowly, letting your fingers linger for just a second longer on his cheek, the slight warmth of his skin beneath your touch almost startling. your gaze softening as you lean just a fraction closer. “it is so,” you murmur back, your voice as gentle as a breeze. your fingertips linger on his cheek longer than you intend to, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath them grounding you in the closeness of this quiet, unexpected moment. for a heartbeat, you wonder if he feels the same spark, the same undeniable warmth threading between you.

reluctantly, you pull your hand away, the night air rushing into the space between you as you reach for the bottle once more, taking a slow sip. it’s only then that you notice your leg, bare beneath the almost-too-short hem of your skirt, is brushing lightly against his. the touch is subtle, barely there, but enough to send a quiet thrill through you, a reminder of how near he is, how his warmth radiates even in the cool night air.

choso’s gaze flickers downward, catching the subtle contact, and for a brief moment, his expression softens further. his eyes trail over the gentle line of your leg resting against his, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. he doesn’t shift away, holding himself steady, his attention returning to your face as though savoring every detail. a subtle smile plays on his lips, almost shy, and the quiet understanding that’s passed between you grows, filling the spaces between words, settling like a secret shared only by the two of you.

as you sip from the bottle, choso’s gaze lingers on the curve of your neck, the gentle movements of your throat. the moon casts a delicate light over the contours of your face, adding a touch of softness to the shadows that cling to your features. the night, once filled with the soft symphony of the forest, seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you in this quiet, almost intimate space.

choso’s gaze drifts slowly to your lips, glistening with a faint sheen of red wine, and his eyes linger there, a barely perceptible intensity flickering in their depths. for a moment, he seems lost, captivated by the sight before him, his expression softened in a way you’ve rarely seen. his gaze trails downward, over the curve of your neck, and settles on your bare thigh, just inches away from his.

his voice, low and almost reverent, breaks the silence. “you look beautiful,” he whispers, the words slipping out like a quiet confession meant only for you. “as always.”

a warmth spreads through you, deeper than the wine, more stirring than the moonlight. his words settle in the night air, soft and genuine a little bit of flirtatious, and your heart races at the quiet vulnerability in his tone. his eyes lift back to yours, holding a tenderness that makes you feel as though time itself has paused, allowing you both to savor this moment suspended in the cool night.

you take in a breath, finding yourself inching just a little closer, captivated by the depth in his gaze and the softness of his words, feeling the spark between you both ignite into something undeniable.

you hum softly in satisfaction at his compliment, a warm flutter blooming in your chest at his genuine words. the way he looks at you, like he truly sees you, sends a delightful shiver down your spine. “thanks,” you reply, your voice laced with a hint of bashfulness as you set the wine bottle down beside you, the clink of glass breaking the lingering silence.

the night wraps around you both, heavy with unspoken feelings, and you can’t help but smile, feeling a mix of gratitude and something more profound. the compliment hangs in the air, resonating within you, and you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment a little longer. you turn your head slightly, catching his gaze once more, feeling the spark between you intensify as you savor the warmth of his presence and undeniable desire.

as you sit there, the night seems to hold its breath around you, the forest going still as if sensing the delicate moment between you. choso’s warm breath dances across your neck, carrying the faint scent of wine and a subtle note of something more intimate. the warmth radiating from his proximity mixes with the slight chill of night, creating a heady, intoxicating tension that sets your senses ablaze.

without thinking, you shift a little closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours, and your thigh presses more firmly against his. the wine in your veins gives you courage, or perhaps it’s something more raw and real, pushing away inhibitions and doubts. the proximity is exhilarating, making your heart race and your head spin in the best possible way. the air between you seems charged with energy, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken longings. you look up, meeting choso’s gaze, and in his eyes, you see a reflection of what you both feel, the unspoken desire mirrored back at you in his steady gaze.

for a fleeting moment, time stands still, the boundaries of your world shrinking until it’s just the two of you under the vast expanse of the starlit sky.

without breaking eye contact, choso moves slowly, deliberately, as he places his hand on your thigh. his palm, cool against your bare skin, sends an unexpected thrill coursing through you, a contrast to the warm, gentle night air. the sensation is both electrifying and soothing, grounding you in the moment as his touch lingers.

you can see the thoughtfulness in his eyes, the way he’s absorbing every detail of this intimate exchange. his fingers rest lightly on your thigh, a subtle weight that feels both protective and intimate. the world around you fades into a soft blur, the sounds of the night growing distant as all your focus narrows on the connection you share in this fleeting moment.

his gaze holds yours captive, revealing the depths of his emotions, and you can sense the vulnerability in him, the way he’s opening up to you without fear. the air crackles with unspoken words, and you find yourself leaning into the touch, drawn closer by the warmth radiating from him and the electric pull between you.

choso’s hand on your thigh feels like a cool brand against your bare skin, his touch both grounding and electrifying. his eyes, focused on yours, seem to be reading your every thought, your every emotion. the moment between you feels suspended in time, as if the rest of the world has faded away and it’s just the two of you, here in the quiet of the night.

his voice, low and deep, cuts through the silence, a husky whisper that holds a world of emotions. “can i...” he pauses, his gaze flicking down to your lips before returning to your eyes, “...kiss you?”

you breath caught in your throat as choso’s words hung in the air, a whispered admission of longing that was both vulnerable and intoxicating. the gentle pressure of his hand on your thigh only heightened the moment. your heart raced with anticipation as you found yourself lost in the intimate warmth of his gaze, the words unspoken yet speaking volumes. in that moment, you were acutely aware of everything— the touch of him, the night breeze, the rhythm of your shared breath.

you answered not with words, but with a nod, a silent agreement that the space between you was no longer a division, but an invitation. the quiet acceptance in your nod seemed to ignite something in choso. his gaze darkened with a smolder that sent a shiver racing down your spine. slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly as if in silent reassurance.

as he closed the distance between you, his breath mingled with yours, a shared heat in the cool night air. the anticipation was palpable, a tension that electrified the air between you. finally, his lips brushed against yours, a soft whisper of a touch that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

the kiss began as a gentle exploration—a soft press of lips against lips. choso’s hand on your thigh felt steadying, anchoring you to the moment. slowly, the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a growing intensity. his other hand reached up to cradle your cheek, his thumb tracing the contours of your face as if trying to memorize the way your skin felt beneath his touch. there was an almost feverish hunger in his kiss, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for eternity, and now that it was here, he couldn’t get enough of it.

choso pulls away from the kiss, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours as he gently places his hands on your hips. his touch is firm yet tender, and with a quiet strength, he lifts you effortlessly, guiding you to straddle his lap. the shift leaves you breathless, a soft gasp escaping as his hands settle on your hips, grounding you in his embrace.

your skirt rises slightly with the movement, the cool night air brushing against your thighs, adding a new layer of exhilaration to the moment. his gaze locks onto yours, eyes dark and intense, searching your face as though committing every detail to memory. there’s a softness in his expression, a quiet reverence that makes your heart race, and you feel yourself melting further into his hold, wrapped in the intimacy of his touch and the silent promise lingering between you.

as you settled onto his lap, your knees framing his hips, it felt as if the world had narrowed down to this single moment. choso’s hands anchored you in place, his touch both possessive and comforting. you could feel the hard contours of his thighs beneath you, the warmth of his body seeping into your core. your hands came up to rest on his shoulders, fingers tracing the outline of his muscles, feeling his strength and his warmth.

his lips returned to yours, his kiss more insistent this time. his hands on your hips pulled you closer, making you keenly aware of every breath, every heartbeat. this time, the kiss was filled with a deeper hunger, a need that seemed to transcend the physical. choso’s tongue flicked against yours, a gentle tease that ignited a fire in your core. his hands began to explore you, tracing a trail from your hips to your back, pulling you impossibly closer against him. the heat between you was growing, becoming almost unbearable, and yet you wanted more.

choso’s lips left yours and began to move down your neck, each press of his mouth against your skin sending another shockwave of sensation through you. his breath was hot, his hands restless, and it felt like the world around you had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you locked in an intimate dance of discovery.

your head fell back, giving choso better access to the curve of your neck, and your fingers tangled in his hair. you wanted to lose yourself in this moment, to drown in the sensation of his touch, his nearness, his every breath. choso’s lips, moving lower now, found the sensitive spot at the base of your throat, and you let out a soft moan, the sound swallowed by the night air.

“choso...” a soft, breathless whisper of his name escapes your lips, almost instinctively, as choso’s mouth trails down your throat. the sound of it, murmured in the night air, seems to urge him on, his grip on you tightening just enough to make you shiver. with your head tilted back, eyes closed, you’re completely lost in the sensation, the gentle brush of your eyelashes against your cheeks a subtle reflection of how fully immersed you are in the moment.

his lips press against your skin with a hunger that’s tempered by tenderness, each kiss sending a spark through you, igniting a warmth that spreads from your core to the very tips of of your fingers. your hands find their way into his hair once again, threading through the dark strands as you pull him closer, feeling his breath hot against your skin. every touch, every movement feels as though it’s deepening the connection between you.

choso’s response to your breathy whisper of his name was immediate. his hands tightened on your hips, grounding you against him as his lips continued their trail down your neck. he paused at your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin as he lingered there for a moment, drinking in the sensation of your hands in his hair and the sound of your soft sighs.

as his mouth continued its journey, he found the sensitive hollow at the base of your throat, and he lingered there, drawing out the sensation further. each gentle press of his lips felt like a match to a flame, sending waves of heat and pleasure coursing through you.

you could feel the taut line of his body beneath you, the way his muscles tensed and released with every movement, each movement drawing you closer into his orbit. your fingers twined in his hair, and you felt his touch moving lower, tracing the soft curve of your throat, then the exposed plane of your chest, just above the low neckline of your top. the contrast between the cool night air and the warmth of his mouth was intoxicating, and you found yourself willingly surrendering to the sensations.

as choso’s lips explored your sensitive skin, you couldn’t help but arch into him, craving more of that intoxicating touch. his hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you securely in place as if to anchor you amidst the swirling desires he was awakening within you.

you let out a soft gasp when his mouth moved lower, his warm breath fanning over your breasts before his lips made contact with the tender flesh above your top. your nipples hardened instantly, straining against the fabric as if begging for his attention.

“choso,” you breathed his name once again, your voice husky with need. your plea trailed off into a moan as he continued to lavish attention on your chest, his tongue darting out to taste the skin, leaving a tingling path in its wake. the sensation was both electrifying and soothing, sending jolts of pleasure straight to you core, unconsciously your hips began to moving on top of him.

his name on your lips, spoken so breathlessly, sent a renewed wave of desire coursing through choso. he responded to your soft moans and shivers with a gentle nip to your skin, causing your body to tremble under his touch. feeling your hips move in response to his caresses, a low growl stirred in his throat.

his hands moved to the hem of your top, his fingers sliding beneath the edge. the gentle touch against the sensitive skin of your sides made you shiver, your body responding to each sensation with a subtle arching movement, seeking more of his touch.

your body was alight with anticipation, every nerve ending attuned to choso’s touch. as his fingers slipped beneath your top, brushing against the bare skin of your waist, you couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through you. the sensation was electric, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

you arched into his touch once more, silently pleading for more— it’s like a game, you arched and pulled away, and arched and pulled away. your hands roamed over his muscular arms, feeling the strength coiled within them. the heat radiating from his body enveloped you, making you feel safe and desired all at once.

“please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “ want... i need...” your words trailed off into a moan as his fingers traced patterns on your skin, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. in that moment, lost in the haze of desire, nothing else mattered. your hips began to move more bold than before the moment you feel his hardness pressed against your core.

choso’s hands on your skin, tracing patterns of fire across your body, felt like a match to a gasoline-drenched inferno. it was almost sinful, the effect he had on you, the way your body reacted to his touch as if it was the first time you were feeling anything akin to desire. your body seemed to respond instinctively, arching towards him, pressing your softness against his hardness in a desperate plea.

the sound of your pleading whimper only seemed to fuel his desire further.

choso’s grip on your hips tightened, a raw hunger in his touch as your body moved against him, seeking friction in the growing tension between you. he pulled you closer, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck once more, as his hands moved up your sides to the edge of your top. his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, setting your nerves alight with a burning need. a low breath escaped him, a sound filled with both restraint and desire, and when he spoke, his voice was low and rough.

“need...” his fingers traced the curve of your ribcage, his touch both gentle and urgent “... you,” the last word fell from his lips like a plea, a whispered admission of a need as raw and urgent as the one he’d been stoking within you.

the fire in his eyes, his hands tracing a path of heat across your skin, all of it was making it hard for you to speak, to think... to do anything but feel. with a soft whine, your head tipped back, exposing your neck to him in an unspoken affirmation. he groaned at the gesture, the sound more animal than anything else, as if he was losing the fight to hold back.

your body was aflame with desire, every inch of your skin crying out for his touch. the sound of his voice, low and rough with need, sent shivers racing down your spine. his hands on your body felt like a brand, marking you as his own. your breath came in short, sharp gasps as his fingers danced along the edge of your top, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

when his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, you let out a soft cry, your body arching into his touch. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you dizzy with want. you could feel the heat building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might burst from the pressure.

your hands fisted in his hair, tugging gently as you guided his mouth back to yours, along with your hips start moving more purposefully against his clothed hardened cock, putting more pressure. the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins.

choso’s control snapped at the feeling of your hands in his hair, guiding his mouth to yours in a demand that left no room for argument. his lips crashed against yours in a fierce kiss, all teeth and tongue as he devoured the sweetness of your mouth. the taste of you was addictive, and he drank it in greedily, his hands roaming your body with a desperation that bordered on frantic.

he groaned into the kiss as you ground your hips against his, the pressure of your core against his hardness nearly unbearable. his own arousal throbbed in response, straining against the confines of his pants. the urge to tear away your clothes, to claim you fully, was almost overwhelming.

breaking the kiss, choso’s gaze locked onto yours, dark with lust and something deeper, more primal. “good... just like that,” he whispered.

your mind went blank at the intensity of his kiss, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his desire. his hands on your body felt possessive, claiming, and you reveled in the feeling of being owned by him in this moment. the scrape of his teeth against your lips sent a thrill through you, and you met his tongue with equal fervor, lost in the taste and scent of him.

your body was consumed by a raging fire of desire, every fiber of your being screaming for more of his touch. the heat between your legs was becoming unbearable, your core aching for relief. you needed him, needed to feel him inside you, filling you completely.

with trembling hands, you reached for the button of your top, undone few buttons. your breasts spilled free, the cool night air a stark contrast to the feverish heat of your skin. you watched as his gaze raked over your naked torso, his pupils dilating with undisguised hunger.

“touch me,” you pleaded, your voice hoarse with need. “i want to feel your hands on my skin.” your hips continued to grind against him, seeking relief from the ache building between your thighs. the pressure of his hardness against you was exquisite, and you found yourself wanting more, needing to feel him inside you.

his gaze darkened, his eyes darkening to a nearly black that mirrored the storm of raw desire that raged within him. the words that fell from your lips only added fuel to the fire, stoking the flames of his hunger until they burned with an almost feverish intensity. it was a plea he couldn’t ignore, a demand that sparked something primal and visceral within him.

choso’s hands went to your exposed breasts, cupping the soft mounds with reverence. he marveled at their weight, at the way they fit perfectly in his palms. his thumbs brushed over your nipples, coaxing them to peak under his touch. the sight of your hardened buds drew a low growl from deep within his chest.

“beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “so perfect.“

leaning in, he captured a nipple between his lips, sucking gently before grazing the sensitive bud with his teeth. the sensation shot straight to your core, making you gasp and arch into him. his other hand slid around to palm your ass, squeezing the firm flesh as he continued to lavish attention on your breast.

a high-pitched moan tore from your throat as his lips closed around your nipple, the sensation of his warm mouth and the gentle tug of his suction sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. your back arched, pushing your breast further into his mouth as you threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him close.

the combination of his hot mouth on your skin and the firm press of his erection against you was driving you wild. his hands found your hips, guiding your movements against him. the pressure, the friction, it was all so deliciously intoxicating that he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

the scrape of his teeth against your sensitive flesh made you buck against him, craving more of that delicious friction. your hips rolled in a slow, deliberate rhythm, grinding your aching core against the hard length of his clothed bulge. the pressure was exquisite, a sweet agony that left you panting and needy.

“good,” you whimpered, your voice a ragged plea. “choso... feel so good..” his hands on your ass squeezed harder, pulling you flush against him as he nipped and sucked at your breast.

choso’s control slipped further with each passing second, his desire for you consuming him entirely. the sounds falling from your lips were music to his ears, urging him on, driving him mad with want. his hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into your flesh as he held you still, rocking against you with a frenzied pace.

his mouth left your breast with a wet pop, trailing kisses up the column of your throat until he reached your ear. “just like that baby, just like that,” he growled, his voice low and rough with barely restrained passion. “mmm, good girl— ugh, good fucking girl,” he grunt, the sound rumble in his chest as he pressed your hips down harder against him.

he punctuated his words with a particularly forceful thrust, grinding his hardness against your aching center. the thin fabric separating you was the only barrier left, and it was quickly becoming too much to bear.

your head lolled back, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat to his hungry mouth. each word he spoke, each praise, each filthy promise, sent another wave of desire crashing over you, drowning you in a sea of pure, unadulterated lust. you could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against you, the heat of it searing your skin even through the layers of clothing.

“chosooo,” you gasped, the single word a desperate plea. your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you clung to him, anchoring yourself amidst the maelstrom of sensations.

your hips bucked wildly, seeking more of that delicious friction, more of the promise of satisfaction. the ache between your thighs was growing unbearable, a pulsing emptiness that demanded to be filled.

his lips found yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your whimpers and moans, his passion meeting your own with a frenzy and intensity that left you breathless. his tongue tangled with yours, the taste of him filling your senses, adding to the dizzying spiral of sensations.

his restraint was hanging by a thread, his own breathing ragged and uneven against your lips. he groaned, deep and guttural, when you whimpered his name, the sound vibrating through his body and setting your nerves ablaze. choso wasn’t just kissing you anymore.

he was claiming you.

you broke away from the kiss to trail your mouth down his neck and across the swell of his throat. your teeth scraped over the sensitive skin, making him gasp, the pain mingling with pleasure. his hands on your hips gripped you tightly, his hold firm but protective, a steady presence that kept you grounded amidst the sea of sensations. your hips start to move faster, pick up the pace on his hardness.

choso’s breath was coming in ragged bursts as your teeth scraped along his neck, pleasure and pain mixing into a heady cocktail that made his blood run hot. choso’s fingers dug deeper into your hips, holding you in place even as you rolled your hips against him more urgently, desperate with want.

“ah, fuuuuck,” he gritted out, his hands almost bruising against your skin. every part of him felt taut, wound so tight that it was like a spring about to snap. the heat between your bodies was overwhelming, and he knew he was close to the edge.

“baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, the endearment spilling from his lips almost involuntarily. he was so lost in the fog of lust that he was barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth, driven by pure instinct and desire. he needed you, craved you with a primal intensity that threatened to consume him from within. “please, please, please,” he repeated, the broken prayer mingling with the sound of your shared breaths.

the pressure between your bodies had built to almost overwhelming levels, the friction and heat stoking a fire that threatened to burn everything in its path. choso’s hands glided over your body, as if trying to memorize every curve and plane, before settling on your hips once again. his grip was fierce, as if he was afraid of letting you go even for a moment.

your body was alight with sensation, every nerve ending singing with pleasure as you moved against him. the heat between your bodies was a living thing, pulsing and throbbing with a life of its own. you could feel the evidence of his desire pressing insistently against you, the hard length of him straining towards you as if seeking entrance.

“yes,” you breathed, the single word a prayer and a promise all at once. your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of his muscles beneath his shirt. you wanted to feel his bare skin against yours, to have nothing separating you but the air itself.

your hips rolled in a slow, deliberate rhythm, grinding against him with increasing urgency. the friction was exquisite, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins with each movement.

choso let out a guttural groan as your hips ground against him, the sensation of your heated flesh sliding against his cock through the clothes nearly undoing him. he could feel the slickness of your arousal coating his clothes length, leaving a stain on his jeans, the proof of how desperately you wanted this, and it only fueled his own hunger.

“fuck, baby, you’re killing me here,” he rasped, his hands sliding down to grasp your ass cheeks, kneading the firm flesh as he pulled you harder against him. the rough fabric of his pants rubbed against your clothed clit with each roll of your hips, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

his lips found yours in a bruising kiss once more, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth as his own. the taste of you was intoxicating, and he drank it in greedily, pouring all his pent-up desire into the embrace.

your mouth opened eagerly to receive his invading tongue, the kiss deep and passionate. you could taste the desperation in him, the raw need that matched your own. your hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

the pressure of his fingers on your ass sends shivers down your spine, and you ground your hips harder against him, seeking more of that delicious friction. the rasp of his voice in your ear, the feeling of his hardness pressing against you, it was all so intense, so overwhelming that you feared you might combust from the sheer force of your desires. “gonna— cho...” you mumble incoherently on his lips, followed by choso hands guiding your hips faster.

choso could feel you trembling against him, could hear the desperation in your voice, the way it wavered as you breathed his name like a prayer. it only served to add fuel to the fire burning within him. he wanted to consume you, to burn away everything that wasn’t you and him in this moment.

“good girl, good girl,” he murmured, his words a mix of praise and encouragement. the rhythm of your movements had become frantic, wild, each grind of your hips against his causing a fresh wave of pleasure to wash over them both.

“come on baby,” he urges, the words tumbling out of him like gravel. your moans are like music to his ears, a heady symphony that only serves to drive him wilder. his grip on your hips is relentless, holding you against him as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded in reality.

his hand slid under your shirt, palms splaying across your lower back as he pulled you impossibly closer, the heat of his skin seeping into yours.

he rocked his hips in time with yours, the friction building to a fever pitch. the sound of your impending climax was music to his ears, and he reveled in the knowledge that he was the cause of it, that he could reduce you to this state of utter abandon with just his touch.

“that’s it, give it to me,” he urged, his lips finding the shell of your ear once more.

your body was wound tighter than a bowstring, every muscle tensed in anticipation of the release that was hurtling towards you like a freight train. the heat between your legs was almost unbearable, a pulsing ache that demanded to be satisfied.

“cho, ’m gonna... ’m gonna...” you panted, your words dissolving into a moan as you felt the first flutterings of your orgasm approaching. your hips jerked erratically, no longer following any kind of rhythm but simply chasing the pleasure that was so tantalizingly close.

your hands scrabbled at his back, nails digging into his shirt as you clung to him, anchoring yourself amidst the maelstrom of sensations. “don’t stop, don’t you dare stop,” you gasped, the command slipping out unbidden as you rode the crest of the wave that was carrying you higher and higher.

choso can feel your body tensing against him, the way your muscles coil and shudder as you’re close to the edge. he can hear it in the desperate pitch of your voice, the way your words are coming out in broken fragments. he knows you’re close, and he’s not far behind.

his breath is warm against your mouth as he whispers, “don't hold back. come for me, angel. i’ve got you.” his words are a promise, a pledge to catch you as you fall. as you give in to the crescendo of your pleasure, his arms are there, holding you tight.

“fuck yes, come on my cock,” he growled, the words punctuated by the rhythmic thrusts of his hips. he could feel your pussy clenching around nothing, the slick heat of your arousal coating his jeans as you rode out the waves of your climax.

the sight of you, lost in ecstasy, was almost too much for him to bear. he wanted to consume you, to drink in every last drop of pleasure until there was nothing left but the two of you, entwined and spent.

your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with such intensity that it stole your breath and rendered you momentarily speechless. your vision blurred, colors dancing at the edges as pleasure coursed through your veins like liquid fire.

“cho...oh god, cho...” you managed to whimper, your voice barely audible above the thunderous beat of your heart. your inner walls spasmed wildly, milking the air for something they couldn’t possibly find.

through the haze of bliss, you could feel choso’s hardness twitching against you, the heat of his arousal palpable even through the layers of clothing. the thought of him finding his own release sent another shockwave of pleasure rippling through you, prolonging your climax.

choso was hanging on by a thread, his grip on your hips tightening almost painfully as he fought to control himself. he was close, so close he could snap any second.

and second later, choso’s control snapped as he felt your pussy convulsing around nothing more, the rhythmic clenching of your muscles driving him to the brink. the sight of you lost in the throes of ecstasy, your face contorted in rapture, was enough to push him over the edge.

“fuckkkk,” with a low, guttural moan, he came hard, his cock pulsing as it emptied itself inside his pants. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” hot spurts of semen coated his baggy jeans, leaving a damp stain, each one a testament to the intensity of his climax.

for a moment, he was frozen, caught in the aftermath of his orgasm. then, slowly, he began to move again, his hips rocking gently as he worked through the last tremors of pleasure. when he finally lifted his head, his eyes were glazed, his chest still heaving with exertion.

as the final aftershocks of your orgasm faded, you slumped bonelessly against choso, utterly spent. your limbs felt heavy, your mind hazy, and you could scarcely believe what had just transpired between you.

a small, dazed smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you gazed up at him, taking in the flush on his cheekbones, the glassy look in his eyes. he looked thoroughly debauched, and the knowledge that you’d been the one to reduce him to this state filled you with a sense of feminine satisfaction.

“look at you,” you breathed a chuckle, the word little more than an exhalation.

choso grinned at your comment, a lazy, satisfied smile that mirrored your own. he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, unhurried kiss that was a stark contrast to the frenzied passion of moments ago.

“you’re one to talk,” he murmured against your mouth, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, “you should see yourself. all flushed and breathless, like the prettiest thing i ever saw.” his voice was a low velvet rumble, the sound of it a soothing balm to your senses. he wrapped an arm around your waist, his touch gentle and reassuring.

a soft chuckle escapes you, a sound woven with warmth and lingering affection as you press your forehead to his, eyes meeting in the quiet intimacy between you. “we’re a mess,” you murmur with a smile, your voice light but full of meaning. your hands find the buttons of your shirt, fingers fumbling slightly as you begin to put yourself back together, still feeling the afterglow of his words and the tender intensity of his gaze.

choso’s grin widens at your comment, his hand resting gently at your waist, thumb tracing slow, reassuring circles. there’s a comfortable silence as you both catch your breath, his presence grounding you, his quiet laughter blending with yours in the stillness of the night. his eyes don’t leave your face, watching you with a softness that only makes your heart beat faster, as if savoring every little detail of this moment shared.

choso watched you as you righted yourself, his gaze warm and affectionate. his fingers reached up, idly plucking at the fabric of your shirt. he watched the way the material fell back into place, hiding your delicate curves once again.

he couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “you’re still clean, angel. i almost wish i’d made even more of a mess. almost,” his voice was teasing, his lips curving into a playful grin. the air is rife with the unspoken words dancing on the edge of the moment, the warmth and comfort wrapping around you like a cocoon.

he doesn’t press the issue though, not wanting to force anything that could shatter the fragile intimacy between you. instead, he just watches you, eyes warm and full of unspoken emotion.

“but next time,“ he adds, finally breaking the silence, “next time, i’ll have to make sure to have a change of pants.” his tone is light, a teasing lilt to it. but there’s a touch of something deeper there, a hint that he’s planning on there being a next time— that this is more than just a passing encounter.

still sitting on his lap, you snort, amused by his comment, and glance down at his jeans, your gaze catching on the unmistakable stain left by your recent intimacy. a smirk plays at the corners of your lips as you meet his eyes again, a mischievous glint in your own. “or maybe next time,” you murmur, voice dropping to a teasing lilt, “we should find somewhere a little more... private. so we can do it without the clothes.”

your words linger in the air, charged with suggestion, and you watch as his playful grin deepens, the warmth in his gaze intensifying with a glimmer of anticipation. he raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your boldness, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your side as he chuckles. “now that,” he says, voice low and dripping with promise, leaning closer to give you a peck on the lips before pulling away just a beat, “sounds like a plan, angel.”

there’s a shared spark between you, a silent agreement that this moment isn’t just a fleeting encounter but the start of something deeper, something you both want to explore. as the night stretches on, you feel the anticipation settling warmly in your chest, knowing there will be a “next time”— and plenty more after that.

a comfortable pause falls between you, the moment stretching as your eyes meet and hold, speaking volumes without words. the connection between you in that moment is more than just physical— it’s a quiet, wordless exchange of emotions and unspoken promises.

choso is first to break the silence, his lips curving into a playful grin. “as much as i’d love to continue this... we probably shouldn’t push our luck anymore tonight. it’s getting late.” he glances around, noting the empty woods, the deserted empty space beyond..

a soft chuckle escapes you, and with a reluctant sigh, you whisper, “yeah, probably best not to risk it.” carefully, you ease yourself off his lap, feeling the lingering warmth of his presence as you stand. straightening your skirt and adjusting your shirt, you do your best to smooth out any signs of the recent intimacy, fingers running through your hair in a quick attempt to tame it.

choso watches you with a hint of amusement, his eyes gleaming with that familiar warmth as he rises beside you, brushing himself off. “not bad,” he murmurs, a low, teasing note in his voice as he observes your subtle efforts to look composed. he reaches over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

choso flashes you a playful smile as you try to right your appearance, his eyes dancing with amusement at your efforts to look respectable despite the rumpled state of your clothing. his warm gaze follows your every movement, drinking in the sight of you, and he takes a moment to compose himself as well, fixing his clothes and running a hand through his hair.

as you both finally look presentable, he turns towards you, his eyes softening as he watches you. “we should probably get going,”he says quietly, his voice low and soft. “it’s late, and i don’t want you to get in trouble.”

as you begin the quiet walk back from the woods to the school grounds, choso’s hand slips into yours, his fingers curling around yours with a gentle but sure grip. the warmth of his touch anchors you, his presence at your side feeling both natural and reassuring, like something that’s always been meant to be.

the path is cloaked in the soft shadows of the night, the faint glow of the moon casting a silvery hue over everything. neither of you feel the need to speak; instead, you let the comforting silence stretch between you, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of your footsteps against the earth.

every so often, choso’s thumb brushes over the back of your hand, a small but tender gesture that sends a gentle warmth through you. it’s a simple moment, yet there’s a profound intimacy in it—one that fills you with a sense of peace and connection. you glance over at him, catching the soft profile of his face in the moonlight, and he meets your gaze with a quiet smile, his eyes reflecting that same warmth and promise you felt earlier.

as you near the edge of the woods, the school grounds coming into view, you realize just how deeply this night has shifted something between you two. his hand in yours feels like an unspoken vow, a shared understanding that this connection isn’t just a fleeting spark—it’s something real, something you both want to hold on to.

as you step onto the training ground, the familiar silhouette of gojo comes into view, standing with his typical air of arrogance. his face wears that infuriatingly smug grin, and even with his glasses on, you know he’s watching. just to prove it, he lowers them slightly, giving you and choso a pointed look—specifically at your intertwined hands.

in a swift, reflexive motion, you pull your hand from choso’s, earning a puzzled glance from him. but as his gaze shifts toward gojo, realization dawns in his eyes, and he lets out a silent sigh, his expression settling into understanding.

internally, you curse. gojo’s big mouth is notorious; you know he’ll never let you live this down. as his former classmate, you’re all too familiar with how relentless and obnoxious he can be. memories of his constant teasing, his maddening habit of prying into everyone’s business, flood your mind, and the thought of dealing with his smug remarks makes you groan.

“he’s absolute menace,” you mutter under your breath, sending a half-hearted glare in gojo’s direction. beside you, choso stifles a quiet chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction.

as you approach, gojo stands there, hands buried in his pockets, his smile only widening as you near. you brace yourself, fully aware that the barrage of taunting remarks is about to begin, but also knowing that having choso by your side makes facing gojo’s antics a little more bearable.

gojo stands there, a grin plastered across his face as he takes in the sight before him. “well, well, well,” he drawls, that maddeningly smug tone in his voice that you know so well. “what do we have here? a little late night stroll through the woods, hmm?” his eyes flick between the two of you, one eyebrow raised in a mix of amusement and curiosity.

you roll your eyes, already fed up with gojo’s smug tone. “can you shut up for once, satoru?” you snap, crossing your arms as you fix him with a glare. “what do you want?”

gojo just chuckles, clearly relishing in your irritation. “oh, don’t get all snippy with me,” he teases, hands still stuffed casually in his pockets. “just happened to be wandering by, and—what do i see? a little midnight rendezvous.” he raises an eyebrow, his smirk only growing as he glances between you and choso— raising his eyebrows in silence the moment his six eyes catches a white stain on choso’s pants.

“satoru…” you warn, voice low.

he laughs, holding up his hands in a mock surrender. “alright, alright, i’ll behave.” then, his tone shifts slightly, a hint of seriousness beneath the teasing. “the higher-ups need you and me for something. probably some tedious nonsense, but they sounded… insistent.”

you glance at choso, sighing as you straighten up. “great, just what i need,” you mutter, shooting gojo one last glare. “lead the way then, satoru, since you’re so eager to interrupt a nice, peaceful evening.”

gojo only grins wider, turning and beckoning for you to follow, his playful stride a stark contrast to the sense of duty that suddenly weighs on you. choso gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before you let go, his silent understanding grounding you before you walk forward to face whatever awaits.

you glance over your shoulder at choso, finding him watching you with a soft smile, one that lingers in the quiet warmth of his expression. there’s a flicker of reassurance in his gaze, like he’s silently telling you it’ll all be okay. you give a small wave, a gentle gesture just for him, before turning back to follow gojo.

as you walk away, you feel the warmth of choso’s presence still lingering at your back, a quiet comfort that makes you smile to yourself. whatever nonsense awaits with the higher-ups, you know that, at the very least, there’s someone who has your back when you return.

as you walk away with gojo, choso watches your retreating figure, his expression soft with worry. he has a sinking feeling that this sudden summons isn’t going to bode well for you, but he knows he can’t interfere. when your hand slips from his grasp, and he can’t help but feel a tinge of loss, as if a piece of him goes with you on this mysterious mission with gojo. he pushes those worries aside for now, reminding himself that he has to trust in your strength and abilities. you can handle yourself and whatever comes your way.

gojo rolls his eyes at the obvious exchange of glances between you and choso, a look of mock disgust etched on his face. “ugh, seriously? you are like a teenage girl who just learned how to date,” he teases, his tone dripping with sarcasm. the comment makes you cringe, and you can feel your face flush with embarrassment.

without missing a beat, gojo suddenly stops in his tracks and swiftly pulls you into a headlock. you groan in annoyance, struggling to escape his grip as he chuckles at your predicament. “did choso do a good job, huh?” he asks, a playful grin on his face. “maybe next time, you should change before going public with your little romantic escapades!”

your cheeks flush deeply at gojo’s mention, heat creeping up your neck as you suddenly become hyper-aware of the earlier moments shared with choso. your thoughts begin to swirl, drawing your attention to the unmistakable stain on choso’s jeans that had caught your eye earlier.

a wave of realization crashes over you as you wonder if that same stain might have transferred to your skirt. the idea makes your heart race, and you subtly shift your position, trying to assess the damage without drawing attention.

gojo, ever observant, notices your fidgeting and raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “what’s the matter? you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” he teases, and you can’t help but curse internally.

you huff indignantly, pushing against his arm while trying to mask the smile threatening to break through. “you’re such a jerk, satoru!” you protest, though a small part of you appreciates his relentless teasing. despite the annoyance, you can’t deny the warmth that bubbles up inside you from the earlier moments with choso.

gojo’s grin widens as he sees the flush spread across your cheeks, enjoying the reaction he’s elicited. “aww, look at you, all flustered. that’s what friends are for, right? to tease you when you do something so incredibly naive.” he teases, releasing your headlock but keeping a friendly arm wrapped around your shoulder as you walk.

you huff in annoyance, nudging his chest with your elbow as you cross your arms defiantly. “you are so fucking annoying, you know that?” you retort, shooting him a playful glare. despite your irritation, you can’t help but crack a small smile, knowing that deep down, his teasing comes from a place of genuine friendship. it’s just typical gojo, always pushing your buttons, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

you look over your shoulder one last time to catch a glimpse of choso, who is standing a few steps behind you with a soft smile on his face. warmth spreads through you at the sight, the memory of your shared moment still lingering in the air. his gaze holds a hint of something deeper, an unspoken connection that makes your heart flutter.

as you and gojo turn the corner, you can’t help but feel a sense of excitement mixed with anticipation. the night air feels charged, and despite gojo’s teasing, you can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of something special with choso.

gojo notices the way you glance back, and he quirks an eyebrow, “oh, is our little curse friend back there making your heart race? that’s cute." his teasing tone is laced with a hint of amusement, his eyes sparkling with mischief

“you know, i can practically see the little hearts in your eyes. someone has a crush.” his words are casual, but you catch a glimmer of something else in his expression— he’s not just teasing; he’s genuinely happy for you.

your cheeks flare with embarrassment as gojo’s words hit home. part of you wants to roll your eyes and dismiss him entirely, but there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. “okay, maybe,” you mutter softly, “but don’t you dare start making a big deal out of it, satoru. this is supposed to be a secret, remember?” you shoot him a warning glare, hoping to stave off the barrage of future teasing.

gojo grins widely, feigning innocence, “me? make a big deal out of something? nahhh, that’s not my style.” he gives a casual shrug, leaning in with a sly whisper. “but between you and me, i might just have to give choso the ‘big brother talk’ to make sure he treats you right. you know, threaten him with a little bit of my infamous gojo charm.” the playful glint in his eyes suggests this is just another layer of his teasing.

you snort, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “you’re so stupid, satoru,” you say, shaking your head in mock disbelief. his antics always manage to get under your skin, but you can’t help but find his protective nature endearing, even if he goes about it in the most ridiculous way possible.

gojo lets out a hearty laugh, his grin widening. “hey, it’s my duty as your friend to make sure you’re treated right. and also my duty to annoy the living daylights out of you. two birds, one stone!” he playfully ruffles your hair, causing you to swat his hand away with a playful glare. as you both continue walking, a comfortable banter flows between you, with gojo throwing in a few more teasing remarks about choso and your newfound romance.

your mind keeps drifting back to the moments you and choso shared in the classroom, especially the memory of his lips and the lingering warmth that had engulfed you. you’re almost consumed by the image when gojo’s voice breaks into your thoughts.

“alright, lovebird, i’ve had enough of this smitten daydreaming.” he shoots you another teasing grin, his playful tone making his words less serious. “time to snap out of it. we have a meeting to attend and you need to focus. save your romantic musings for later.”

[ninikrumbs]

taste me too

Satoru Gojo x reader. fluff. domestic satoru. teeny weeny bit of angst

Ever since you started dating Satoru, you have never felt that tinge of loneliness you use to feel. Not that you minded being alone. It was peaceful.

You used to go watch a movie in the cinema alone. Eat at that new restaurant with a table for one. Have cozy nights in with homemade face masks and belting out to your favorite singer of the week, self care and whatnot. In your opinion, why miss out on the things you want to do just because you’re on your own?

But now, you look to the side and there’s another hand in your popcorn basket, just as giddy for the Barbie movie. You look down at your plate and you see your steak already sliced for your convenience under the romantically lit restaurant. The man in front of you with bright blue eyes, gazing at you so endearingly with a goofy grin on his face as he listened to you babble about your day. And lastly, it wasn’t just you belting out on your hairbrush with a matcha green face mask on his face and a headband pulling back his snowy white hair.

Maybe you didn’t mind being alone, but with Satoru sitting on top of the toilet seat as he gazes up at you almost reverent like - silently waiting for his turn to try out the new lip balm you bought for the cold winter months-always wanting to be included, your eyes burn.

“Toru, stop staring.”

He pouts, “I’m just waiting for you to be done.”

You roll your eyes affectionately before you continue swiping the new balm on your dry lips, it smells like strawberry. Satisfied, you smack your lips together with a grin. Lips now soft and moisturized. “Wow! its really nice and doesn’t feel sticky.”

You turn to Satoru to hand him the lipbalm. To your surprise, he was already standing up, looking at you expectantly. “My turn, my turn!”

You laugh at his excitement, shaking your head fondly. “Here.”

You missed the mischievous glint in his eyes as his hand reaches up to supposedly grab the lipbalm from your hand. He then seemingly misses and cups your face instead. You were slightly taken aback, confused at what he was doing. “Toru what-”

You were cut you short when he leans down and plants his lips on your newly glossed ones. Your mind somewhat convinced yourself that he was ruining your lipstick so you push him back a bit. “Toru-”

But to no avail, as he pulls you by waist, flushed to his chest. He angles his head and kisses you again, deeper this time. It makes you feel warm and hazy. The smacking of lips echoes throughout the bathroom, the balm only making it more distinct. You grab onto the collar of his sweater to ground yourself. The kiss is slow and passionate and as he licks your bottom lip, his tongue tangling with yours, you forgot why you were protesting in the first place.

To your dismay, the both of you needed oxygen. You pull away first, his lips chasing yours before you hid your face in his chest, breathing heavily. “Let me breath a sec,”

He wraps his arms around your body and you feel his heart thumping fast through his chest making you smile. He chuckles, the sound flitting through you. “You’re right, it is nice- amazing even.”

You lift you head to glare at him but it has no real force behind it. “You’re shameless, you know that? Here I thought you wanted to try it!”

And he has the gal to grin, “I did try it!” He licks his lips and hums in delight, yet you doubt there were any traces of the lipbalm left. “Tastes so good too.”

Despite everything, you feel your face burn. “Youre officially kicked out of self care night!”

“What? Nooo! Baby, I was just teasing-”

Yes, you might not have any shred of peace ever again, but you don’t mind. Not one bit.

^^ comments are much appreciated <3

[kirammanswifey]

Will you, pretty please, make a pt 2 of arcane characters breaking up with their so? You know, some fluff to cure our wounds…

arcane characters reconcile with you after the breakup x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: let's be honest, both you and i needed this, i love a bit of drama but a bit of fluff is also necessary sometimes, and it was so nice to write this, i loved all the reconciliations, especially caitlyn's. thank you so much for all the support you give me, it makes me want to keep creating more and more content. as you know the requests are open ;)

break up link:

alternative sad final link:

@sugurulefttesticle thanks for the support babe :3

Viktor

The laboratory was shrouded in an unsettling gloom, the shadows cast by the machines seemed longer, darker. Loneliness had settled in every corner, but at the center of it all, Viktor was there, hunched over his plans, as if the weight of his thoughts was crushing him.

Since you had left, time had lost its meaning. The hours blurred into sleepless nights and frantic days of work. But nothing, no formula, no discovery, could fill the void you had left.

The door opened with a soft creak, but Viktor didn’t turn around. Perhaps he had imagined that sound before, hoping it was you, and he feared that this time it would be another illusion. However, your gentle steps echoed on the metal floor, and then his heart skipped a beat.

"Viktor..." your voice was barely a whisper, laden with emotion. "Please, look at me."

He closed his eyes, as if he needed to gather all his strength to do so. Slowly, he turned towards you, and seeing you there, a mix of surprise and something akin to relief crossed his face. But his eyes were filled with something deeper, a sadness he couldn’t hide.

“I didn’t think you would come back…” he said with a broken voice, barely audible. “After everything I did… I didn’t think I deserved your return.”

You stepped closer, each step carrying the intent to close the distance he had put between you. "Viktor, it was never about deserving. It’s about understanding that we need to face this together."

“I pushed you away because… I’m afraid,” he confessed, his voice trembling with the emotional weight. “Afraid that you’ll see me fail, that everything I am won’t be enough. Afraid that one day you’ll realize you can be happier without me.”

The weight of his words hit you like a wave, but you didn’t waver. “Viktor, we all have fears. But running from what scares us doesn’t make it go away. I’m here because I don’t want a future without you, even if it means facing our fears together.”

Viktor lowered his gaze, a silent tear falling down his cheek. “You are... the only thing that has kept me human. Without you, I become a machine, soulless, heartless. I don’t want to lose myself… I don’t want to lose you.”

Hearing those words, your own tears began to flow. You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching his face, gently caressing the cheek where the tear had fallen. “You won’t lose yourself, Viktor. Not as long as we’re together.”

He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes searching yours with a mix of desperation and hope. “How can you keep loving me after everything I’ve put you through?”

“Because I love you,” you said without hesitation. “Not for what you do, but for who you are, even when you can’t see it yourself.”

Viktor let out a sob he had been holding back, and without thinking twice, he moved towards you, wrapping you in his arms. It was a fragile embrace but full of promises. In that moment, you knew that, although the road would be difficult, together you could find a way to rebuild what had been broken.

Jinx

The night was heavy with rain and despair. Jinx stood at the edge of a building, her feet barely touching the edge as she gazed into the abyss below. The icy wind whipped her body, but she didn’t feel the cold. She was trapped in a whirlwind of dark thoughts, each more desperate than the last.

“End it,” the voices in her head whispered, cruel and persistent. “It’s best for everyone. Get rid of all the pain. You don’t deserve more.”

Her gaze was empty, lost in a place no one else could reach. She closed her eyes, letting the tears mix with the rain, allowing the weight of her emotions to push her further toward the edge.

But then, through the sound of the rain, she heard something. A voice. A familiar voice, filled with anguish. “Jinx, no, please... don’t do it.”

She opened her eyes slowly and saw you, soaked by the rain, your face marked by desperation and tears. You had run to her, not stopping, not thinking of the danger. Now you were there, fighting to reach her, fighting to bring her back.

“Why did you come?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I told you to stay away... not to come back.”

“Because I can’t leave you alone,” you responded, taking a step closer, each movement filled with fear and love. “I love you, Jinx. I can’t lose you like this.”

She shook her head, the tears falling uncontrollably. “You shouldn’t love me. Not after everything I’ve done. I’m a mess. I’ll ruin you, like I ruin everything.”

“Let me decide that,” you said, your voice broken but firm. “You’re not a mess. You’re my baby, and I love you, even when everything seems to fall apart. I won’t leave you alone.”

Jinx stepped back slightly, as if your words hurt her more than anything else. “I always hurt people... I can’t stop. I don’t want to hurt you, but I always end up doing it.”

“I can take it,” you replied, stepping closer, extending your hands toward her, knowing you couldn’t rush her. “Because I’d rather be with you in your worst moments than lose you forever. You don’t have to face this alone. Let me help you.”

She trembled, the weight of her emotions too much to bear. “I’m scared... scared that I can’t stop, scared that this darkness will consume me. I don’t want you to sink with me.”

“We’ll sink together if we have to,” you promised, your hands still extended, waiting for her to reach you. “I don’t care how much it costs. I’m here to stay, Jinx. I won’t abandon you.”

For a long and painful moment, Jinx remained silent, her gaze filled with a sadness so deep it seemed impossible to heal. But finally, her hands moved, barely brushing yours at first, then clinging to them as if they were the only thing keeping her anchored to this world.

“Promise me you won’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice broken by anguish.

“I promise,” you said, squeezing her hands with all the love and desperation you felt. “No matter what happens, no matter how dark it gets, I’ll always be with you.”

With those words, Jinx stepped back from the edge and collapsed into your arms, her body shaken by heart-wrenching sobs. The storm still raged around them, but at that moment, they were bound by something stronger than fear: the promise not to abandon each other.

Vi

The weeks without Vi have been torment. Each day feels like a part of you fades a little more, as if her absence is slowly tearing your soul apart. Today, you’re in the gardens of your home, holding a photo in your hands: the first one you took with Vi, both smiling, happy, unaware of the pain that would come after. Tears blur your vision as your heart breaks over and over with the memories.

Then, you hear footsteps, and there she is, standing, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. You quickly try to dry your tears, to hide the photo, as if that could erase the pain consuming you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice trembling, not sure if you can bear what’s to come.

Vi takes a step forward, her expression more vulnerable than ever. “I miss you,” she says, her voice broken. “I’m sorry for everything I said, everything I did. I can’t live without you.”

You close your eyes, feeling every word of hers like a direct blow to your heart. “None of that matters now, Vi,” you respond, trying to maintain your firmness. “My family has decided to marry me to a member of the Piltover council.”

Vi looks at you, her face pale. “Marry?” she whispers, as if the word were a curse. “You can’t do it. I know you don’t love anyone else. You can’t love anyone but me.”

Tears threaten to return, but you hold them back. “It’s not my choice, Vi. They decide for me. You’re the one who left me, who pushed me into this destiny.”

“I was an idiot,” Vi admits, taking another step toward you. “I know. But I can’t let this happen. I’ll fight for you, even if I have to face the whole world. I won’t lose you, not like this.”

“And what will that change?” you shout, unable to contain the pain any longer. “You can’t fight everyone! You can’t change who I am, what they expect of me.”

Vi stops, her gaze fixed on yours, with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “The only time you’ll stand at an altar will be with me by your side,” she says with unbreakable firmness. “I won’t let you marry anyone else. Not as an act of pride, but because I love you, and I don’t want to live without you.”

“Vi, please,” you whisper, the tears now falling freely. “This is bigger than us. You can’t fix it with pretty words.”

“Then I’ll fix it with actions,” she responds, with a resolve you hadn’t seen before. “I’ll go wherever necessary, face your parents, that damn council, anyone who tries to come between us. I won’t let them take you from me.”

Her voice trembles, but her determination does not. “I don’t want you to be my savior,” you whisper, your voice almost inaudible. “I want you to be my partner, my equal. But I can’t do this alone, Vi. I can’t keep fighting if you’re not by my side.”

Vi comes closer, until the distance between you both disappears. “You’ll never be alone again,” she promises, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you, and I swear I’ll fight for us, until my last breath. I won’t let them separate us, not them, not anyone.”

The weight of her words envelops you, and finally, you let yourself fall into her arms, allowing all the pain, fear, and contained love to overflow. Vi holds you tightly, whispering promises of a future together, promises that, this time, you’re willing to believe.

Caitlyn

The trial is a public spectacle, a circus meant to satisfy Piltover’s thirst for justice. You stand in the center of the room, hands tied behind your back, as the council leaders gaze at you coldly. The accusations fly over your head like sharp daggers: treason, conspiracy, disloyalty. All because you tried to talk to Ekko, to seek a peace you believed possible between the two cities.

Caitlyn stands at the back of the room, her face impassive, her gaze fixed on you. She hasn’t said a word since the trial began, and the emptiness in her expression breaks you more than any word of condemnation. You know she’s fighting internally, but her silence feels like a sentence in itself.

Finally, the judge announces the decision: "For the charges of treason, this court decrees that you will be stripped of your position as Enforcer and permanently exiled from Piltover."

The verdict falls like a hammer on your heart. You feel your world crumble in an instant. You look at Caitlyn, searching in her eyes for some sign of support, of compassion, but she remains motionless.

As the judge is about to strike the gavel to conclude the session, Caitlyn steps forward, her voice resonating with dangerous calm. "One moment."

The entire room turns toward her. Caitlyn advances with the elegance and authority she has always possessed, but there’s something new in her eyes, a spark of defiance.

"I cannot allow this sentence to be carried out," she says firmly. "This isn’t justice; it’s an act of fear and repression. The person you’re accusing only sought peace, a diplomatic solution to prevent more bloodshed."

The judge frowns, but Caitlyn continues before he can interrupt. "I am the leader of the Enforcers, and my loyalty is to true justice, not a system that punishes hope. If you expel my partner from this city, if you strip someone whose only crime was trying to save us all, then you’ll be provoking a rift you cannot control."

Caitlyn takes another step forward, and her voice lowers, but each word is a sharp edge. "I could easily take control, dismantle this corrupt system from within, and there would be nothing you could do to stop me. But that’s not the justice I seek. What I want is fairness, compassion, and truth."

The silence in the room is deafening. The council members exchange glances, understanding they are not dealing with someone who can be manipulated or intimidated.

After what feels like an eternity, the judge finally relents. "We will review the sentence. The accused will be sanctioned and will not be allowed to leave Piltover, but she will not be exiled or stripped of her position."

Caitlyn nods slightly, then approaches you, freeing you from your bonds with her own hands. "Let’s go," she murmurs, her voice soft yet filled with authority.

You leave the courtroom with her, and once you’re away from the others’ eyes, Caitlyn stops. For the first time, you see her tremble. "I’m sorry," she whispers, her eyes finally filling with tears. "I shouldn’t have doubted you. I shouldn’t have left you alone."

The vulnerability in her voice disarms you. Despite everything, despite the pain, you know Caitlyn did what she could to save you. "Cait," you say softly, taking her face in your hands. "What you just did... was the greatest act of love you could give me. You chose between authority and me, and you chose me."

She closes her eyes, tears falling freely. "It will always be you," she says, her voice trembling. "No matter the odds or the problems that come, I will always choose you. You are my justice, my reason, my everything."

The words sink into your heart, bringing overwhelming relief. You kiss her softly, sealing with that gesture the love that binds you. "You are my everything too, Cait," you whisper. "You always have been."

She holds you tightly, as if she’ll never let you go. "Together," she says in a whisper, her voice laden with emotion. "No matter what happens, we’ll face everything together. Because you are my choice, now and always."

Jayce

The air was thick with tension as the words that had been kept bottled up for so long finally exploded. Everything about him was focused on his ambition, on his vision for Piltover, and everything in you was hurt, torn apart by his indifference.

The last time you saw each other, it was a goodbye filled with cruel and cold words, an ending with no way back. You had decided that you could no longer be the shadow of his dreams, an accessory to the side of his grand plans. You didn’t want any more empty promises. You didn’t want to be the sacrifice.

But now, all that seemed about to change.

One day, you find yourself in your laboratory, lost in your thoughts, trying to push away the lingering pain. The door opens with a familiar creak, and your heart skips a beat without warning. It's not someone you expected to see. It’s him. Jayce.

Silence rises between the two of you. The air is heavy, as if time itself had stopped. He’s there, looking at you, but his gaze no longer holds the confidence it once had. In his eyes, there’s something else now: uncertainty, a faint glimmer of regret.

"I thought I understood," he says, his voice deep but hesitant. "I thought that what I was doing, the ambition, the future of Piltover... I thought it all had to be that way. That I had to leave everything behind, even you, if I wanted to get to where I am now."

You remain silent, the pain still fresh in your veins, but something inside you urges you to listen. You know that everything you’ve been through together can’t be left behind without an answer. You can’t help it, but something inside you breaks again at the sound of his voice, the same one that used to calm your fears, now trembling.

"But I haven’t forgotten you," he continues. "I haven’t stopped thinking about you, about us, about what we were. About what we could have been... if only I weren’t so blind."

You look at him, his presence so intense that it almost makes you doubt everything you thought you knew. "Then why are you here?" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest. "After everything you said... after everything that happened, why?"

Jayce takes a step towards you, hesitant but determined. "Because in the end, I realized that nothing is worth it if you’re not by my side. No matter how great Piltover becomes, no matter how grand my legacy is, if I don’t share that greatness with the person who truly matters."

His voice breaks at the end, as if he’s finally acknowledging something he had avoided all along.

A lump forms in your throat, and your hands tremble slightly. "Jayce..." you murmur, not knowing whether you want to believe him or if you’re afraid it’s too late for all this.

"I’m sorry," he says, his tone filled with remorse. "I’m sorry for not listening to you. For not realizing what we had until I almost lost it. I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try. If you’ll let me... I want to try to make it right. I want you to be part of my life, not just a secondary option, not just something I pushed aside."

He gently takes your hands, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll break in his fingers. "I want to be better for you. And if that means changing, if it means prioritizing you, I’ll do it. Because I need you. Not just as part of my life, but as the center of it."

Jayce’s words envelop you like a warm embrace, but you’re still afraid. Afraid that this promise might be just another lie. However, a part of you wants to believe that all of this can be real.

"Do you really understand?" you ask, looking into his eyes with an intensity that reflects your doubts and hopes. "Because I don’t want to be a shadow anymore. I don’t want to be the sacrifice on your path to something that doesn’t include what we shared."

He nods, the determination in his gaze revealing that he’s not here just to talk but to prove it. "I promise you, I understand now. What we have is the only thing that truly matters."

Your breathing calms, though the uncertainty still lingers. "So what are you going to do? Are you going to stop fighting just for Piltover and start fighting for us?"

Jayce smiles, a vulnerable but sincere smile. "I’m going to fight for what really matters, for what I didn’t want to lose. For you."

A weight lifts from your shoulders, and for a moment, you feel that the pain of everything lost can be healed. Because, in the end, it’s not about power or control. It’s about what the heart chooses, about what people decide to cherish.

You step closer to him, gently touching his face, and at last, after so long, you allow yourself to be vulnerable. "I don’t want to lose you again," you whisper.

"And you won’t," he responds, drawing you even closer, as if there had never been space between you. "Never again."

Ekko

The cold wind of Zaun blew strongly as you entered the house, the echo of your footsteps resonating like a forewarning. You didn’t know what you were going to find, but something told you that Ekko was no longer the same. The house, once filled with laughter and camaraderie, now seemed empty, desolate.

Ekko was there, sitting in front of a table, his hands trembling slightly. When he saw you, his eyes widened, but there was no surprise, just a flicker of something else. Regret.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice breaking. In the distance, the image of the battle came to mind. That night when you almost lost him forever. It had been a brutal blow. The fear of never seeing him again consumed you.

"I saw everything, you know?" Ekko began to speak, his voice softer than usual, as if he were searching for the right words. "When I fell… when everything seemed to be ending… the only thing I saw… was you." A long sigh escaped his chest, as if those words had cost him as much as a contained scream. "I saw your face, your pain… and I realized, too late, that the only battle that truly mattered, the one I didn’t want to lose… was ours."

Silence filled the room, your eyes welling up with tears as you processed what he had just said. "Ekko, why...? Why couldn’t we make it work before?"

He looked at you deeply, as if each word was a struggle, as if he were slowly building up what he felt. "I told you that you weren’t enough... but it was me who wasn’t enough. I, who thought I could save everything, who thought I could be everything for everyone, but when I looked at my life… I saw nothing. I saw what I had lost the most. And it was me who pushed away the only thing that truly mattered."

He stood up with effort, his eyes filled with regret and pain, the way he looked at you was so intense it hurt. "I… I fought for Zaun, but the only real fight I should be fighting, the only one that matters, is for you." His words flowed out of his mouth, but it seemed he was seeking his own forgiveness. "I failed you. I failed you because I didn’t understand what it meant to have you by my side. You were always enough, and you always will be."

He approached slowly, his face now close to yours, and though his gaze was tired, there was something new in it: vulnerability. "Would you let me fight for you, even now, even though everything is broken?"

Your voice trembled as you looked into Ekko's eyes. "Why are you asking me now? Why when everything is already broken?"

"Because I saw you leave, I saw how my life dimmed without you. And I realized that despite everything, the only thing that keeps me standing is knowing that I can still fight for what I love the most. And that's you. You are my reason to keep going. My only reason." His eyes glistened, and for a moment, it seemed that time had stopped between the two of you.

The air was heavy with palpable pain, and your tears fell uncontrollably. No matter how much damage had been done, the love between you had never left, it had just been buried under layers of pride and distance.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice broken. "What if I'm no longer what you need?"

"You’ll always be. You always were. And you always will be, baby" he said, his voice cracking as he took your hands with a desperate strength. "I’m so sorry."

Finally, words were no longer enough, and in an impulse, you both leaned in, letting yourselves be carried by the need to heal what was broken. Ekko's tears mixed with yours, the pain transformed into something that needed to be healed, and within the shadows of the house, you both finally understood that although the path to reconciliation would be difficult, there was still a chance to fight for the love that hadn’t completely disappeared.

Silco

The warehouse's dim light wrapped around you like an ominous forewarning, the thick, heavy air clinging to your skin. You had fallen into the trap, and although you knew it, you couldn't stop fighting, trying to free yourself. You had been at the brink of death more times than you cared to count, but this time it was different. The face of the man who held you prisoner was not one you knew well, but you did know that he was under the orders of someone much more dangerous. Silco had never fully explained the world he moved in, but something about the surroundings told you there would be no escape. This wasn't just any kidnapping. This time you wouldn't be saved so easily.

The ropes binding your wrists tightened as your mind spun in search of a way out. Your breathing was uneven, and every attempt to calm yourself only multiplied the fear. The man in front of you, with harsh features and cold eyes, watched your every move with a cruel smile. The sense of threat was palpable, yet you tried to defy him, even though you knew it was a vain attempt.

"Silco?" You called, but your voice trembled, betrayed by panic.

"Do you think he'll come to save you?"

The man let out a mocking laugh, stepping closer, the blade of a knife catching the warehouse's dim light.

"Silco has too many problems to deal with you," he said with a calm that only made the situation more terrifying. "You should already know, in this world, there's no room for weakness. Especially not for a little whore like you; you whores are replaceable. And apparently, he's already replaced you, everyone knows it. But my boss thought it would be a courteous gesture to send him your head as a small gift."

Your thoughts blurred with the sound of the door bursting open, and a chill ran down your spine at the familiar echo of firm, controlled footsteps. It was him. There was no doubt.

The man didn't seem worried, his arrogance had blinded him. "What's the great Silco doing here? Jealous that I have your former little bitch now? Relax, I'll give her back to you once I'm done with her. You can keep a leg or both, but her organs are mine, I'm sure they'll fetch a good price in the market."

There was no response. Silco didn't say a word, but the tension in the air was so thick that the entire room seemed to hold its breath. His eyes, cold as ice, scanned the man before you and then fixed on you, without showing a hint of emotion. Without hesitation, his hand slid to the back of his belt. In the blink of an eye, the sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, and the man fell to the ground, his life fading so quickly he didn't even have time to comprehend it.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, but for you, the world seemed to stop the moment Silco's figure approached. The intensity in his gaze, that palpable energy that used to envelop you in his presence, was now just a reminder of everything you had lost. He freed you from the ropes without a word. The contact of his hand as he touched you sent a shiver down your spine, and though his gesture was practical, you couldn't help but wonder if, in some corner of his being, there was still something of the person he had been before. Something that had loved you.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, his tone cold and distant as always. But this time, it wasn't the tone of the protector, the leader who had cared for you. It was the voice of someone who had forgotten what it meant to feel.

You tried to pull away from his touch, the same touch you had once desired with all your being. You couldn't bear it any longer. You couldn't bear him, his indifference.

"Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep saving me? If you hate me so much, why save me?" Your voice was a broken whisper, but the pain in it was clear.

Silco remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that burned. You could see the internal struggle in his gaze, that shadow of doubt that had arisen between him and you. Finally, he took a step towards you, his face implacable, but his hands trembling as he approached.

"You didn't understand anything," he murmured, his tone low, more vulnerable than you had ever heard. "What I told you... it was all a lie. I didn't want to lose you, that's why I pushed you away. I didn't want you close to this world, to this hell... but I couldn't. I couldn't let you go. I thought if I pushed you away, you wouldn't suffer, but..." His voice broke briefly, and silence filled the space between you both.

You looked at his face, puzzled by the contradiction in him. Everything he had said before, everything he had done, seemed to crumble now before your eyes.

"You don't understand, do you?" You whispered, still fighting the lump in your throat. "What did you think? That I didn't know what I was getting into when I decided to stay with you? That I didn't know death would always be at my back? That I would always have to live on the edge because you insisted on being the damn king of a world like this?"

Silco didn't respond immediately, his face softened slightly, and a shadow of regret crossed his gaze.

"I know," he said in a hoarse voice, "I know everything I said was cruel. But what I didn't tell you... is that, even if the whole world collapses, the only thing that matters to me... the only thing I've truly loved... is you."

The impact of his words hit you, and for a second, time stopped. The pain, the rage, the uncertainty, all of it seemed to dissolve into the air. But above all, there was something else, something you never expected to hear from him.

"I chose you," you whispered as you slowly approached him. "Despite everything, I chose you. I chose you, and even knowing what it would mean, I would do it again. Because that's what love really is. Choosing the person despite everything, even knowing death is just around the corner."

A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes, something you rarely saw in him, and for a moment, all the hatred, all the anger that had existed between you disappeared, leaving you alone, vulnerable, but finally honest.

"Then, come back, please," he pleaded, his voice trembling, his hand seeking yours. "I can't bear a world without you. I can't lose you. I'll keep protecting you, no matter how many times I have to dirty my hands with blood."

You approached, touching his forehead with the softness of a caress that, in that moment, was the only thing that could heal the wounds you both carried.

"I'm here, my love," you whispered to him, as he closed his eyes, letting the pain and hope dissolve between his arms. "I'll never leave you again. No matter what happens. It will always be you and me against the world. Always and forever."

And so, in that moment, the broken words and wounds of the past were left behind. In their place, there was only the certainty that, in the end, the love they shared couldn't be destroyed, even if the whole world was in ruins.

Mel

It's close to three in the morning when you hear a knock on the door. You're half asleep, your head heavy, but something in the air alerts you. With every step you take towards the entrance, you feel your heart racing, as if you know something is about to change, something you can't stop. You open the door, and there she is.

Mel is not the same as before. She isn't wearing the luxuries that always accompany her, the perfectly applied makeup, or the golden jewelry that always shone on her skin. She's a mess, her gaze lost, her face haggard. The strong woman who always seemed in control is now broken, empty. And when she looks at you, her eyes are not the same. They are filled with pain, with a suffering she hasn't been able to hide.

Before you can say a word, Mel throws herself at you. She takes you by surprise, but you quickly wrap your arms around her. Her body is trembling, as if her entire being is collapsing. You feel her tears soaking your shirt, and in the silence of the early morning, she begins to speak through sobs.

"I faced her..." her voice is broken, and every word costs her more than it seems. "My mother... she told me... she told me I would never be enough. That I'm not. You were right." She pauses for a moment, unable to continue, as if the weight of those words is too heavy for her soul to carry.

You hold her tighter, even though the words coming out of her mouth are like daggers in your chest. "Mel, please... don't say that," you murmur, though the anguish in your own voice is as present as hers. "You're not what she says. You're not."

"I'm her puppet," she responds bitterly. "She manipulated me... manipulated me to make all this happen. To put Piltover in her hands. I started a war, and now... I can't stop it. I'm to blame for all of this." Her crying intensifies, and you can feel her pain as if she's tearing herself apart inside. "She called me weak... called me a disgrace to the Medarda clan..."

Those words leave you cold. You feel the air catch in your throat. But you can't let her fall. You can't let her sink further into that darkness. You pull her away slightly, holding her face in your hands, forcing her to look into your eyes.

"No, Mel," you say firmly, even though your heart is shattered. "You're not weak. You're not a disgrace. You are... you're Mel Medarda, an incredible woman, not Ambessa's daughter. And that's what you'll always be to me."

She shakes her head, as if your words are merely an illusion. "You don't see it... you don't understand," she says, her voice broken by the sobs. "I am everything she wants me to be. Everything she told me to be. And now I don't know who I am... I don't know if I'm what you need."

You move closer to her, almost brushing her lips, and you can feel her desperation. "What you need isn't to be what your mother wants, Mel. What you need... what you need is to be yourself. You are enough. You are more than enough. I want you, with everything you are. It doesn't matter what she thinks. I love you just the way you are."

Mel closes her eyes tightly, as if she wants to block out the pain of your words, but even she knows that something in you is true. You feel that, though she doesn't want to admit it, your love for her is a refuge, a sanctuary from the torment she's lived her entire life.

"I promise I won't leave you alone in this," you continue, holding her face in your hands. "We'll figure it out together, Mel. We will. You're not going to lose me. I'm not going to lose you."

Mel finally looks up and meets your gaze, her eyes filled with tears, but there's something different in her expression. It's not the emptiness she gave you before, it's a spark, something of hope that begins to ignite deep within her.

"I don't want to keep fighting alone," she says softly, almost as if it's a lost whisper. "I'm so afraid... so afraid of all this. Of what I've caused. But... I don't want to lose what we have. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," you reply with a sigh, holding her tightly, as if you could embrace all her fears. "I won't leave you alone. I promise. We'll figure it out. Together."

Time seems to stop at that moment. The world outside keeps turning, but you and Mel, in this instant, have only each other. And although the future is uncertain, you know that as long as you have each other, nothing can tear you apart.

Sevika

The sound of heavy footsteps is the first thing you hear. It’s late, the city is shrouded in darkness, but something in the air tells you this time it’s not a dream, not a nightmare. The knocking on the door startles you, and when you open it, you see her.

Sevika is standing in front of you, slightly swaying, her breathing uneven. The scent of alcohol is strong, mixed with the sensation of sweat and exhaustion emanating from her body. Her eyes, usually so firm, are now dull, almost lost, as if she’s searching for something she doesn’t know how to find.

“Sevika… what are you doing here?” you ask, your heart pounding in your chest, confused and worried to see her like this.

She doesn’t respond immediately, just stands there, watching you, as if she wants to say something, but the words seem stuck in her throat. After a long silence, she finally speaks, her voice deep and broken.

“I went to the brothels…” she murmurs, her head hanging low, as if it’s a confession, something weighing heavier than anything else. “To forget you. To stop thinking about you. I was with other people… so many other people. But everything I did reminded me of you. Of you and how… how I lost you.”

Your stomach churns at her words. The betrayal cuts you like a sharp knife. You step back from her, feeling the pain grow in your chest.

“No… why? Why did you do that?” The anger and hurt are clear in your voice, but there’s also a vulnerability you can’t hide. “Is that why you left me? To be with other people?”

Sevika lifts her head, her eyes reflecting a remorse so deep you can almost feel it as your own. “I didn’t do it to hurt you,” she says, her words faltering. “I did it because I thought it was what I should do… because I hurt you, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t want you to need me, I didn’t want to drag you with me into this damn abyss.”

Your heart beats so fast you feel it might burst out of your chest. Every word from Sevika hurts more, but there’s something in her gaze, in the way she’s opening up to you now, that makes you hesitate.

“But…” she continues, taking another step closer. “None of it worked. None of it. I remember you in every one of those faces. I remember you when I’m alone when I try to forget you. And the worst part, the most painful part, is that I can’t… I can’t stop wanting you.”

The words hang in the heavy air between you. The silence becomes unbearable. Sevika takes another step, closer to you until you can feel her ragged breath. She’s so close you can see every line on her face, the fragility you never thought she had.

“I… I never wanted you to see me this way,” she says, her voice breaking, as if every word costs her a world. “But please… listen to me carefully. There’s nothing I want more in this damn world than to be with you. I don’t want to keep living without you. I can’t. I love you. I can’t keep running from it. I can’t live with the weight of not telling you this sooner.”

The air freezes between you, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The hate, the confusion, the betrayal… it all mixes in your chest, but deep down, you know what she just said is real.

“What?” you manage to whisper, your eyes filling with unshed tears. “Are you serious?”

Sevika closes her eyes, as if fighting against herself. “I love you,” she repeats, her voice softer now, as if she’s giving you everything she had, everything she had kept in her heart. “I love you, and I don’t want to keep living this lie. You… you’re the only thing that matters to me. You’re my only reason for being here. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to keep suffering because of me. Please…”

Those “please” are like a plea, a silent scream that pierces through all the walls you had built around your heart. Sevika, the strong and fierce woman who always showed you her darkest side, is now on her knees before you, vulnerable, open, filled with a desperation you hadn’t seen before.

And in that instant, you feel everything crumble. The pain, the resentment, the confusion… it all disappears. Only love remains, raw and real, so strong it almost chokes you. Without thinking, you throw yourself into her arms, your arms wrapping around her with a desperate intensity, as if you fear that if you let her go, she’ll disappear forever.

“I love you too,” you whisper against her neck, the tears falling uncontrollably. “I love you so much it hurts.”

Sevika holds you with the same strength, her body trembling against yours. “Then let’s make it not hurt,” she murmurs, her words filled with a mix of relief and pain. “Let’s not let it separate us again, please.”

“That won’t happen again,” you reply, your lips seeking hers, not caring about anything else. “I won’t let it happen. What we have is forever.”

When your lips meet, the kiss is fierce, filled with the passion of everything that has built up, of everything that was left unsaid. It’s a kiss filled with desperation, love, and unspoken promises. It’s the beginning of a new chapter, one where the darkness won’t separate you, where love will keep you together, always.

[m4rv3l-girl]

I can help

Bucky x Y/N

Y/N feels unwanted and Bucky can help…

Warnings: Touch starved reader and touch starved Bucky. Smut. Fingering. Oral f!receiving.

Bucky Barnes stood in the doorway of the cozy living room, the soft light from the pendant lamp casting a warm glow over the figure curled up on the couch. His eyes searched the room, taking in the familiar sight of his partner, Y/N, surrounded by a mountain of pillows and blankets. Her eyes were glued to the TV, but the flickering images couldn't mask the sadness etched on her face.

"What's wrong, doll?" Bucky asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

Y/N looked up, and for a brief moment, she seemed surprised by his presence. "Oh, it's nothing," she replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Bucky stepped closer, his boots making no sound on the plush carpet. "You know you can tell me anything, kitten," he said, sitting down beside her and placing a hand on her knee. His touch was comforting, a silent question that sought permission to delve deeper.

Y/N sighed and leaned into his side, her head resting against his shoulder. "It's just… I haven't… you know," she mumbled, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he studied her, his grip on her knee tightening slightly. "You haven't what, darling?"

Her eyes remained on the TV, avoiding his gaze. "Haven't had sex in a while," she finally said, the words barely a whisper. "It's just been a dry spell, I guess."

Understanding dawned on Bucky's face as he took in her words. Having experienced long periods of isolation and loneliness himself, he knew the feeling of being touch-starved all too well. He pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "How long, love?" he asked softly.

"Too long," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "It feels like everyone else is moving on with their lives, and I'm just stuck here, in this rut."

He brushed a lock of hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. "You're not alone in this," he assured her. "We all go through it sometimes."

The silence between them grew as he contemplated his own past, the lost time, and the warmth of her body beside his. He knew what it was like to crave human connection, to be desperate for the simplest of touches. His hand trailed down to her hip, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Let me help," he offered, his voice a low murmur in her ear.

Y/N tensed for a moment before relaxing into his embrace. She turned to look at him, her eyes searching his for any hint of judgment or pity. All she found was concern and care. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice small.

Bucky took a deep breath, his thumb tracing slow circles on her skin. "I know what it's like to feel unwanted, to feel like you're not enough," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "But you are. More than enough. And if you need someone to remind you of that, I'm here."

Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded. "I just… I don't know if I'm ready," she admitted, her voice trembling.

He leaned back, giving her the space she needed. "We can take it slow," he promised, his voice soothing. "Just tell me what you need, and we'll go from there."

Y/N took a moment to think, the weight of his words pressing against her chest. She knew Bucky was a man of action, but she also knew he was patient and kind. If he was willing to help her through this, she had to be willing to let him in. She looked into his eyes, the warmth and understanding reflected there, and took his hand. "Okay," she whispered. "Let's do this."

The air in the room grew thick with anticipation as Bucky leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. It was gentle, a promise of more to come. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. Y/N felt a spark of life return to her, a warmth that had been missing for so long. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair.

He pulled away, his eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort. When he saw none, he began to pepper her neck with tender kisses, his hands roaming over her body with a newfound confidence. Y/N shivered, her breath hitching in her throat as she felt herself responding to his touch.

Bucky noticed the change in her and paused, his eyes locking onto hers. "Is this okay?" he murmured, his voice gruff with desire.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice a mere whisper. "More than okay."

Encouraged, he continued his exploration, each touch and kiss more intimate than the last. He was determined to show her that she was desired, that she was cherished. As they grew closer, the tension in the room began to dissolve, replaced by a warmth that radiated from their joined bodies.

The TV flickered in the background, forgotten as they lost themselves in the moment. Bucky's hand found the hem of her shirt, his fingers teasing the skin beneath. Y/N's heart raced as she felt his touch become more insistent, more urgent. She knew that this was just the beginning, and she was ready to let him in, to let him show her the passion she had been missing.

They stood together, their kisses growing more heated as clothes fell away. The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breaths, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle that had been apart for far too long. Bucky picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom as if she weighed nothing at all.

His eyes never left hers, the connection between them unbroken.

Gently laying her down on the bed, he took a moment to appreciate the beauty before him. Her skin was flushed with desire, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and vulnerability. He knew that this was a gift, one he would not take lightly.

With a soft smile, he joined her on the bed, his body covering hers as their kisses grew deeper. His hands moved over her, exploring every inch of her, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of her skin. Y/N arched into his touch, her body responding to his every caress.

Bucky's mouth trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone as he kissed and licked his way to her chest. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing her hardened nipples as she gasped. He took his time, savoring the sounds she made, the way her body moved beneath him.

He continued his descent, kissing her stomach and tracing the line of her hip before finally reaching the apex of her thighs. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with need, and asked, "Can I?"

Y/N's response was a nod, her eyes never leaving his. She watched as he kissed her inner thighs, his breath warm against her sensitive skin. He was slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment. When his tongue finally touched her core, she gasped, her body jolting with pleasure.

Bucky took his time, tasting her, learning her, as if it was the first time. His tongue was gentle yet firm, his movements sure and steady. He listened to her whimpers, her sighs, taking cues from her body as it began to arch towards his. He was thorough, his mouth exploring every fold and crevice, leaving no part of her untouched.

He lapped at her clit with the flat of his tongue, the sensation making her hips jerk upward.

He chuckled darkly against her, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through her body.

His teeth grazed the sensitive bundle of nerves before he sucked on it, the pressure perfect. Y/N's hands fisted in the sheets, her body tightening as the pleasure grew.

Bucky's tongue delved into her, tasting her wetness, swirling around her entrance before retreating again to focus on her clit. His thumbs spread her wide, exposing her fully to his mouth. He devoured her with a hunger that was almost desperate, his tongue flicking and stroking with a skill that had her gasping for air.

He suckled her clit, the pressure just right, as his fingers slid into her wet warmth. He curled them in a come-hither motion, stroking her G-spot with precision that had her back arching off the bed. Y/N's breaths turned to moans, her hips rocking against his mouth as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

"You taste like fucking heaven, doll," he murmured against her, his voice thick with arousal. The crudeness of his words only served to excite her further, the sweetness of his sentiment shining through the vulgarity.

Y/N's cheeks burned, but she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her as he spoke. "Bucky," she moaned, her voice breathless.

He paused, his eyes meeting hers with a smirk. "What's the matter, kitten?" he teased, his voice a low growl. "You like it when I talk dirty?"

Y/N nodded, unable to form coherent words as his fingers continued their magic. "Yes," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whimper.

"Good to know, darling," Bucky said, his grin turning wolfish as he went back to his task. "You're so wet, so fucking sweet," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin. His thumb began to rub circles around her clit as his fingers pumped in and out of her, the filthy words spilling from his lips as if they were a declaration of love.

"Your pussy's so tight around my fingers, Kitten" he groaned, his own arousal palpable. "So greedy. She’s hungry for it." He watched as she squirmed beneath him, her body responding to every lewd word and sensation. "You like that, don't you?"

Y/N nodded, her breath coming in gasps. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Bucky's grin grew wider as he felt her tighten around his fingers, her body begging for release. He knew exactly what she needed, and he was more than happy to give it to her. He kissed her inner thigh, his breath hot against her skin. "I've got you, darling," he murmured, his voice filled with sweet reassurance.

He increased the pace of his thumb, the circles growing tighter as he felt her approaching climax. His other hand slid up to cup her breast, his thumb flicking her nipple in time with the movements of his mouth. Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

Her legs began to shake, her toes curling as she reached the peak. Bucky felt her body tighten around his fingers, the muscles of her thighs clenching as she came undone. A guttural sound escaped her throat, a mix of pleasure and relief. Her orgasm washed over her like a wave, crashing against the shore of their intimacy.

As the last tremors of her climax subsided, Bucky kissed his way up her thigh, his eyes never leaving hers. She watched, wide-eyed, as he moved over her, his face flushed and his eyes dark with lust. He took her mouth in a deep, claiming kiss, their bodies slick with sweat.

To her surprise, she felt the warm, wet proof of his own release on her thigh. She looked down to find that just the sight of her pleasure had been enough to make him cum. Her eyes went wide with shock and a newfound sense of power.

Y/N looked up at Bucky, who was watching her with a smug satisfaction, his eyes hooded and his breaths uneven. He leaned down to kiss her, a smudge of her own arousal on his lips.

"You're incredible," he murmured against her mouth, his voice thick with lust…

——————————————————————————————————

Requests Open!

[feralgoblinqueen]

I’m not the first to write something like this but here’s my spin on shifter!141.

*****

They had spent too long in their bestial forms. Time feels different when the wolf takes over, easier to lose track of and even harder to remember their human lives. By the time one of them remembers the house in the woods and its many acres that still needs a final payment under a fake name it’s too late.

They look on from the tree line, taking note of the changes made by the new owner. A budding flower garden in front of the house, well kept and just starting to show its spring colors. Around back a large vegetable patch was still green, nothing yet ready to harvest. The exterior had a fresh coat of paint and small repairs had been made. A single faded blue truck rumbled up the long and winding driveway. That’s when they first laid eyes upon you.

—————

“Abandoned, Selling As Is” was what the advertisement had read. No one else had wanted the plot of land hours away from civilization. For you, though, it was perfect. Somewhere to start over, to be alone and relearn who you are.

The rooms still held the previous owner’s belongings. Everything had been left untouched as if they just vanished one day. All men, you assumed, just from the sparse decor and the clothes left behind. Military, maybe, from how the beds were made with their sheets tucked into hospital corners. Paranoid loners, possibly even doomsday preppers, was another guess you made after discovering a gun safe hidden behind a false wall under the stairs.

It was almost a game, once a day trying a hand full of combinations to see if any worked. Something mindless to fill an unoccupied moment of time. That’s when you really started going through the papers and books left behind. Looking for any clues at what the code might be. A notepad left on the small hallway table is where you scribbled down all the combinations that hadn’t worked, in a meager attempt to not repeat yourself. A small mystery to add a little life to your loneliness.

At night is when things really come to life this far out into the wilderness. In the early days of owning the property, before you were able to get the satellite internet set up, you’d spend the evenings watching and listening on the back porch. Deer were the most common, using the wide open expanse of a backyard as a place to graze in the evenings. Owls silently swooping down on field mice before retreating to the trees once more. Coyotes, crickets, and night birds made a symphony of nature most nights.

The most exciting were the wolves. You could always hear them howling in the distance, calling to one another. They weren’t like the coyotes that cackled over one another in attempt to sound larger or more numerous than they actually were. These were direct calls and responses. Their vocalizations sounding almost melancholy, as if they were yearning for something that seemed just out of reach.

It was a quiet night when you finally decided to respond to their calls. The evening had been spent making supply lists for your trek into the nearest town in the morning. A large cooler had been thrown into the bed of your truck to store items intended for the refrigerator and deep freezer.

You sat on the tailgate, listening to the night song that seemed to encapsulate the peaceful valley you now owned. A celebratory drink held in one hand and a small, proud smile graces your lips. Your house was starting to feel like a real home and that was definitely worth celebrating.

The wolves that you had grown fond of, yet had never seen, were starting up. Your favorite night song. A melody that you could listen to for hours. One you had listened to for hours.

Four. You could make out four distinct calls at this point. Two were more vocal than others, their tones more playful. One was definitely the pack leader. His call the first and last each night, like a command or an order. And one was rarely heard, usually only short responses and never as loud as the others. But the valley always carried their calls to you, teaching you their voices. They were faceless friends in your solitude.

So you call out into the night. The long howl a poor imitation of theirs, straining your vocal cords.

The night grows still. All goes quiet. As the silence passes for a beat, then another, your smile slowly falters and fades. A pang of disappointment and a small bubble of guilt at interrupting their conversation.

All animals, even fierce predators, could be skittish. You worried that your call had scared them off, ruining your chances of ever spotting them. With a hop you jump off the tailgate, slamming it shut in frustration. Heavy feet stomping all the way onto the porch and inside. You could only hope they hadn’t heard your foolishness and that something else has quieted them.

The night remains silent as you crawl into bed. The night song ending early and sewing sadness into your dreams.

But they had heard you.

Your distinctly human howling calling to a dormant part of their minds. They remembered themselves. They remembered their life in the valley. They remembered the house where their human lives were lived.

And they were coming home.

[fireya-x]

hold me close and tell me that it's real

【 AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist 】 ✦ John Price x Reader ✦ A message to a wrong number turns out to be just perfectly right. ✦ 4.7k words ✦ tags/cw: smut, neighbor!price, wrong number, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, strangers to lovers, aftercare

The bathroom air, thick with steam, clung to the cool tiles. The fogged mirror reflected a distorted image of you, a silhouette emerging from the swirling mist. You’d agonized over which photo to send the firefighter from Tinder, meticulously staging it until your body was just visible enough through the hazed mirror, the outline of your body a clear invitation. Biting your lip, a nervous blush warmed your cheeks. You usually weren’t one for such blatant displays of… yourself. 

But tonight, something felt different. Reckless. Desperate, even. Maybe it was the gnawing loneliness that had been settling in your bones lately — a constant, dull ache that no amount of casual encounters seemed to alleviate — that made you reckless. 

You reached for your phone and began typing a casual message, trying to sound as flirty and inviting as possible. Attaching the photo, you hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a familiar wave of self-doubt washing over you.  

Was this too much? Would he even be interested? Was your body even desirable enough?  

You’d always been self-conscious about your curves and softness, comparing yourself to the impossibly thin, toned figures gracing the pages of magazines, the women who seemed to attract the attention and affection you craved effortlessly. The string of meaningless dates, the empty encounters that had left you feeling more hollow than fulfilled, had only amplified your insecurities.  

You’re not enough. You’re too much. You’ll never find someone who truly wants all of you.

He was attractive, yes, this firefighter, with rugged handsomeness, but something still felt off. He wasn't him. He wasn't John Price, your enigmatic, handsome neighbor who sometimes fed your cat, whose presence electrified the air, sending a ripple of awareness through your senses whenever he was near. You’d always found him incredibly attractive, a silent, secret yearning simmering beneath the surface of your polite, neighborly interactions. But the brief, almost impersonal conversations you’d shared – about preferred cat food, the best local dry cleaner, the noise from the construction site down the street – had led you to believe that he saw you as nothing more than a friendly face in the hallway, a helpful neighbor. Certainly not someone he’d ever be interested in. 

But you couldn’t help it. Those stolen glimpses of him – carrying groceries, his strong hands gripping the bags, shirtless after he was out running or repairing his motorbike, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath the worn leather of his jacket – were seared into your memory, each a silent, secret fantasy. John Price, with the fine lines etched into his face by age and experience, the crinkles around his eyes whenever he smiled, the intense gaze that seemed to see right through you, the sometimes rough beard you longed to touch, the effortless kindness that radiated from him — he was everything the men you'd dated were not.

Still, he was a mystery, a silent, smoldering ember that had been slowly igniting a fire within you for months. A fire you’d diligently tried to extinguish, knowing, or rather believing, that it would never be reciprocated.

You hit send. 

Your stomach plummeted. No. Panic seized you, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. You scrambled for your phone, your fingers damp, desperately trying to undo the unthinkable, but the dreaded "Delivered" notification appeared on the screen. 

Mortification washed over you, hot and stinging, a tidal wave of shame threatening to drown you in its intensity. You sank to the bathroom floor, naked and now shaking, the forgotten towel a crumpled heap beside you. The stinging cold bathroom tiles against your skin seemed to mock your misery, amplifying your sense of utter humiliation. Your breath hitched in your throat, a strangled sob escaping your lips.

The text had been delivered to John, not Josh from Tinder - your damned clumsy fingers hit the wrong recipient. 

Then, a soft vibration against your thigh. Your phone.

John: Well, hello there. I wasn't expecting this kind of payment for occasionally feeding your cat. 

A wave of heat flooded your cheeks, the blush burning against your skin. He was teasing you. Of course, he was. He was probably laughing at you, finding your blatant display of desperation pathetic. You wanted to disappear, to melt into the bathroom tiles and cease to exist.

You: oh my god, john. i am so incredibly sorry. this was a complete accident. wrong number!! i can’t believe this happened

John: An accident? How disappointing. I am rather enjoying the view.

You: i should have checked correctly. i’m so sorry

You: i'm so mortified

You: i’ll find someone else to look after Milo

You: i am so so sorry

John: Mortified? Don't be. You look beautiful. Breathtaking, actually.

You didn’t know what to say. Was he being serious? Or was he just toying with you, enjoying your discomfort? You couldn’t tell; his tone was so carefully neutral. Then, another text.

John: Lucky guy who was supposed to receive that photo. 

You: just another date. nothing special. who knows

You typed back, trying to sound nonchalant, but your fingers trembled on the keyboard.

John: Are they treating you right, at least?

The question, so unexpected, so caring , caught you off guard. A lump formed in your throat, and the casual encounters of the past few months suddenly felt even more hollow and meaningless than ever.

You: sometimes

You replied, just a single word,  yet it was heavy with unspoken longing for something better.

John: Tell me, what was the plan with that photo?

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. How could you explain the desperate want you felt sometimes, to be needed, to be loved, to be seen?

You: i don’t know… i just hoped it would make him want me 

The words tumbled out, raw and vulnerable.

John: Do you want to be wanted, love?

The question, so simple, so direct, pierced through your defenses, striking deep within you. Your body was aching for a touch that had always seemed just out of reach. You’d craved it, yes, the feeling of being wanted, of being desired, but the encounters you’d had, the fleeting moments of intimacy, had never truly satisfied that yearning.

Instead, they’d only left you feeling emptier, more alone.

You: yes

You cringed inwardly at the desperation you put forward without hesitation. There was a small silence before your phone buzzed again.

John: I’d kiss away the water drops from your sweet tits to show you just how much I’d want you.

Your eyes went wide, a blush, hot and intense, flooded your cheeks at his boldness. You certainly hadn’t expected a text like that . 

You took a deep breath.

He wasn’t just toying with you. He was serious. This wasn’t happening. Was it?

Another vibration of your phone.

John: Tell me what you want, love.

And then, the dam broke. All the pent-up desires, the unspoken longings, the secret fantasies you’d harbored for so long came pouring out in a torrent of words.

You: Your hands on me. Your mouth. Everywhere.

John: What a coincidence. I want to worship your gorgeous body.

You: I want to feel your lips on mine, your tongue exploring my mouth… 

A shiver ran down your spine as you typed the words, the image vivid in your mind.

John: Another coincidence, because I want to taste you, love. Every inch of you.

You: id lie if i said i have never thought about how you’d feel inside me before

You: you’d probably feel so good

Why did you tell him that? You didn’t know. The thought simply sent a wave of heat through your core. Any shame that was supposed to be there was long gone. 

John: Fuck. I wish you could feel how hard you make me.

You: i wish i could

The three dots appeared on the screen again, promising another text from him. You stared at them with an intensity that bordered on obsession, your heart pounding with anticipation. What would he say next? What would he do? The dots danced again, then vanished, leaving you suspended in silence.

A sudden, sharp knock on your door echoed through the quiet apartment, and your heart leapt. You scrambled to your feet, grabbing the towel and wrapping it hastily around yourself. 

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest and your hand hovering over the doorknob. Then, taking a deep breath, you slowly opened the door.

John Price. Filling your doorway, his eyes dark with a desire that mirrored your own, his breathing ragged. He didn’t speak, didn't give you time to even register his arrival completely – the second the door was open, he reached for you, pulling you against him, his lips crashing against yours in a hungry, demanding kiss that stole your breath away.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice rough against your lips, his hands roaming over your body, mapping every curve, every inch of exposed skin. 

“You feel that?” He murmured against your lips, grinding his hips against yours, his erection pressing hard against your stomach. “That’s all you, love.”

Your mind went blank. You couldn't speak, only moan softly as his lips trailed down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin below your ear, his beard scratching the soft skin along the path. Your hands found their way to his back, pulling him closer, your fingers digging into the taut muscles beneath his shirt. You reached lower, grabbing him through his pants, desperate for more contact. He groaned, a low rumble of pure lust that echoed through you, making every nerve ending in your body sing.

“Mm, I’ve dreamt about touching you like this,” he groaned and pulled away, reaching behind him and closing the door, then carefully started walking forward while holding onto you, pushing you towards your bedroom with long strides, barely holding back himself. His hands were now ripping his clothes off and then your towel, leaving you completely naked in front of him – but you didn’t even register any of that. If you did, you probably wouldn’t care anyway.

He wasted no time, pushing you gently onto the bed, his body following quickly after. His weight was comforting and, at the same time, exhilarating. His lips found yours, hungry and demanding but with a tenderness that surprised you. It wasn't just lust; it was something more, something deeper. A connection you hadn't expected, but now, in this moment, felt undeniable. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the muscles dance beneath his skin. 

It just felt right. Like a culmination of all the stolen glances, the unspoken desires, the secret admiration you'd harbored for so long.

Never in a million years had you thought he’d think about you the same way.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck again. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. "So fucking perfect.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. No one had ever spoken to you like this, with such raw, unfiltered adoration. It made you feel beautiful, desirable, worthy in a way you hadn't before.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze intense, drinking in the sight of your naked body beneath him. A blush crept up your neck, a mixture of shyness and excitement. Then, his gaze dropped lower, his eyes dark and hungry as he settled between your legs. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation coiling in your belly. His hands framed your hips, his fingers tracing the delicate skin of your inner thighs, sending shivers dancing across your skin. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your core, making your muscles clench in anticipation. The tip of his tongue darted out, a tentative touch that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your clit. You gasped, your hips lifting involuntarily towards him. 

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and then he delved deeper, his mouth working its magic, his tongue and lips creating a symphony of sensations. 

He knew exactly what he was doing, his rhythm building, the pressure increasing, his tongue a skilled artist painting pleasure across your most sensitive flesh. “John,” you moaned, his name a breathy whisper escaping your lips, a plea for more. He hummed against you, a low, guttural sound of approval. You tangled your fingers in his hair, your nails scratching his scalp as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last. His tongue and lips worked tirelessly until your body tensed and balanced at the edge of release. 

And then, with a final, exquisite flick of his tongue, he sent you spiralling over the edge. You came hard, your body convulsing around his mouth, your cries unfiltered and shamelessly loud, a release so intense it left you breathless and trembling, your mind a blissful blank.

He rose, his eyes dark with satisfaction, a triumphant glint in their depths. Before he moved higher, though, his fingers dipped between your legs, testing your wetness. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking them slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. A warm thrill coursed through your body at the sight, a tingling sensation that ran along your spine. 

He leaned in, his body hovering over yours, his lips meeting yours in a deep, lingering kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue, the flavor intoxicating, a tangible reminder of the pleasure he'd just brought you – the combination of the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm and the feel of his lips on yours, his taste mingled with your own, was almost too much to bear.

As his tongue explored your mouth, he moved between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. With a soft groan, he pushed inside, slowly, carefully, his kiss deepening as he filled you. 

It was a perfect fit, a seamless joining of two bodies, punctuated by soft moans and your mingled breaths. 

And then, he began to move, his rhythm slow and steady, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, your moans soft against his lips. It was almost… loving. A gentle exploration, a tender dance between two lost souls connecting.

Suddenly, you felt his hands explore your folds, gently touching our clit, wandering down below where your bodies connected – before a finger pressed against your other hole – and your breath hitched. 

He seemed to notice your reaction and chuckled lightly. He stopped moving to look right into your eyes. “Tell me, did any of the Tinder boys ever fuck you here?” He put more pressure on your asshole, seeking entrance, and your entire world almost fell apart.

“No…,” you whispered, voice shaky. “No one ever has.”

“Good,” he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness. “Because I will, and I don't want anyone else touching you from this day forward. You're mine .”

He moved, his thrusts deep and powerful, his whispers raw and possessive, filling your ears with words of praise and adoration that made your heart ache with a happiness you’d never known. The way he moved within you, each thrust increasingly more intense – it was a declaration of his claim. You arched beneath him, your body molding to his, your moans a demonstration of the pleasure, echoing through the room. A heat bloomed within you, spreading through your limbs, pooling in your core, a fire ignited by his touch, his words, his sheer presence. 

You accepted your fate of being his, completely and utterly his, captured and taken - and yet in that moment, helpless and surrendered to the intoxicating power of his possession, you’d never felt so free .

He continued to thrust, his rhythm relentless, his body a perfect complement to yours, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, your nails raking across his skin, leaving marks that mirrored the ones he was leaving on your soul. The world narrowed to the space between your bodies, the sound of your mingled breaths, the raw, unfiltered pleasure that was consuming you both.

Then, just as you felt yourself on the precipice of release, he pulled out, leaving you achingly empty, a void where his warmth and hardness had been just moments before. A whimper escaped your lips, a soft sound of protest, of longing. He turned you over, his hands gentle but firm, guiding you onto your stomach. A shiver of anticipation and a nervous thrill ran through you as you felt his breath hot against your ear, his voice a husky whisper that sent goosebumps rippling across your skin.

“Do you have any lube, love? I want this to be perfect for you.”

You nodded, barely able to point toward your nightstand. Your entire body trembled endlessly, not knowing if it came from pure arousal and lust or this unexplainable affection you felt towards him — how considerate he was with your pleasure and, more so, with your comfort. It left you speechless and breathless, exposed and bare, and longing to never come down from this high, no matter how hard the fall would eventually become. 

You silently cursed yourself and the universe for not letting you know there had been a connection between you so much earlier, so you could have been spared all the emptiness and loneliness the fleeting encounters with other men always left behind.

He reached for the nightstand drawer, pulling out a small tube of lubricant. He looked you directly in your eyes – it felt like an unspoken vow, a wordless agreement to give yourself to one another in the deepest possible sense. It felt utterly intimate – to let him , a man you were so painfully shy with just moments ago, perform such an act… how strange the universe worked – and how intensely right it all felt.

His touch was gentle as he lubricated his fingers, one after another, and then reached behind you – so carefully circling your puckered entrance, making you moan softly in surprise and wonder at the completely new feelings. It felt like being touched for the first time in places nobody ever cared to explore – let alone so masterfully gentle and knowing like this. A mix of strange anticipation, embarrassment, and the sheer thrill of being touched by this man sent shivers through your core.

“So fucking tight,” he murmured, pushing his first finger inside, slick with a mix of lube and your juices, so very gently at first. “Want me to fuck that pretty little hole, love?”

“Yes, please ,” you whined, sounding utterly desperate and shameless. With nobody before, you’d ever begged - yet with John, it slipped from your lips almost naturally. He chuckled, and his mouth twisted in a wicked smile, making your heart race.

He continued to prepare you, adding a second finger, slowly stretching you, his touch both firm and incredibly tender, your entire lower abdomen now twisting and pulling itself down in involuntary anticipation of being filled. You gasped, a small moan escaping from your lips. The feeling of being so tenderly explored made tears spring to your eyes. No one had ever treated you like this, with such reverence, such care. You put your head down on its side, trying to catch a glimpse of him, wondering why or how someone like John Price – the distant, mysterious neighbor who seemed to exist in a world of his own, someone who you deemed out of reach just an hour ago, now took such incredible, passionate care of you , making you feel precious . It was almost too much to handle, each gentle stroke making you feel more overwhelmed and wanted. It was everything you always fantasized about, what having a lover truly could feel like but never dared believe to be true. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” 

You gasped, your body convulsing, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. But it was a good pain, a delicious, welcome ache, a sensation unlike anything you’d ever experienced. He continued to explore your depths, stretching you, accustoming you to the unfamiliar feeling, his touch patient and understanding. His fingers slowly widened you, his movements deliberate and unhurried, giving you time to adjust, to relax into the sensation. All the while, his other hand was buried between your folds underneath you, and his thumb continued to caress your clit, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body, distracting you from any discomfort, replacing it with a growing anticipation.

“Tell me if it's too much,” he whispered. “I don't want to hurt you.”

His words, his tenderness, his concern for your pleasure, melted away the last of your apprehension. You moaned softly, over and over, your body arching against his touch, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

Then suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the lubed head of his cock, pressing gently against your entrance. “Ready, love?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart pounding in your chest. He pushed inside, slowly, carefully, giving you time to adjust to his size, his fullness. You gasped, a small cry escaping your lips, but it wasn't pain, not exactly. It was a new sensation, intense and unfamiliar but somehow just right. He paused, waiting for you to relax, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip, his touch a silent reassurance. A feeling of belonging settled deep within you, a terrifying, exhilarating connection unfolding between you.

You knew, with certainty, that this would never be the same with anyone else.

He began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, his thrusts deep and powerful, filling you completely. You cried out, your voice a mixture of pleasure and surprise, your body arching against his, desperate for more. He whispered dirty praises against your skin, his words a heady mix of possessiveness and adoration, fueling the fire within you. “You're so fucking tight,” he groaned, “so perfect. All mine.”

With another groan, he pulled you flush against his chest, his arm wrapping tightly around your body, his large hand cupping your breasts, pressing you against him. He held you there and continued to move, but the rhythm changed, becoming a desperate, needy grinding, his hips pushing against yours, the friction building, the intensity escalating. You whimpered again, your head falling back against his shoulder, lost in the overwhelming sensations. It was too much, too intense, too good . You didn’t even know what was real anymore. All you knew was him , the feel of his body against yours, the sound of his breath and his growls in your ear, the raw, unfiltered pleasure that was consuming you.

His other hand moved between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, circling, rubbing, adding to the already overwhelming pleasure. You arched your back, your body writhing against his, your moans growing louder, more desperate. He added two fingers to your slick heat, swirling and stretching you, sending shocks of pleasure through your already overstimulated body. You cried out his name, over and over, lost in the sensations, lost in him.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, “just like that, love. Take it all.”

You shattered, your body convulsing around him, cries mingling with his groans in a symphony of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The release was an explosion of sensation so intense it left you breathless, trembling, mind blissfully blank. He continued to grind against you, each thrust echoing the receding waves of your orgasm. Then, he went still, holding you so tightly against him you forgot how to breathe. The sensation of him pulsating deep inside you, buried within your ass, was exquisitely intimate. It was a connection so profound, so utterly consuming; it sent another ripple of pleasure through your still-sensitive nerves. You felt the warmth of his release, a shared intimacy that brought tears to your eyes. Teeth nipped at your shoulder, followed by a growl that bordered on animalistic, a raw expression of his own pleasure. 

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his arm, holding yourself as close as physically possible as he shuddered through his climax. It was a moment of such raw vulnerability, such complete surrender. 

For a fleeting second, a flicker of fear sparked within you – the fear of losing this connection, this incredible intimacy. 

But he didn't let go. The expected detachment, the sudden chill of loneliness, didn't happen. Instead, he held you close, almost protectively, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His lips brushed against your ear. “You're incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “So fucking incredible.”

His words were a balm to your soul. He hadn't discarded you like the others. He held you as if you were precious, as if you were something to be treasured. You turned in his arms, burying your face in his chest. A warmth spread through you, a deep, abiding sense of peace you hadn’t realized you’d been craving. 

Fear whispered that you were overstepping, that this closeness was too much, too soon, but his arms held you captive.

The self-doubt that had plagued you for so long, the insecurities that had whispered insidious lies in your ear, the ghosts of endless, disappointing dates and fleeting encounters – all of it washed away, cleansed by his touch, his words, his sheer adoration. You held onto him, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline, the only solid thing in a world that had become fluid and uncertain. 

A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “So,” you murmured against his chest, your voice still shaky, “does this mean I can repay you like this for cat-sitting more often?”

He kissed your temple, a tender gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you. “Love,” he whispered against your hair, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin, “Not that it matters, but I'd fuck you for free.” He chuckled. 

“As often as you'll let me." He paused, his breath warm against your ear, and added, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "In fact, I have a feeling I'm going to need to. And want to. A lot." He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, a possessiveness simmering in their depths. "What's mine," he whispered, his voice low and intense, "is mine."

His words were dark, almost dangerous, but the way he said them, the intensity in his voice, the possessiveness in his gaze, made something deep within you stir.

Belonging. It was a dream you'd almost given up on, a fantasy that had faded with each meaningless date, each disappointing encounter. 

His thumb gently stroked your cheek. “You said those other… dates … they only sometimes treat you right?”

His words, soft yet pointed, pricked at the carefully constructed wall around your heart. You swallowed, suddenly shy again. They… they don’t see me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m just… a body.” You hesitated, then continued, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I miss… talking. Laughing. Being held. Someone who looks at me like… like you just did.”

His face softened, and he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Then let me show you how you deserve to be treated.”

“Are you going to stay?” you whispered, the question barely audible, scared of his reaction.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze holding yours intensely. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed, your fingers finding the short strands of hair at his nape.

“What about your date?”

“You’re better than any date is ever going to be,” you said, the conviction in your voice surprising even yourself. “I never thought you’d… like me this way,” you whispered. 

“I always have,” he confessed, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip. “I’ve been dreaming about kissing these lips every time you smile at me in the hallway.” He paused, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “That photo… might have been your best mistake ever."

You smiled a genuine, happy smile that reached your eyes. “Keep it,” you whispered, your heart swelling with a joy that felt excitingly new. “And maybe... send me one back sometime?”

He grinned, a flash of heat in his eyes. “I'll see what I can do.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, his beard prickling against your skin. “Now,” he murmured, “where were we?”

[wqnsho]

Can I request frontman x reader(Any gender) Where the frontman meets the reader OUTSIDE of his games, and then realizes he likes them?

(Sorry if I expressed myself a little unclearly)

soju | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: after rescuing a stranger late at night. hwang in-ho finds himself sharing soju with the girl he just saved. under the glow of the convenience store, an unexpected bond forms, offering a fleeting escape from his solitude. *.✧ word count: 3.7k *.✧ warnings: happens outside squidgame, attempted crime directed at reader, drinking, mentions of death. don't go drinking with people you don't know alone btw, this is just fiction. *.✧ note: hello to the requestor! hopefully this tickled your fancy :P thought about it earlier so I decided why not? I wrote this in 5 hours, hopefully it suffices. shorter than my past works! also a different writing approach. masterlist | request here

༉‧₊˚. As the overseer of the Squid Games, Hwang In-ho has an insane amount of workload like no other. Setting up the venue, recruiting trusted employees, and scouring for rich sponsors are just a few of the countless tasks he manages every year. ༉‧₊˚. He’s a busy man, constantly on his feet, ensuring everything runs seamlessly. But when his boss, Oh Il-nam, forced him to take a week off, he was left with an unfamiliar emptiness in his schedule, unsure how to fill his time. ༉‧₊˚. Currently, he’s sitting outside a small convenience store, a bottle of soju in hand. It’s nearly midnight—11:58 PM, to be exact—and the streets are eerily quiet. ༉‧₊˚. The air is cool, the weather perfect, and for a moment, it feels peaceful. With no one around, it’s just him and his thoughts. It’s a strangely calming experience, though the loneliness creeps in at the edges. ༉‧₊˚. As the Frontman, he has no companions he can freely invite to moments like this. No friends, no family, and no one to share his burdens. ༉‧₊˚. It’s not a bad thing, he tells himself. After all, solitude means safety. Yet, there’s a part of him that yearns for someone to confide in—someone who wouldn’t judge him for the ruthlessness his position demands.

As In-ho took another shot, the warm burn of soju did little to chase away the emptiness in his chest. The faint hum of neon signs and the soft rustle of leaves were the only sounds accompanying him, a quiet solitude he had come to both expect and resent.

Then a scream shattered the night, sharp and jarring. It pierced through the calm like a knife, slicing his thoughts in two.

He froze, the glass of soju hovering mid-air. For a brief moment, he did nothing, his body stiff with instinctual awareness. But before he could overthink it, his years as a police officer took over. He stood abruptly, scanning the dark street for the source of the commotion.

Down the road, just beyond the glow of the convenience store, two drunk men loomed over a figure, their rough voices slurred with mockery. The figure struggled in vain, her cries muffled by one man’s grip.

In-ho didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. His strides were purposeful, his steps heavy with intent. “Hey!” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. “Let her go!”

The drunk men froze, startled by his sudden approach. One of them turned, squinting at him in drunken confusion, before muttering something incoherent. But whatever courage they might have had faltered under the weight of In-ho’s glare, his presence exuding a quiet but dangerous authority. Without another word, they staggered off, stumbling into the shadows.

The figure crumpled to the ground as soon as she was released, her body trembling with shock. In-ho approached cautiously, his gaze softening. “Hey,” he said gently, kneeling down beside her. “Are you hurt?”

There was no response. Her breathing was ragged, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. In-ho hesitated, unsure if his presence was more comforting or alarming. Slowly, he shrugged off his coat, its fabric worn but warm, and draped it over her trembling frame.

“Here,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “This’ll keep you warm.”

The weight of the coat seemed to ground her, and she finally looked up at him, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the faint glow of the convenience store’s sign. Her eyes were wide and glossy, a mixture of fear and gratitude.

With a steady hand, In-ho helped her to her feet. She was light, almost fragile, as if a strong wind could knock her over. “Come on,” he said, guiding her gently back to where he had been sitting.

Once there, he gestured for her to sit, his movements deliberate and unhurried. For a while, neither of them spoke. The quiet stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a moment of reprieve, a chance for her to catch her breath.

“Thank you…” she finally said, her voice soft and trembling.

In-ho turned to her, his expression unreadable. “It’s no problem,” he replied, his tone calm but distant. “Just doing my job as a policeman.”

The words felt foreign on his tongue, a ghost of a past he didn’t like to dwell on. But he pushed those thoughts aside. “What are you doing out here at this time anyway?” he asked, his voice softer now.

She hesitated, pulling the coat tighter around her shoulders. “I just came out to grab something from the store,” she said quietly, glancing at the convenience store behind them. “Didn’t expect to run into… that.”

In-ho nodded slowly, studying her. She avoided his gaze, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of his coat. “What were you buying?” he asked, his tone casual, trying to put her at ease.

She blinked, then let out a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Just snacks. Ramyeon, chips… comfort food, I guess.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Comfort food at midnight? Sounds serious.”

“It’s nothing dramatic,” she replied, shaking her head. “Just one of those nights where you need something to make it feel a little less heavy, you know?”

In-ho’s smile faded, replaced by something more contemplative. He nodded again, his gaze dropping to the half-empty bottle of soju beside him. “I get it,” he said quietly.

The silence returned, but this time it was lighter, less oppressive. After a moment, In-ho reached for the spare cup he had brought earlier, rinsing it with a splash of soju. “You drink?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

She glanced at him, surprised by the question. “Uh… sometimes.”

He tilted his head toward the bottle, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. “Well, since you’ve already had a rough night, might as well join me. One drink won’t hurt.”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering between him and the bottle. Then, with a small nod, she said, “Sure. Why not?”

In-ho poured her a drink, the clear liquid catching the dim light as it filled the cup. He handed it to her, their fingers brushing briefly as she accepted it.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice a little steadier now.

He raised his own cup in a quiet toast, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before they drank. The burn of the soju was familiar, grounding.

For the first time that night, the gnawing loneliness in In-ho’s chest seemed to ease, replaced by the quiet comfort of shared company. There was no need for words—just the soft clink of glasses and the understanding that, sometimes, even the smallest connection could make the night feel a little less heavy.

༉‧₊˚. After three cups, In-ho quickly noticed that she wasn’t handling the alcohol too well. The slight slur in her words and the way she began to lean more heavily on the table after each sip made it clear. ༉‧₊˚. He felt so stupid inviting a girl with low alcohol tolerance to drink, but there was no backing out now. ༉‧₊˚. At first, he was concerned. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel worse because of the soju. But as the conversation continued, he began to notice something else. ༉‧₊˚. The alcohol seemed to help her relax, peeling back the careful guard she had when they first sat down. Her genuine personality emerged, warm and unfiltered, and for the first time that night, she seemed completely at ease.

“Y’know,” she said, words stretching slightly as she rested her chin in her hand, “you’re not as scary as you look.”

In-ho raised an eyebrow, amused. “Scary? Is that how you saw me?”

“Mmhm,” she hummed, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “When you came running over earlier, I thought you were gonna punch them in the face… which, by the way, would’ve been really cool.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.”

“Good, ‘cause it was meant to be one,” she replied, pointing at him with a slightly wobbly finger. “You’re like one of those grumpy cats. All intimidating on the outside but probably super soft if you get to know them.”

“That’s quite the comparison,” he said, smirking, unsure whether to be insulted or impressed.

She shrugged, leaning back in her chair, her eyes still bright. “I’m just saying what I see.”

In-ho found himself amused despite himself, the playful jab catching him off guard. “So, what else do you see?” he asked, curiosity creeping in, but keeping his tone casual.

She raised an eyebrow, considering the question for a moment, then grinned. “I think you’re the type of person who pretends not to care but secretly does. And that makes you kind of a softie.”

“Wow, that’s deep,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you come up with that all on your own?”

She nodded, looking proud. “Yep. I’m a great judge of character.”

He shook his head, clearly entertained by her. “Well, I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment, her smile softening. “You’re not as serious as you seem,” she said thoughtfully.

In-ho met her gaze, surprised by the shift. “Is that a compliment too?”

“Maybe,” she replied with a shrug. “But it’s true. You’ve got this whole... tough guy thing going on, but I can tell you’re not really like that.”

He let out a small laugh, leaning back in his chair. “You sure know how to read people, huh?”

She smiled, a bit smug now. “I told you, I’m good at this.”

༉‧₊˚. In-ho wasn’t the type to open up to strangers easily, but there was something about this encounter that felt different. ༉‧₊˚. Maybe it was the ease with which she joked, her humor a refreshing change from the weight of his usual silence. Her teasing nature and quick wit chipped away at the walls he usually kept firmly in place. ༉‧₊˚. She wasn’t scared of his tough exterior, and in some strange way, that made him feel… lighter. Her playful comments about him being too serious made him laugh—something he hadn’t done in a long time. ༉‧₊˚. One bottle of soju turned into two, then three, with neither of them really keeping track. The night, which had started off quiet and somber, slowly transformed. The stillness gave way to a lively energy, filled with soft laughter, comfortable silences, and warm conversation. ༉‧₊˚. As the alcohol worked its magic, the distance between them seemed to vanish. It wasn’t just the soju—there was something about her presence that made In-ho forget about the heaviness that often weighed on his mind. ༉‧₊˚. Her words were easy, her tone warm, and she spoke with such ease that it made him feel as though he could let go of all the unspoken burdens. She didn’t push him for anything, didn’t try to draw out his thoughts. She just was, and somehow that made the night feel less lonely.

“I mean, think about it,” she said, her giggles spilling out as she waved her chopsticks for emphasis. “If you weren’t a cop, you could totally be one of those broody action movie guys. You know the type—sharp jawline, mysterious aura…” She trailed off for a second, tilting her head as though she were analyzing him. “Like Lee Byung-hun!"

"You’d totally be the antihero. Do you practice glaring in the mirror, or is it just… natural?” She added, slurring a bit.

In-ho blinked, caught off guard by the question. His first instinct was to brush it off, but something about her teasing made it hard to not play along. “I do not practice glaring,” he said, his voice laced with mock indignation, though the corner of his lips twitched upward.

She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes like she was examining a specimen under a microscope. “Hmm…” she murmured, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t know… feels a little too perfect to be unpracticed. You sure you’re not rehearsing in front of the mirror at night?”

He rolled his eyes, but a laugh escaped him despite himself. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

She grinned, unbothered by his apparent defeat. “And yet, here you are, sharing soju with me,” she teased, tapping the rim of her cup with a smug expression as if she had just caught him in a trap. “Must be my charm.”

In-ho snorted at the playful arrogance in her voice. He looked at her—her easy smile, the glint in her eyes—and realized that, despite his usual guarded nature, he didn’t mind this. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it. “Well, I guess I couldn’t resist your charm,” he replied, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, come on,” she said, feigning offense, “You’re telling me the brooding cop is actually soft under all that tough exterior? That’s a plot twist I wasn’t expecting.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “What, you think I’m just some soft guy who lets anyone in?” he asked, the hint of a challenge in his voice.

Her grin widened, a mischievous spark dancing in her eyes. “Maybe,” she said, taking a dramatic pause, “but I think I’ve cracked the code.”

In-ho stared at her for a moment, half-amused, half-caught off guard. There was something about the way she didn’t hold back, how effortlessly she made him feel at ease, that got to him more than he’d like to admit.

“You think you’ve cracked it, huh?” he asked, leaning a little closer, his voice lowered slightly as if testing the waters.

“Maybe,” she said, still grinning, “But you’re not getting off that easy. I’ll need more time to figure you out.”

In-ho chuckled, a genuine sound, free of the usual tension he carried. He looked at her and, for once, didn’t feel the weight of being the brooding guy with a past to hide. She was right about one thing—she was definitely making him feel lighter.

“I think I could get used to this,” he said, raising his cup to hers in a silent toast.

She clinked it with a quick grin. “You better,” she said with a wink. “You’re stuck with me now.”

༉‧₊˚. By the time they finished their third bottle, her cheeks were flushed, and she was laughing at every little thing. Her laughter was infectious, bubbling up at the smallest of jokes or even just the awkward silence between them.  ༉‧₊˚. In-ho, who wasn’t much of a drinker himself, found himself laughing along, not so much at the jokes, but at her genuine enjoyment. ༉‧₊˚. He had never been one to let loose, to be this open with anyone, but her easygoing nature was different. It was so refreshing that it caught him off guard in the best way. ༉‧₊˚. He wasn’t used to this—being around someone so unguarded, someone who could just be, without constantly second-guessing every word or action. And it made him realize how long it had been since he’d truly let go of his own reservations. ༉‧₊˚. At one point, as they were talking about something completely random, she started humming a little tune to herself. ༉‧₊˚. The notes were soft, almost silly as if the melody had just popped into her head. It wasn’t a song, just a tune she made up on the spot, and before he knew it, she started singing it aloud, her voice a little off-key but full of life.

“Do you hear that?” she said, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “It’s a hit in the making. You should totally record it.”

In-ho’s lips twitched, resisting the urge to chuckle, but he let it slip out anyway. Her randomness was infectious. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but something about this moment made everything feel lighter, almost like he was seeing the world from a different angle.

He watched her for a moment, her laughter still echoing in the quiet night, and a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips.

It was rare for him to feel this easy, this unburdened. Normally, there was always something pulling at him—the weight of his responsibilities, the shadows of his past. But with her, everything seemed to fade away.

Her laughter, her carefree spirit, her utter lack of restraint—it was a stark contrast to everything he was used to, and yet, for once, it felt right. It was exactly what he needed.

“So, are we starting a band now?” he teased, leaning back in his chair, his voice light and relaxed.

She looked at him with a wink, clearly pleased with his response. “Well, you’re the tough guy with the brooding stare, so you’re definitely the lead singer,” she replied, pointing at him with a grin.

In-ho shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for singing,” he said, his voice still warm with the aftereffects of their shared drink.

She tilted her head, staring at him for a moment before speaking with a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, no. You’re definitely the lead singer. The whole ‘I don’t care, I’m too cool’ thing. It’s perfect.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m not broody,” he protested, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him.

“You’re definitely broody,” she teased, winking at him.

In-ho gave her a smile, but when his eyes shifted to his watch, he saw it was already past 3 a.m. His face softened slightly, and he frowned as he set his cup down.

“It’s getting late,” he said, his voice quieter now as he stood up, the weight of the hour sinking in.

She groaned, leaning back in their chair dramatically, clearly not ready for the night to end. “Already? You’re no fun, Officer,” she complained, the playfulness still in her voice.

In-ho shook his head, half-amused, half-concerned. “And you’re someone who needs to get some sleep,” he replied firmly, holding out his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

She pouted at the suggestion but took his hand anyway, stumbling slightly as they stood up. “Fine, but only because you’re being all responsible and stuff,” she said with a mock pout, though her lips were curled in a smile.

In-ho chuckled, steadying them as she swayed a little. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself enjoying the moment—taking the time to care, to share something lighthearted, even if it was just for a brief while.

༉‧₊˚. On the walk to their apartment, their playful teasing didn’t stop. She nudged him with her shoulder every chance she got, laughing at her own exaggerated guesses about his “dark and mysterious backstory.” ༉‧₊˚. In-ho found himself relaxing more than he thought possible, their carefree energy infectious, filling the air between them with an ease he hadn’t felt in ages. ༉‧₊˚. For once, he wasn’t thinking about the weight of his past, or his responsibilities, or any of the worries that usually clouded his mind. He was just... enjoying the moment.

“So,” he said after a while, his voice light as they neared her building, “you’ve got my name, but I don’t think I ever got yours.”

She stopped in front of the door and turned to face him, giving him that mischievous grin he was beginning to recognize and love. “It’s [Lastname] [Name],” she said, her voice soft but steady, her eyes sparkling with that playful glint.

“[Name],” he repeated, the unfamiliar sound of it rolling off his tongue as if testing it for the first time. He nodded, as if committing it to memory. “I like it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Yup. And don’t forget it.”

He chuckled, a low sound that felt foreign but good. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

She stepped closer, her grin widening. “Thanks for tonight, In-ho,” she said, her voice softening just a little. “You’re a good guy. Like, a really good guy.”

The compliment hit him harder than he expected, and for a brief moment, it made him uneasy. Good guy? His mind flickered back to his role as the Frontman—the games, the deaths he orchestrated, and the weight of the people he’d let down. He wasn’t sure he deserved to be called “good.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, but it wasn’t easy. He rubbed the back of his neck, fighting the warmth rising in his chest, the sense of contradiction gnawing at him. “I’m not so sure about that,” he muttered, a modest shrug masking the inner turmoil. His mind battled with the reality of who he was.

With a deep breath, he focused on her again, the playful spark in her eyes grounding him. “But… you’re welcome,” he said softly, the words coming out more genuine than he expected, despite the turmoil that lingered beneath.

Before he could say anything else, she leaned up, quick and confident, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. It was brief, just a fleeting touch of her lips, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. The warmth of the kiss lingered on his skin, and for a moment, he was frozen, caught completely off guard by the simple, sweet gesture.

She pulled back, smiling at him with that same playful glint. “Goodnight, Officer In-ho,” she said with a wink, her voice light and teasing, before stepping into her apartment and disappearing behind the door.

༉‧₊˚. In-ho stood there for a moment, his fingers brushing over the spot where her lips had just been as if trying to hold onto the feeling a little longer.  ༉‧₊˚. A rare, genuine smile spread across his face, one that felt unfamiliar but welcome. He let out a quiet breath, feeling something shift within him—a sense of warmth, of connection, that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. ༉‧₊˚. Turning away, he started walking back towards the direction of his apartment, his steps lighter than they’d been in a long time.  ༉‧₊˚. For once, the weight in his chest felt a little less heavy, and there was a certain peace in the quiet night air. As he walked, he thought, maybe Oh Il-nam wasn’t so bad for forcing me to take a week off after all. ༉‧₊˚. With the memory of her kiss still lingering, he couldn’t help but smile again, the thought of her brightening his steps as he headed back into the night.

[impval]

cinnamon in my teeth pt.2

CaitVi  x fem!reader

You were so used to coming home to an empty, silent house. No parents, no friends, no one to greet you after your shifts at work. Just the soft, solitary hush of an empty house.

The silence sat heavy on your shoulders - that feeling of being alone, and isolated.

You'd spend hours sitting quietly, lost in your head.

You'd go hours without speaking a word to anyone, the only company you had being the sound of your own heartbeat and the voices inside your head.

Life was quiet. Lonely.

But now… now the house was full of sound. Of warmth and laughter and love.

You'd come home to the sound of arguments, of giggles and laughter, of two women who loved you very dearly. You'd be met with smiles instead of loneliness, and you'd be greeted with warm kisses before even finished saying hello.

The silence was still there sometimes, but it was different. Softer. It was a comfort to walk into the house and still feel the presence of your girlfriends, even when they weren't there. Their clothes, their accessories, their distinct scents.

They didn't always come home together, unfortunately. Their jobs often left them both late at night, either one getting home before the other, sometimes both being late. Caitlyn was a workaholic, so often she'd be at her desk well beyond the hours most normal people would consider reasonable.

Caitlyn was an incredibly dedicated person, and while you knew work was important to her, both you and Vi were always happy that she tried to make time for you.

There were times when it was hard, though. When she'd come home in the late hour, looking tired and worn out and stressed. When she'd spend long hours hunched over paperwork, and you'd find her in the middle of the night, still not done.

But overall, it wasn't too bad. You appreciated that she was willing to put work aside for you and Vi.

You can never get excited for Fridays. You love that the end of the week brings a break from work, but at the same time, that Friday energy always seems to bring all the idiots with it. Meetings, last minute reports, and unexpected calls from clients who need their paperwork signed by the end of the week.

You let out a soft sigh, dropping your pen down on the desk. Your back popped as you finally straightened your spine, feeling the knots of pain in your shoulders unknotting.

Your eyes roamed over the rest of the office, eyeing out your coworkers. Just like you, they all had that shrimp-like slouch, slumped over their desks.

Office life was slowly destroying your back.

Your eyes narrowed as you spotted your boss, standing across the office with a cup of tea and another coworker. Your boss is an absolute ass - a massive jerk who thinks that just because you're the younger, he can push every last responsibility onto your shoulders.

But he'd been much quieter lately and seemed to be avoiding you like you had a deadly disease, passing on work to others instead of giving it directly to you. It was a strange change.

And there was something about the glitter on his neck that was familiar… pink and blue, he tried covered it with a scarf but you noticed. The glitter dusted across his skin, plus the hint of a limp he now had, and the fact that someone had spent an entire day cleaning the graffiti from the his office...

You finish the last of the coffee in your mug, unable to help a small smile lifting your mouth.

Caitlyn and Vi hadn't promised to stay out of it, but Jinx… Jinx didn't make such promise.

Jinx was Vi's younger sister, and the relationship between the sisters was… complicated, to say the least. At least they weren't currently fighting, but it was only a matter of time.

She was insane, that was for sure. But you also kind of liked Jinx… when she wasn't kidnapping you or trying to burn down the city, that is. Despite her occasional kidnappings and pranks, Jinx did sort of treat you differently than anyone else. You couldn't quite pin down why.

You were normal. A civilian, no history of violence, no blood on your hands, an average person. Perhaps it was just because you were normal.

It had been an odd encounter when Jinx kidnapped you for first time, but the first thing you'd said to her? "I like your hair."

The clock on the wall finally reached the end of the work day, marking the end of your shift.

You stood from your seat, stretching your stiff back, letting a sigh out of your lips. Your boss looked nervous as you smiled at him, walking past.

The evening air was cool, sending a chill down your spine. With a sigh you tightened your jacket around your shoulders, searching for any sign of Vi.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands fall over your eyes, and a familiar voice spoke behind you.

"Guess who?"

Vi leaned her face close to your ear, her smile widening as she heard your comment, her breath warm. You could feel a smile tug at your lips, the familiar scent and warmth of your girlfriend's presence bringing you comfort. The feel of her body next to you was as natural and comforting as breathing.

"A bit predictable, don't you think?" you smirked, a slight hint of sarcasm in your tone.

"Maybe. But it gets you every time."

She moved her hands away from your eyes and instead wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. The kiss was light and gentle, and you could feel the blush quickly take over your cheeks.

Vi's hair was a bit dirty, a mess of tangled locks, yet somehow it still looked as cool as ever. There was a slight smudge of dirt across her cheek, probably from some sort of grease, and you reached up to wipe it away.

Vi's arm wrapped around your waist as you took slow strides towards your house, your pace relaxed in the cool evening air. The walk wasn't far, only ten minutes from the office.

You still couldn't believe it sometimes, living in a mansion now, a far cry from your small apartment, and you had two girlfriends. Life was weird.

"How was your day?" Vi said softly.

You loved your job for the most part. Yeah, it had endless paperwork and tedious reports, but it paid the bills, and the people you worked with were nice and helpful.

Vi didn't always fully understand what you said, but that never stopped her from paying attention and trying to grasp the concepts. It was one of the things you loved most about her - her unwavering attention and curiosity.

The walk home was filled with you discussing work and venting to Vi, who listened and asked questions in the right spots. She nodded along, making noises of understanding to let you know that she was following along.

The lights of mansion glowed warmly in the windows as you and Vi approached, letting you know that Caitlyn was home. Perfect, since that meant she was probably already cooking dinner.

Vi didn't quite know how to cook, although Caitlyn and you was more than happy to help her. You usually took the lead in the kitchen, but you'd grown tired of it recently, and you couldn't deny the appeal of Caitlyn handling all the cooking.

You and Vi exchanged a knowing look, both of you thinking the same thing. Caitlyn's cooking was that good.

The moment you stepped into the house, the scent of freshly-cooked meat immediately hit your nostrils, your mouth watering at the thought of a proper meal after a day filled only with snacks.

Both you and Vi walk into the kitchen, finding Caitlyn standing by the stove. She looks adorable in the little apron she’s wearing, and you can tell she's a little tired - her forehead is creased with a worried little crease, and her messy hair is pushed back into a bun.

The moment you enter, she turns to you both, a warm smile on her full lips.

"You're home!" Caitlyn exclaims with a pleased sigh.

You watch as Caitlyn leans over to give Vi a swift, affectionate kiss. Vi leans into the kiss, her arms wrapping around Caitlyn waist in a tight little pull.

"I missed you," she murmurs.

It was true that a lot of people didn't understand how three women could be in a relationship with each other. So many people tried to insist it was some sort of twisted experiment - that someone had to be left out, or that everyone was secretly miserable.

You had heard the questions - Don't you feel lonely? Don't you get jealous? - and you usually had just shrugged them off with a wry smile. After all, you were dating both the two most beautiful women in existence.

Jealousy? Loneliness? You feel neither.

Caitlyn then turns her attention to you, her expression softening.

"And I missed you too," she adds, her hand coming up to gently caress your cheek. "Did you have a good day, sweetheart?"

"It was..work as usual." You can't help smiling. It's such a stupid, lovesick, soft expression - like lovestruck puppy.

But you don't care at all.

Caitlyn smiles back, the corners of her eyes crinkling faintly.

"You're all happy like an idiots," Vi teases, an amused scoff in her voice. Her arms are still wrapped around Caitlyn's waist.

"Just work, huh?"

Caitlyn raises a curious eyebrow, her eyes watching you closely. A flicker of something - something you can't quite decipher - crosses over her face. There was something in her expression, like she was expecting a certain answer from you.

Well, someone had to set Jinx on your boss, right? Well, Caitlyn promised not to hurt your boss. Smart decision and no broken promises.

She nod regardless, and simply says, "Dinner's just about ready, so you might want to go wash up before you eat."

"Ugh," Vi groans, her grip growing tight on Caitlyn, as if it's to hold her in place.

Caitlyn simply rolls her eyes and gently bats Vi's hands away from her. "Go," she says, her voice firm. "You can't eat if your hands are all dirty."

You take Vi's hand and start to pull her towards the bathroom, leading her away from Caitlyn.

Vi gives one last, half-hearted protest, but she lets you pull her away without too much fuss. She follows you to the bathroom, and you start to wash at the sink.

It's so stupid how cute Vi can be when she's pouting like this. She's always been so used to getting her own way that she acts like a whiny five-year-old sometimes. It's both adorable and incredibly annoying at once.

You all sit at the table, and Vi is already shoveling food into her mouth like a greedy puppy. She's completely ungraceful, taking large, messy bites.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, is incredibly slow, savoring every bite of her food. She's a woman raised with manners and discipline, after all.

Christmas was on its way, and you now had a beautiful tree in the living room. Vi has never, ever been able to celebrate Christmas properly. Now she was going through all the effort to make her first Christmas "proper," and it was adorable how enthusiastic she was about it.

She was practically vibrating with excitement when you all first got the Christmas tree out. Her eyes lit up so brightly as she excitedly babbled about how much she was looking forward to decorating the tree together.

You all chat. The snow is falling outside, slowly blanketing your home in a layer of white, soft snow that creates a sense of comfort. Vi is so excited that you can't help but laugh at the fact that she didn't even notice the mess she's made of her own face.

Caitlyn has to wipe away some of the sauce from Vi's face, muttering about how she's a mess - but there's an affectionate, amused smile on her face.

You remember the days of instant ramen in a bowl and a quiet, empty apartment - you were always alone. The difference now is incredible, the change in lifestyle so immense that it still feels a little like a dream sometimes.

Christmas has always been a bit of a mixed bag for Caitlyn - she didn't hate it by any means, but there was always a lot of pressure for her to be on her very best behavior.

She would have had to arrange an event for the entire Kiramman family, which meant she would have had to talk to an awful lot of people who she absolutely did not like.

You're aware of this, and you'd make sure that she'd never have to go through it again. So you'd insisted that both of your girlfriends spend Christmas with you - no formality, just three girlfriends together in a happy home. You wanted it to be a peaceful holiday, without the usual stress.

As you pick up the dirty dishes, Vi cracks her knuckles and stretches before heading upstairs to take a shower. You know she'll be waiting in bed for you and Caitlyn later.

Caitlyn follows you, her hands at her sides, looking at you as you start washing the dishes. She watches you for a moment, studying you quietly.

Caitlyn has never been fond of people doing chores in her home. She'd rather do it herself, even though it was never necessary. She'd grown up in a house with servants, and she always hated it - it left her feeling like an outsider in her own home.

There is a time you remember when her gaze scared you. The weight of her stare was almost uncomfortable. She was so strong, so smart, so intimidating. Now you cherish that gaze. Now you love it when she stares at you.

"You know, my boss has been incredibly quiet lately," you say, breaking the silence with a saccharine-sweet voice.

Caitlyn's eyes narrow at your comment, a small frown marring her perfect face. She knew you knew.

Somehow, Caitlyn had convinced Jinx to... prank your boss. You knew Jinx wouldn't have thought to do it on her own - she was currently too busy with Zaun politics to really care about your problems. You hadn't seen her in months.

"He was?" she says, her tone as calm as your own. "I wonder why."

You finish washing the last dish in the sink, and turn off the water.

Caitlyn gives you a towel, and you quickly start to dry your hands. There's something you want to say, but you can't outmaneuver Caitlyn - she grew up with all these little games, and you, for all your effort, can never really match her.

No games, then.

"Jinx? Caitlyn, honey, just how?"

Caitlyn snorts, her head tilting to one side as she pushes some hair out of her face.

"How do you know it's me?" she asks, pretending to be unperturbed by your accusations. "Maybe it was Vi."

You roll your eyes, so hard it almost hurts.

There's no way it was Vi. She never would've thought up something like this on her own - and she would never be able to talk to Jinx without a fight. Those sisters are hopeless, two bickering children. You honestly wish they'd just get therapy or something.

Caitlyn laughs at your reaction, the sound soft and amused. She pulls you closer, wrapping her hands around your waist. She smells of spice and food - but there's that lingering scent of gunpowder there, that was just a part of her now. Always lingering like some sort of phantom.

"It helped that she likes you," she said, voice laced with amusement. She knew Jinx had a soft spot for you, and she'd have used that to her advantage. "And she likes to cause chaos, and i showed her the right direction."

Right. Well, you definitely won't tell Vi about this.

You nuzzle your face into Caitlyn's neck, just like a affectionate cat.

"I should've handled this myself." You murmur against her skin, your voice a little annoyed. You're not sorry for the man getting what he had coming - the jerk deserved it.

Caitlyn lets out a small sigh, your statement coming as no surprise to her. "I know," she murmurs, her voice soft and gentle.

Your girlfriend knew about your insecurities all too well. She could see the way you eyed Vi and her, the way you'd always compare yourself to the two of them. Just a regular person - you worked in an office job and had never stepped foot in combat. Nothing really special.

Caitlyn was particularly attuned to your feelings - she'd known you long enough now to be able to tell when you were feeling especially down on yourself. You were so much more to her than "nothing special."

Because you were a remarkable person. You should have more confidence, and know that you were worthy, special, and desirable in your own way.

She murmurs apology as you nuzzle against her, and you feel her gently running her fingers through your hair. "You know I hate that man for treating you the way he does," she murmurs, her voice soft and caring.

You and Caitlyn press each other close, clinging together. You both know that you can't stay like that for too much longer - Vi probably already waiting in the bedroom for you both, and she's not exactly the most patient person in the world.

Caitlyn presses a soft, final kiss to your forehead, before slowly detaching herself from your embrace.

"We should go to bed," she mumbles. "I'll probably get chewed out if we keep Vi waiting."

Caitlyn leads you up to the bedroom, a soft look in her eyes as you try to stay awake.

A yawn escapes you, and you cover it with your hand. Not only were you glad you didn't have to go anywhere tomorrow, but you were incredibly happy to get to just curl up in bed all morning, with both of your girlfriends still asleep beside you.

You loved those quiet moments. The stolen glances, the walks through the city, the soft touches and easy banter. It just felt so good, so right.

Yes. Life was good.

[beloveds-embrace]

NORTHERN DUKE KÖNIG STEALING DUCHESS PRICE PT 2 !! Where he finally puts his plans into action and maybe gets a moment alone with the duchess and confesses his feelings and maybe she tells him she's been wanting an escape because she's been trapped in a loveless marriage and has lost hope on John ever loving her so she's 100% on board with his plan. Maybe König even tells her that he doesn't believe in the rumors of her being barren, that he thinks it's John whose infertile only for the duchess to reveal she hasn't slept with John at all and idk maybe Konig becomes angry with how neglected she's been and makes an intense vow to never leave her unsatisfied.. mentally, emotionally, physically 😏.

The garden was silent beneath the heavy cloak of snow, save for the crunch of your boots as you followed Duke König down the winding path. Lanterns lit the walkway, their golden glow casting long shadows against the frost-kissed hedges and frozen roses.

It was beautiful. Quiet. Safe.

But your pulse pounded in your ears. König hadn’t spoken since he’d asked you to walk with him, and the weight of his silence filled the space between you like smoke.

You stopped beside a stone bench, your breath curling in the cold air. “Your Grace?”

He turned sharply at the sound of your voice, his pale blue eyes catching the light and glowing like ice under a full moon. For the first time, you saw something raw there- uncertainty, vulnerability, and something far more dangerous simmering beneath the surface.

“I cannot keep this to myself any longer, Duchess,” He said, voice low and rough.

Your lips parted, but he stepped closer, towering over you with a presence that stole your breath.

“I have tried to resist it,” König continued. “To be honorable, to keep my distance- but it is impossible when every moment apart from you feels like torment.” His gloved hand brushed your cheek, hesitant and reverent, as though he thought you might disappear if he touched you too firmly.

You shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity in his gaze.

“Your Grace…”

“Tell me I am not mad,” he pleaded, soft and fervent. “Tell me I am not imagining this connection between us.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, and your throat tightened. “You’re not.” You whispered.

Relief washed over him like a crashing wave, but it didn’t temper the fire in his eyes. He cupped your face with both hands, his calloused thumbs brushing over your skin as if memorizing the very shape of you.

“Then come with me,” he said fiercely. “Let me take you away from all of this.”

Your breath hitched, eyes wide. “You mean… leave John?”

His lips curled in frustration. “A man who does not deserve you,” he snapped. “Who parades you around as a trophy while the world whispers lies about you. Who neglects you so cruelly that you-” He stopped, exhaling sharply as if the thought pained him. “You deserve more.”

You swallowed, your voice trembling. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hold back the next words that poured out. How many nights have you spent in the aching loneliness of your bedroom, aware that your husband merely tolerated you out of necessity and nothing else?

“I know.”

König froze, searching your face. “You… know?”

You nodded, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “I’ve wanted to escape for so long. I just… I didn’t think anyone would ever care enough to take me away.”

His expression twisted, anguished and furious. “Care enough?” he repeated, dangerous. “I would burn kingdoms for you.”

A sob broke from your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him, letting him pull you into the warmth of his embrace. His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he could shield you from the world. There was something so delightful, so safe, in the way he held you so wholly- hiding you in his arms from all the world.

“But what if the rumors are true?” you whispered against his chest, saying aloud the doubts that have started to take root in your mind from hearing all the rumors swirling about you. “What if I can’t give you the future you want? What if I can’t give you children?”

König pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands bracketing your face. “I don’t believe the rumors,” he said firmly. “Not for a second. It is Price who is unworthy- he is the one who has failed you, mein Liebe, not the other way around.”

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. “He hasn’t failed me because we’ve never even tried.”

König stilled, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

You looked away, ashamed. “We’ve never lain together. Not once.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

König’s hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders trembling with barely contained rage. “Not once?”

You flinched at the venom in his tone, but when you looked back at him, there was no anger directed at you- only heartbreak.

“He’s treated you like this?” König growled. “As though you are unworthy of his attention, his affection? Like a possession to be displayed but never cherished?”

The tears were freely flowing now, and no verbal confirmation was needed.

A guttural sound rumbled in König’s chest, his fury barely leashed. “He has neglected you. Deprived you.” His voice dropped, dangerously soft. “I swear to you, I will never make that mistake.”

You blinked up at him, startled.

He stepped closer, his presence alone overwhelming. “I will never leave you unsatisfied- mentally, emotionally, or physically.” His voice was a vow, sharp and unyielding, not allowing any space for doubt. “You will never have to wonder if you are loved, worshiped.”

The heat in his words sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t step away. If anything, you leaned closer, tearful eyes wide.

“Say you’ll come with me,” König urged, his thumb brushing away your tears. “Say you’ll let me take you away from this emptiness and give you the life you deserve. Be my Duchess.”

Your breath caught. This was a horrible decision- you couldn’t imagine what would be said about you, about König, what your parents might do, what John might do-

“Yes.”

König didn’t wait. His lips crashed against yours, fierce and desperate, as though he’d been holding himself back for far too long. You melted into him, clutching at his coat as he deepened the kiss, claiming you with every stroke and sigh.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, and his eyes burned with promise.

“Two days from now,” he said. “I will send that Narr your divorce papers, and I will take you away from this nightmare.”

And for the first time in years, hope bloomed in your chest.

[twooftheluckyones]

Cult of the Lamb fancomic: Luck of the Lamb

Part 1: Give Unto Me A Name

To say the name of the gods is to knock against the doors of their divinity. Such that they held their true names closely, for the call could surpass all barriers. Exchanging true names became a sign of partnership, trust, and perhaps even in some cases, union…

~Next~ ~~~~ Story Segment Under Cut ~~~~

"-and boil for eternity!" Narinder boomed, laughing to himself as he imagined Heket locked in a cauldron of oil. Chains tightened against his arms from his motions, and his laughter withered like a sail with no wind. He bowed his head and was quiet for a long moment, looking the Lamb in the eyes. "Return to your cult. Shamura is the last to hold me. Drive a knife in their heart, and at last I will be free... Go now. Please." He pointed towards the stone to teleport back, mind a mixture of rage, gloom, and loneliness. She nodded, excited by his sheer energy and power. But before she left she had a question. "...I have one request," she paused, hands wriggling in a sudden flash of anxiety. Shamura's words echoed in her mind, one burning like a forbidden flame. "I was told your name while on my mission, but I wanted your blessing before I dare use it... As your vessel, may I address you by name?" "You ask for so much little lamb," he chided. "Do not press the limits of our affiliation too quickly." He paused, humming thoughtfully, an ear flicking. Perhaps there was something to be gained here. "I will not give you the privilege without something in return." His brow raised, curious. "Tell me your own and you shall have mine." She hadn’t given her name in a very long time. It was hard to even remember it at all. Memories of her 'life' were almost foggy, stretching back hundreds of years from the time she'd spent in his service. From the depths she retrieved it, but more than just her name surfaced. Her father, pinned down with arrows bristling from his chest as he pleaded for her to run. Her mother, grabbing her wrist in a vice grip as they fled. The memory was so distant, yet felt like it had just happened. "Una. My name is Una." Her voice numb, barely a whisper. She blinked, shaking away the past and returned to meet his eyes. "Una..." He tasted her name on his tongue, trying to decipher what it meant. He hadn't been on the surface in hundreds of years, culture was entirely lost. "Very well then, you may refer to me as Narinder. But know that divine names have power. To use them can be a summoning, of sorts. Were you to use my name, I would know it. Your shred of divinity may share that, so guard your name well." Shadow covered his face, nothing but the faint light of three red eyes breaking past its veil. "Not all summons are made with good intentions..." He looked at the chains on his wrists, glaring with hatred. "Narinder," His name had a distinct flavor. Faintly reminiscent of the iron tang of blood, a faint chill lingering beyond the sound. She could feel the magic in it, sparks in her body, tingling and electric. While she knew she would only use his name in conversations with him and him alone, that didn't mean she wouldn't use it in private moments of prayer. Perhaps he would be just a little present in those now. She liked that thought, smiling and blushing despite herself. "Your name will be cherished and protected." "Good. Now Una, go rid this world of my enemies, slowly and horrifically please." He grinned, sharp teeth glistening from ear to ear.

Narinder watched her go, as she turned into an ethereal energy and vanished. The gateway was silent. The realm of death was not known for its liveliness. Aym and Baal stood stoic and unflinching, as if they had not heard any of the conversation. Slowly the tension in his body faded, feeling the familiar weight of the chains on his arms. Soon. Patience. Their next meeting would likely be after Shamura's defeat, and then everything would be in place.

"I look forward to our next meeting Una."

[yazzwrites6962]

Lonely ♡ L Lawliet

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ L Lawliet x Fem!Wife!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! Established relationship between L and the reader. This is the first smut I have ever written, so pleaseeeeee be patient with me. I'm just a baby writer (I'm over 18. Don't take this literally). If you find any more warnings I should list, please let me know! I don't own any characters or images!

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Summary: It's lonely being the wife of the greatest detective in the world, especially when he's not the best at showing affection. However, something seems different about him today.

Word Count: 2533

Warnings: Sexual content, themes of loneliness, slight angst, OOC L, Fem! oral receiving, penetration, unprotected intercourse, light breeding kink, praise, begging, daddy kink, creampie.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you married him. You knew there would be many nights when he wouldn't come home. You knew there were some compromises you would have to make. Still, it took its toll on you over the years.

It felt like he married you out of convenience. You met young, and you fell so deeply in love with L the moment you saw him. Maybe it was his wit, or the deep charming look in his eyes. All your friends teased your obvious, painful crush on him. You didn't care. Your heart was set from the moment you met him.

The day he approached you and asked you to marry him was the happiest day of your life. You readily agreed without a second thought. You didn't pause to question why he asked. You didn't ponder about the fact you had only a handful of interactions.

"After much observation, I had determined that you will make an exceptional spouse." That's what L always told you when you would ask why. It was true. On the rare occasion that your husband was home, he had a nice meal waiting for him. He had a clean home and a made bed. It was a practical relationship.

He gave you affection, of course, but it always seemed like a chore to him. There were only a handful of times the two of you had been intimate. He never fully seemed to give himself to you, and the loneliness began to weigh you down.

A quick buzz sounded from your phone. You pull yourself off the couch, stretching a bit before checking the notification. It was a text from your husband. He was on his way home, after a week of being caught up in his work and sleeping at the office again. Despite all your conflicting feelings, butterflies fill your stomach. You love your husband. That has never changed.

You rush yourself to the kitchen. Early in your marriage, you'd managed to learn how to make his favorite desserts. You began to slave away over the counters, wanting to give your best effort. L was rarely ever home, so when he was, you gave it your all.

You hear the front door open. He's home much faster than you had anticipated. The desserts you were working on are still baking. You hadn't had time to get ready. Your hair was a mess, your clothes covered in creams and flour, and no makeup. You see L round the corner into the kitchen before his eyes land on you.

"Welcome home, Sweetheart." You say with a chuckle. "You came so much quicker than I thought you would. I haven't had time to finish my cooking or clean myself up."

L is silent, his gaze fixed on you. You grow nervous, fearing his disapproval. He seems tense or frustrated. You have trouble telling what's going on in his mind. He nearly never opens up about his feelings to you.

"Is everything alright? You seem... quiet." You comment, wiping your hands and approaching your husband. "Is everything going alright at work?"

"I want to have intercourse," Your eyes widen as L finally speaks. There were not the words you were expecting to hear. Not even a greeting. Straight to the point. "With you, of course."

"W-Well, no duh with me! I'd sure hope so!" You choke out, growing embarrassed. "What's this about? You seem off, Sweetheart. What's going on?"

"I love you." L says suddenly. He had only said this once before, on your wedding day, and you hardly believed that. It only felt as though it was part of his vows. You were always the more affectionate one, expressing your love without expecting any response.

"I... I love you too." You mutter, shocked by this sudden declaration. "W-What's going on, L. Seriously. If something is wrong, I need to know. I want to help."

"I know you do. You always have." L gives you a rare smirk, awkwardly wrapping his arms around you. Hugs were given on occasion, but this felt different. You could hear his heart beating out of his chest as you lay your head against him. "You have always been my greatest ally, Y/N. I realize that my appreciation for you goes unspoken more often than not. I would like to have intercourse, as a display of my gratitude and affection for you."

You look up at him, scanning his expression. It's comforting to feel his embrace. It's something you rarely get to experience. Yet, you feel this must be too good to be true.

"Darling, you don't have to do anything like that for me to know that you appreciate me, or that you care." Although, in the past year, you truly haven't felt appreciated or loved. You've felt more like a maid than anything.

"Y/N, I want you." He says, in a tone that sounds like a nearly frustrated whine. It's a sound you have never heard before. Still, everything indicates that he is speaking the truth.

He hesitates for a moment before leaning down to meet you face to face. His hands reach to your chin, tilting your head slightly. It's almost as if he's inspecting your face. Just as you are about to ask what he is doing, his lips land on yours.

Your husband was never fond of kissing. He was disgusted by the idea of sharing saliva. Yet, here you were, squeaking in surprise as his tongue forced his way into your mouth. You relax into the kiss. It's soft, and passionate. Your heartbeat practically echoes throughout the room as your excitement increases.

His hands find their way to your waist. He rubs circles on your skin and toys with the fabric of your shirt. You lean into him, your hands roaming his surprisingly toned chest. When you first married, he was much scrawnier than he is now. The thought of your wedding fills your heart with joy.

It was a small ceremony. Private. Very few people knew. Still, you felt as though you were the luckiest girl in the world. When those doors finally opened and L laid his eyes on you, you could've sworn you saw him tear up.

"You are arousing." He whispers in your ear, snapping you out of your pleasant memories. His hands snake under your shirt and gently trace your bare skin. "Even such minimal contact with you can cause a physical reaction."

You look down to see the outline of a very large bulge through L's sweatpants. His arms wrap at your hips, picking you up off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. His erection prods against you. He carries you to your bedroom, gently placing you onto the bed. His dominance and affection are unusual, but very much welcome.

"Do I have your consent to remove your clothes and proceed with intercourse?" You chuckle at his formality. You've known him so long. He's seen every part of you. Yet, something still makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Yes, Lawliet. You do." With that, his hands swiftly move to your pants, sliding them off your hips, down your thighs, and finally off your body entirely. He kneels against the side of the bed, peppering kisses on your skin.

Beforehand, intimacy felt somewhat cold and distant. He had always kept your enjoyment in mind, but had never shown so much affection as he had been showing now.

You feel your arousal pooling as his kisses make their way higher and higher, his thumb teasing at the waistline of your panties. He hooks his index finger around them, slowly pulling them down.

"My, someone is eager." He jokes, his hands positioning your thighs over his shoulders. "Open wide for me, Princess." Simply the sound of his husky voice calling you an affectionate pet name would've made your heart race. What makes your heart nearly explode was the feeling of his tongue swiping a line up your wet core. You let out a shaky breath as he continues, lapping up your arousal.

At first, he is slow and delicate. This is something you had never done before. L was never a fan of foreplay. He enjoyed getting straight to the point. However, as small whimpers and moans escaped your throat, his intensity increased. He grew desperate to hear more, devouring you like an animal. Your thighs squeezed around his head, but this did not stop him. His tongue continued to make your mind go cloudy. Soon, you felt your climax approaching.

"L-Lawliet!" You whimper, moans cascading from your mouth like a waterfall. "I can't take much more!" Your hands, which once gripped the bedsheets, travel to your husband's unruly hair. You tug it lightly, causing him to grunt. His nails dig into your waist as he continues.

Soon, you find yourself releasing on his face with a loud moan. He licks up your liquids and you squeak as his tongue passes back over your most sensitive parts.

Your husband stands, his chest heaving as he undresses. Any remaining garments of yours are shed quickly as well. The moment feels so intimate, and vulnerable. You reach towards the nightstand. With how infrequently you and your husband would have intercourse, you find it somewhat pointless to consistently take birth control. Instead, your primary contraceptive was now condoms. However, L's hand stops you at your wrist.

"I want to have a child. Would this be acceptable to you?" He asks, gently, his eyes never leaving yours. This feels like such a sudden development. L had never expressed interest in having a family before. However, this was something you had been hoping for since the beginning. Tears of joy fill your eyes as you nod. "May I have your verbal confirmation?"

"Of course, my Love." You say quickly, as if the opportunity will pass you by. "I'd want nothing more, but where is this coming from?" Your husband smiles as he leans over your frame, his arms on either side of you.

"I have found myself thinking of you more and more often. The idea of protecting and providing for you has always been in my mind. Yet, in the past few weeks, I have been craving your warmth under the pressure of my current case." L says softly. You listen intently. He has rarely ever opened up about his feelings. Especially not about your relationship. "I do not mean physical warmth in this context. Although, that is something I have missed. I am referring to your overwhelming domesticity and optimism. You are comforting."

"I find you comforting too." Your hand cups his cheek. He nods, happy with your response as he lifts your right leg ever so slightly, positioning himself at your entrance. You look down, spotting his throbbing cock, pre-cum leaking from the tip. You didn't think it possible to become more aroused than you already were, but here you felt your heart race faster and your face grow warmer. He teases you, rubbing himself against your wetness. "Please, Baby." You groan, earning a hitch in breath from L.

He pushes himself in slowly, feeling your warm walls squeeze around his as he bottoms out. He exhales a shaky breath, his nails clawing at the sheets and his eyes squeezed shut. He fears that if he opens his eyes and sees you beneath him, he wouldn't last.

"You take me so well." His voice is low, and he finally opens his eyes. He has given you a few moments to adjust, and he begins to pump in and out of you.

His thrusts are slow and loving at first as he praises you, peppering you with kisses. As your moans and whimpers grow louder, his thrusts pick up in speed, like he's feeding off your pleasure. The sounds of wet slapping skin fill the room, accompanied with L's occasional labored breaths and grunts. Your legs are wrapped around his hips, and your nails scratch into his back. You can tell your husband is getting closer to his climax, as his thrusts become more animalistic and sloppier.

"That's my good girl." He growls as your walls tighten; you're getting closer to your release as well. You whimper, his name slipping from your lips. This only seems to send him further into depravity, as he lets out a loud groan and a hand grabs at your ass.

"I-I'm so close-" You whimper as your husband presses into your sweet spot over and over again. His pace slows down, his eyes laced with desire.

"Beg for it. Beg to cum for me, or I will stop." You don't dare test or tease him. You know that he absolutely has the self-control to stop right then and there. Your legs tighten around his hips.

"No! Please! Don't stop, L. Please, I need this so bad. Please, let me cum. You make me feel so good Daddy." Though you had never called him this before, it seemed to unlock something within him. His thrusts become faster than you can handle, and your orgasm begins to wash over you. "A-Ah! Please! Right there!"

"Fuck." He whispers, lowering his head beside yours. You can hear his subtle cursing and growls right in your ear. Your mind fogs as you reach your climax, biting down on his shoulder as you cum on his cock. "G-Gonna cum-" He does so soon after, emptying himself out inside you with a couple extra thrusts.

He takes a moment to catch his breath before collapsing onto the bed beside you. The glimmer of sweat on his bare chest is truly a sight to see. Somehow, his hair managed to get even messier than it usually is. You giggle, happy to see your husband in such a vulnerable state.

"I hope you found this satisfactory." He turns to you, his eyes shining with affection and adoration. You turn on your side, laying your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

"What's gotten into you?" You ask, tracing doodles on his body with your finger. He hums, thinking of a proper way to answer your question. "You're very affectionate today."

"There are a pair of individuals I have been observing for a time. They go by the names of Light Yagami and Misa Amane. Miss Amane is quite affectionate with Mr. Yagami. However, I notice that he often will not return this sentiment. She is left unsatisfied and desperate for any crumb of attention from Light." L turns to you, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. "I do not desire to do the same to you. I do love you, Y/N. Since the day I met you. I would like to have a family with you. I would like to be more present. I want you to feel the love I have for you."

You smile, hugging his tightly. You try to hold the tears in your eyes. You've always been relatively confident that he cared for you and loved you. He just shows his affection a little differently. Yet, his concern for your happiness filled a loneliness you'd refused to acknowledge for a long time.

"I love you too."

[katsu2ji]

homesick — k. bakugou

a/n: to everyone going through a season of change, no matter how big or small, i love you :')

katsuki does a lot of stupidly annoying things sometimes, but one thing he will never, ever, do, is make fun of you for being homesick. he might joke around at first, but the moment he noticed you going silent and getting too lost in your own head, he makes a mental note to keep his mouth shut. he doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything for fear of making things worse for you. he just lays down beside you, holding you up a bit and letting you cry as much as you need to. he doesn't care if you soak his shirt—it's you, for crying out loud. "it's just some damn fabric, it'll dry."

afterwards, he's doing everything he can to distract from the loneliness you may be feeling. he's grabbing a weighted blanket, arranging it so that most of the comfortable heaviness lays on you just right. he's getting you some water, making sure you get the rehydration you need so that you don't end up with a headache. "i don't wanna hear you complainin' later," he carefully teases with a small smile, glad to see you faintly return it. he's moving back into bed with you, resting comfortably at your side, a silent reminder that he's here. you're not alone like your mind is trying to convince you.

when he feels like the floor is open again, he's trying to bring back that smile. he's reminding you of all the good reasons for this change, the goals he knows you have and are capable of accomplishing. in his own katsuki-bakugou way he's trying to get you to focus on the positive side of things, something that you're usually doing to him. but he's willing to switch roles, because if there's one thing that makes him feel more helpless than anything else in this world, it's seeing the people he loves upset.

the feeling of homesickness can be hard, that he knows. it's a that feeling like your heart is squeezing in your chest and you can't stop it, and he's not gonna pretend like he hasn't felt it before. but at the end of the day,—and as cheesy as he knows it would sound coming out of his mouth—you've both got each other. he's not the biggest fan of change either, but he'd gladly go through a thousand different lives with you. he vows right then and there to make as much of a home for you as possible, whatever it looks like. he knows he can't make the uncomfortable feelings go away, but if he can loosen the painful tightening in your chest just a little, he'll do whatever it takes to see you smile again.

katsu2ji © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

[ena-writes-stuff]

— unscheduled break.

˒ ⌕ with his work consuming more of his time, the special evenings you once shared become rare. feeling the strain of this separation, you decide to visit him during a livestream.

— warnings: smut, female reader, use of his real name

— words count: 2.3k

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He had warned you an hour ago that he was going to start a stream on his secret Twitch channel. It was a well-established routine: every now and then, he would lock himself in his office to dedicate a few hours to livestreaming, attending meetings, or even catching up on emails. During these periods, you chose to stay in his room, using the time to work or study something that needed to be resolved.

Despite the routine often feeling solitary, there was a valuable compensation: when evening arrived, after dinner, you knew you would get to enjoy moments together. It was a special time reserved just for the two of you, a moment you eagerly anticipated. It was during these hours that you could snuggle in his arms, feel his warmth and scent, and be enveloped in a comforting embrace. Sleeping next to him, feeling his scent mix with yours, made everything sweeter and more meaningful. These little things, these shared moments, were what made the wait and loneliness of the day more bearable and gave purpose to the time spent apart.

But, since last week, things had changed drastically. The frequency of your time together had decreased significantly. He was increasingly busy with work, and this extra load was causing a misalignment in your schedules. There were days when you would wake up early in the morning and find his office still lit, with him immersed in his work. It seemed that instead of starting his day by your side, he was beginning earlier and ending later. Other times, you would be woken up in the middle of the night when he tried to get into bed in the dark, after you had spent hours waiting for him and eventually falling asleep.

He had promised to make up for the lost time, to find a way to get things back to normal, but that promise seemed distant and increasingly unlikely. The special moments that used to mark the end of the day, the cuddles at night, now felt like a distant echo of a time that was no longer a reality. The longing for those hours together grew each day, and the time that once seemed so well-balanced between work and personal life was now heavily tilted towards work and stress. The yearning increased, and you had the chance to have a few minutes with him at that moment, if you could manage to stay quiet enough. The desire to be by his side, even for a brief moment, was intense, and your heart pounded with anticipation for the reunion.

So you decided to do something that had long remained just a timid, almost impossible thought at the back of your mind. Entering his workspace, even for a fleeting moment, was a risk you were willing to take. The room was silent except for the constant sound of the keyboard and Alexis' own loud voice. As you opened the door, you made sure the creak was as discreet as possible. The door itself made a low noise, a sharp sound that seemed to fill the space for a moment, but not enough to penetrate the ambient noise and reach the microphone picking up your beloved's voice.

“Hey, babe,” his voice softly echoed as he finally turned to face you. Despite the visible exhaustion on his face, he seemed determined to keep up with his work marathon. The idea of playing Fortnite for two hours as part of the job seemed surreal, but it was the reality of the moment. “I’m still live, and I think after this, I have a meeting with—”

The conversation was taking a direction you were familiar with. Your eyes wandered between your boyfriend’s face, the muted microphone, and his two computer screens. On one of them, the Fortnite game continued; his character was standing still, a clear indication that he had stopped focusing on the game to pay attention to you. The screens' glow reflected off the glass screen, mixing with the fatigue in his eyes.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice heavy with the sincerity of your feelings.

He blinked, as if the simple recognition of your desire for connection had awakened a new level of awareness in him. “I miss you so much too, my dear,” he replied with a tired smile. “Just a little longer, and the stream will end. After that, we can meet and talk more.”

“No,” you cut off the idea, with a slightly whiny tone, not wanting to think about when that would actually happen, allowing yourself the luxury of ignoring any other complaints or excuses he might make. “Here. Now.”

The words came out softly, almost a whisper, as you moved closer, your body gently leaning toward him. Your lips sought his with a touch of delicacy, as if they were made of the same ethereal material as dreams. The kiss started soft and exploratory, the taste of his sweet kiss filling your tongue, as you indulged in a subtle game of intimacy.

Alexis, in turn, responded with an instinctive caress on your waist, his hands sliding slowly in an affectionate gesture. He wasted no time giving in to the kiss he had been longing for, his emotions spilling into a deep and genuine kiss. Each touch, each movement, seemed like an unspoken promise, a reaffirmation of the desire that had grown between you. The moment extended, the connection between you both strengthening with each passing second, while the world around seemed to disappear, reduced to a sequence of soft sighs.

“It’s better if we stop; I think chat is already missing me…” Despite the frustration of losing contact and pleasure, you merely nodded, acknowledging that he was right and that it was the best course of action. The tingling sensation you felt as you dragged the back of his hand across your cheek brought immediate relief, as if a painter was spreading colors on a blank canvas. He really knew you, inside and out. “But I’m really tempted to just…” he whispered, not needing to finish the sentence for you to understand what he was thinking.

He wore a black pair of shorts that contrasted his tanned skin, and on top, he had a tank top, both of which screamed 'comfort' when you looked at him. His dark hair was tied in a ponytail, a move that must have been a daily routine. With a mix of curiosity and boldness, you gently brushed my fingers against the sudden bulge that had formed between his thighs. The intimate contact was undeniable, and after so long of abstinence, he was putty in your hands.

Your palms slightly tingled with the power it gave you; as a studious and outspoken individual, this kind of control was intoxicating, if not a bit unexpected.

“My love, can you please help me out?”

As Alexis’ voice zapped through your system, your legs betrayed you, buckling underneath your weight. Like a marionette pulled by strings, you tumbled to the floor in front of his office chair. A fiery wave of desire blossomed within you, an urgency to kneel and serve him, to satisfy his every whim. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the keys of his keyboard, his voice quivering as he tried to string together an excuse for the delay. He knew he was failing, couldn't hide the truth: you being to obey, to give in to his demands, all while he broadcasted to his viewers who were oblivious to the situation. The lack of webcam, a small mercy, spared them the spectacle.

Your heart raced, nerves and hunger warring within you. Sweat dampened your skin, the clinging tendrils of your hair a reminder of your flustered state. The thought of pleasing him, of serving him, sent a shiver down your spine as you lowered his pants, the underwear he was wearing followed suit, revealing his erect manhood that seemed to be craving for your touch. With your heart racing, you stood there for a moment, taking in the sight before you, your gaze lingering on the pulsating flesh that begged for attention.

Lovely.

Your mouth moved to his throbbing member, lips wrapping around it as your tongue teased the sensitive tip. You swallowed greedily, desperate to take him in, before pulling back to tease. Your hand joined in, skillfully caressing his length in a rhythmic dance. You were eager and satisfied, ready to serve.

As your eyes watered, you tried to keep your focus, swallowing hard as you felt the thick cock invade the recesses of your throat. The sudden force caught you off guard, but you couldn't show it. Your gaze flicked to Alexis’ face, a silent reminder of where you were, a girl with her mouth full, sucking off your boyfriend that tried his best to focus on the game and not to moan in pleasure. Your hands worked diligently, gripping his shaft tightly. You caressed him fervently, your fingers playing teasingly with his heavy, aching balls. With each stroke, you reminded yourself why you were doing this — for him. Your tongue danced eagerly along his length, willing to give him everything he craved.

You fixated on his every reaction and micro expression, drinking in the visuals he provided. Your attention was abruptly pulled away when he let out a dangerously loud whimper. Your hands flew to his mouth, shushing him. "You're being too loud, baby," You whispered, your lips curling into a soft, amused smile. You watched as he hurriedly muted the microphone, the shuddering moan that escaped him only further fueling your excitement when you saw he unmuted again. "Hush, love. Quiet, remember?" You reminded him, keeping your voice low.

You watched as Alexis nodded, the rocking motion coming to him with ease. You could sense the rising pleasure within him, and though he strained to suppress it, soft whimpers and gasps of air still managed to escape. Your hand found its way to his thigh, gently squeezing and whispering, "Shhh, shh, baby. I know it feels good, baby."

It became increasingly clear that the intense pleasure his body was experiencing was taking a toll on his performance. Sure enough, he lost another match in the game, slamming his hand against the table in what could have been frustration from losing, or an attempt to alleviate the mounting arousal. The tension in the room was almost palpable.

"FUCK!" Alexis screamed, gripping a fistful of your hair and forcefully pushing his erection against your face. In a split second, he decided on a plan — pretending to be so enraged the he’d cut the live stream. He reached for his computer, shutting down the stream as his cock invaded your mouth once again. Now it was just the two of you and that was the perfect moment that you would be able to worship him.

He fixed his gaze in your eyes, being able to see the way you stared at him. The look of his own perdition. He sighed heavily, moving his hip while the low moans escaped. For a moment, he tilted his head back, just feeling the pleasurable sensations that ran through his body when he had your tongue sliding so well through his cock.

You really knew how to drive him crazy with your touches and if for some moment he thought he didn’t, he had been too foolish. His cock went in and out of your mouth easily, he was already in ecstasy, fucking on cloud nine.

There was a sheer ecstasy that washed over his face. His body trembled, a testament to the intense delight that consumed him. Drunk with lust, he succumbed, the intensity of his orgasm palpable between you. He allowed himself to spill any drop of sperm into your throat, letting the overwhelming sensation take over him.

Your gaze drifted to Alexis, who had collapsed into his chair, his body slick with perspiration. His heavy breaths echoed in the silence of his office. He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, leaving a smear of moisture in its wake. You couldn't help but notice the flushed hue that spread across his features, a testament to the pleasure he'd just experienced.

Observing him in this vulnerable state brought a twisted sense of satisfaction, knowing that he, the studious and outspoken one, was now rendered weak.

He finally looked down, his eyes expressing a mix of concern and regret as he observed the uncomfortable situation you were in. "Shit, I'm sorry, my love…" he murmured, his voice laden with remorse, as he carefully lowered himself to hold your hands. With a gentle and protective gesture, he began helping you to rise, offering support and trying to alleviate the discomfort you had been enduring for the past few minutes. "Come here, sit on my lap," he said with a voice that conveyed tenderness and a genuine desire to make you feel better. He adjusted his position to ensure that you were comfortable and secure, his gaze fixed on you with a care that seemed to say more than words could express.

And that’s how you both finally managed to enjoy the lost time. You were comfortably seated on Alexis's lap, feeling the softness of his touches and the sincerity of his affection. Each tender kiss on your shoulder and each sweet word whispered in your ear seemed to fill the space between you with a renewed and profound intimacy.

As you settled into Alexis’ embrace, a new perspective began to emerge.

Maybe interrupting him at work from time to time wasn’t such a bad idea after all.