#there’s no way they wouldn’t be considered as such right?

[7s3ven]

SINGLE DAD! X BABYSITTER! READER HAS ME FROTHING OMGG. Even better when the rest of TF 141 is involved

part 1 | part 2 (coming soon - rest of tf 141 introduced)

master list

MDNI 18+

Warnings: big age gap, babysitter! reader, reader is in medical school (but still legal guys)

You told yourself it was just a temporary summer job, something to fill your pockets over the Summer break as you moved into another year of university. Medical bills were not easy to pay off and your old job that paid the bare minimum did not help you in the least. All it taught you was that you had a nasty uppercut (from the time you actually hit someone and got fired).

So, you found yourself standing in front of John Price’s house. You stared up at the tall building, brows raised in surprise. He had understated how big his house was… it even had a garden and a pool. You may as well consider it a mansion.

You quickly rang the doorbell, smoothening out your tight blouse. Your much more appropriate one was in the wash so you prayed whoever answered the door did not notice.

It was a tall middle-aged who greeted you, beard cleanly trimmed and… a hat on his head. “Y/N L/N?” He asked you. You swiftly nodded, softly smiling when he stepped aside.

“So, medical school, huh? Training to become a doctor?” He asks as he brews you a cup of tea while you read over his terms and conditions.

“A surgeon, sir. Not much better, though.” You offer him another smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Right. Next time I need surgery, I’ll call you up.” He takes a sip from your tea, which you notice but you say nothing. “Just checkin��� the temperature. Wouldn’t want ya to burn yourself.” He hands you the mug, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment too long.

“I assume this is only a quick job for you? Just away to gain a bit of money to pay those student fees off?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you nod. “Yes, sir. I know I should have clarified it but I’m a little desperate at this point. Besides, no retail places want to hire me… after I hit someone.”

Your words intrigued him. He let out a low chuckle as he sat across from you. “Now I’m interested.”

“Well… there’s not much to it… a guy kept staring at my chest. He said some vulgar stuff and next thing I knew, I was punching him.”

Price shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “The lad was askin’ for it. So, what do you think about the job? You’ll honestly be a glorified babysitter. Just do some cleaning and cookin’ here and there and make my baby happy and you’ll get a nice pay check every week.”

It all happened in a blur. You agreed to the job and weeks later, you found yourself at Price’s house more than your apartment. You hadn’t stepped foot into your apartment since two days ago, Price generously allowing you to use one of the guest rooms.

“Lila has a sleepover tomorrow.” Price mentions as you’re reading the instructions on how to make cookies for Lila’s bake sale.

Based on the cooking skills you had seen from Price, you doubted he could bake very well. In fact, all he could cook was steak, which was general knowledge for dads.

“I can drop her off if needed.” You offer while opening the packet of flour only for it to explode in your face. You smacked your lips together, grimacing. “Not a word.” You mutter to Price who’s chuckling under his breath.

“Wasn’t gon’ a say anything, love.” He helps wipe the flour dust off your face, still grinning in amusement.

In all honesty, your relationship with Price felt a little too domesticated, especially right now as you wore a frilly apron he had bought just for you.

“Your skirt’s too short, by the way.” Price grumbles, attempting to tug it down. “You sure no creeps stared at you on your way ‘ere? Wouldn’t want ya in danger.”

You push his hands away from your hips. “Even if people were staring, I’ll just punch them.”

You had tried to maintain a professional relationship with your boss but it was hard when he carelessly manhandled you and treated you like his wife rather than his daughter’s babysitter.

And all professional behaviour came crashing down when he unexpectedly stood behind you as you whisked the cookie batter.

“You look like a coke addict.” Price jokes, referring to the flour that still stained your face. “Like you got it everywhere but up your nose.”

“I can assure you, sir, I have never tried coke unless my friend daring me to snort sherbet counts.”

Price grins at your biting remark, his heavy hands falling to your waist. “Yeah? Heard it doesn’t feel too good with sherbet.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His hands trail dangerously low but you don’t have the courage to ask him to stop… nor do you really want him too. He seems to sense your willingness as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, body pressed up tightly against yours.

You feel more like his spoiled wife than a medical student just trying to pay her bills.

“You’re pretty, ya know that? Surprised you don’ have a boyfriend… or girlfriend. Or partner. Dunno what your label is.”

With shaking hands, you place the bowl filled with cookie batter to the side, afraid you’ll only spill it.

“Never met a woman as soft as you… most think I chased Lila’s mother away. But nah. Her mother ran off, leavin’ me with a baby. Not that I’m complaining, I love Lila… and without her, I wouldn’ have met you.”

You’re reduced to listening to Price’s words, stuck between his larger frame and the marbled kitchen counter.

“Sir.” You whisper but it reaches his keen ears. Everything after that is a distorted blur and you find yourself bent over the counter, clad in nothing but the apron, with Price right behind you.

Price was a mystery to you. How could a man be turned on by something as simple as an apron? Though, he was a single dad so it made sense.

Price is muttering praises in your ears as your knees tremble, threatening to buckle. You never imagined you’d be in your employer’s kitchen, having your back blown out by the man himself.

His hands were hungrily climbing your body, gripping every bit of exposed skin he could find. If it wasn’t for him holding you upright, you would have toppled to the ground in a heartbeat.

You feel Price lift a hand to grip your hair, tugging at your locks. He’s in a desperate stupor but you’re not any better, pushing back your hips to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Gon’ a fill ya up. Give you a baby of yer own. Fuck… be so pretty just like you. My perfect little wife.” He grunts in your ear. You have no energy to correct him; that you’re not actually his wife but you’d have no complaints if he bought you a ring.

If anything, his words spur you on more.

Your chest is heaving by the time you near your release. You’re whining like a damn dog, high pitched noises slipping past your saliva-slicked lips. And you only grow in volume as Price speeds up, pressing his body against your back.

He’s older than you, that’s a fact you knew from the start, but he’s definitely more experienced as well. His well thought out words have the desired effect on you as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Your fluids drip down your exposed legs, hitting the tiles kitchen ground in thick droplets. You hear Price swear under his breath, quickly pulling out and staining your back white.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Then he leads you towards his bathroom, ushering you inside and handing you a spare set of clothes.

“Imma place your old ones in the washing, yeah?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you to wash off.

You sit on the shower floor for a good five minutes, replaying the moment in your head. When you finally cleanse yourself of sweat, you slip Price’s shirt over your head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his cologne. It was the one you liked too.

His clothes engulfed you as you stumbled back into the kitchen, hobbling a little.

“I guess I’ll… get going then.” You murmur, fidgeting with your hands.

Price reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Then he nods. “See you tomorrow night, lovie.”

Right, you still had to finish those cookies and pick up your clothes.

[wonderjanga]

Where Have you Been?

This is inspired by this post.

Billy was having a rough day. Scratch that. A rough couple of months. Recently, he’s been… losing himself? He doesn’t know how to put it into words. It’s just that more he’s Marvel, the more he forgets about being Billy. In all honesty, it’s scaring him. What’s even worse is that, no matter what others think, he isn’t in control anymore, and Billy knows it. One moment, he’ll just be Billy Batson and then the next he’ll be Marvel with no recollection of even saying the word. Billy truly wished he hadn’t noticed the gaps in his memory getting bigger.

Speaking of memory gaps, Billy had a pretty big one to fill considering all he did was go to bed, and was then greeted with the misfortune of waking up on a random beach with the lower half of his body slightly wet from the tide. All he knows is that he’s not near Fawcett, let alone Iowa, because last he checked, it was a landlocked state. So, he got up, and decided to go find out where he was.

Billy: *wandering around while shaking any sand off himself, eventually spotting a flag* “Oh! I’m in… I still have no idea.”

Glasses Lady: *approaches him* “Por que você não está na escola?” (Translation: Why aren’t you in school?)

Billy: *frog blinks* “Huh?”

Billy was… pretty sure that was Spanish. So he’s probably still on earth. Maybe. After a little bit of back-and-forth, the Glasses Lady finally realized he couldn’t understand what Billy was only half sure was Spanish. In the end, she just started taking him around to find somebody who could speak English.

Glasses Lady: “¿Você fala inglês? Acho que este é o filho de um turista.” (Translation: Do you speak English? I think this is a tourist's son.)

Old Granny: “Não. Pobre garoto.” *leans down to pinch his cheek* (Translation: “No. Poor boy.)

Billy: *confused as to why this random old lady is pinching his cheek*

Eventually, after a while, they did find somebody who could speak English.

Billy: “Do you know where I am, miss?”

College Student: “You’re in Brazil.”

Billy: “Brazil??” *sounds super concerned* “Isn’t that in South America? I think?”

College Student: “It is. How did you even get here? Are you on vacation?”

Billy: “No? I just woke up here.” *wondering how he’s gonna explain this to Rosa*

College Student: “What?” *also now concerned because she thinks this child might’ve been a victim of trafficking*

Billy: “Uhm… you have like a map that you can show me?”

College Student: “I don’t think a map will help you, bud.”

Billy: *shrugs* “Theres always the chance it could, miss.”

College Student: “I guess?” *pulls up google maps*

Billy: *zooms out so he can just see the countries* “Oh okay. So not that far away.”

College Student: “You’re plenty far away what are you talking about? Also, why’re you sandy?” *wipes off some sand her phone*

Billy: *ignores both questions* “Do you know which way is north?”

College Student: “Uh… it should be that way.” *points in the direction*

Billy: “Oh thank you!” * is about to runoff, but looks back at the Glasses Lady* “And gracias?” *looks to the College Student* “That how you say it right?”

College Student: “No, that’s Spanish.” *shakes head* “It’s supposed to be obrigado.” (Translation: Thank you.)

Billy: “Oh, obrigado!” *definitely butchered the pronunciation and runs off to he north*

College Student: “Wait, come back!”

As soon as Billy was out of sight, he shazamed and flew in the direction she pointed in. Now, the boy wouldn’t admit this, but he actually flew slower than normal. He didn’t wanna think about the future confrontation with Rosa, not to mention his other family members. Was he prolonging the inevitable? Yes. Did he feel guilty? Also, yes. Did that mean he was gonna speed up though? …No.

Billy was just passing over Mexico when his JL comm started going off like crazy.

Marvel: *answers his comm*

Batman: “Marvel. Watchtower. Now.”

Marvel: “Huh? Why did I do something wrong?”

Batman: “You went AWOL for three weeks, and then the first sign we find that you’re alive is a video of you partying at a Mardi Gras parade in Brazil. I really wonder what you did wrong.”

Billy was straight speechless for a solid minute. Three weeks? Three weeks? The memory gap was way bigger than he thought.

Marvel: *trying to find words* “I- I’m gonna be honest I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He honestly felt like crying. Genuine, ugly, crying. Because now he knows it’s gotten to a point where he can’t shrug this off anymore. He could do one day. He could do two days. He’s even gone a week before. But three weeks? That’s nearly a month and he doesn’t remember anything. Billy was now being forced to acknowledged how big of a problem this was.

By now, he had stopped, still floating in mid air.

Batman: “Is that you confirming you were too intoxicated to reach out to us or-”

Marvel: “Mr. Batman Sir, I really can’t talk right now.” *can feel himself starting to hyperventilate* “I’ll come by later. I promise.”

Batman: “No, not later. Immediately. We all want a word with you.”

Marvel: *grimaces* “I’m sorry. I just really can’t right now. I’m really sorry.” *hangs up*

Billy just started hyperventilating after that. His chest felt tight, his world felt like it was one the brink of crashing down. He needed to go see the wizard. He needed help. The wizard could definitely help. So, he went to the rock.

Wizard: *sounds solemn* “I’m sorry, Billy.”

That was literally all the old man told him before he started talking about how the gods were starting to exert more of their influence on him. And he basically had no say, say in some of the things he would start to do from now on. Just when Billy’s life couldn’t get harder. Please, Gods, give him a break.

[levisjinchuriki]

kinks - jjk men

summary - the types of kinks the jjk men would have

warning - nsfw!, 18+, mentions of kinks, dacryphilia, exhibitionism, brat taming, praise kink, bondage, sensory depravation, impact play, domination, submission, overstimulation, edging, manhandling

satoru gojo - exhibitionism 

gojo thrives on the thrill of being caught. he’s always waiting for the perfect moment to whisk you away, excited by the thought of someone hearing your moans or walking in on him pleasuring you.

“think anyone would hear if you screamed my name?” 

in his car, parked somewhere secluded but not entirely hidden, his hands are on your waist as he helps you ride him. gojo watches your reactions, smirking at every gasp and moan you fail to keep in. he chuckles, loving how you’re unable to control yourself.

“think you can keep quiet?” 

if you’re out shopping, gojo will 100% join you in the dressing room. he’ll make you try on all your new outfits for him and somehow find a way to slip himself into you, testing if any article of clothing will be enough to stop him. they never do. 

gojo thrives on how responsive you are to him, and he’ll push just far enough to see how much you can handle. he loves watching you battle with the risk of being caught and the pleasure of the moment.

“it’s just us, baby. trust me. no one else matters right now”

if there’s a mirror nearby, he’ll angle you so you can see yourselves. he loves to watch your reactions, and loves to make you watch as he ruts into you. 

“look how gorgeous you are”'

---

suguru geto - brat taming and praising

geto will find the perfect balance between indulging your defiance and putting you in your place. he wouldn’t react immediately to your brattiness—instead, he’d let you dig your own grave, enjoying the playful battle before firmly asserting himself in a way that leaves no room for argument. 

his first warning is an unamused look. if you continue, he’ll stop what he’s doing and say your name, daring you to push further. 

when geto finally decides you’ve gone far enough, his switch into dominance is seamless. his voice lowers, tone firm but never raised—it’s the kind of control that makes you feel small in the best way possible. he doesn’t need to yell. his presence alone is enough to make you rethink your choices.

“keep going, sweetheart. let’s see how far you think you can push me before you regret it.” “come here” “you wanted my attention, didn’t you? now you have it”

when it’s time to punish you he won’t shy away from edging you. he’s merciless, keeping you on the brink of pleasure while reminding you that your brattiness has consequences. he’ll make you beg for his forgiveness before considering easing up his punishment. and he won’t stop until there’s tears brimming your eyes. 

“are you done acting out, or should i keep going?" “you want to cum? earn it”“say you’ll be good for me… louder.”

when he decides you’ve had enough he’ll go right into praising you, knowing you need that drastic change to calm down. 

"look at you, taking it all, making me so proud"

despite geto’s stern demeanor, he’s incredibly attentive afterward. he knows you’ll be in subspace from his actions and won’t hesitate to dote on you. he’ll gather you in his arms, holding you close as he murmurs soft reassurances while his hands soothe the areas he’s punished.

“you’re such a good girl for me now, aren’t you?”

---

nanami kento - bondage and sensory control

he’s known for his calm, composed, and somewhat reserved demeanor, and would have a kink rooted in control, care, and subtle dominance. while he is generally seen as a professional and disciplined individual, his kink would align with his serious nature and the need to maintain structure. 

he likes structure and order, and the idea of being able to ensure that everything is carefully planned is appealing to him. he wouldn’t push your limits too far, either. he’d make sure you safe, secure and fully in the moment with him at all times. it isn’t just about the physical act—it’s about trust, control, and connection. he thrives on the balance of power, but he’d always be conscious of the emotional intimacy involved. 

he’d enjoy using restraints—whether it be ropes, cuffs, or silk ties. the idea of binding you to a bed, to a chair, or in a way that limits your movement just enough to make you fully dependent on him would drive him wild. he wouldn’t rush; he’d take his time, carefully tying the restraints to make you feel safe, yet vulnerable.

he’d like to dig into sensory deprivation, as well. occasionally, he’ll blindfold you, taking away one of your senses to heighten the others. and he’d make sure to draw out your pleasure slowly. he’d tease and test your limits, taking his time to find out exactly what pushes you to the edge without bringing you over it. 

---

toji fushiguro - impact play and physical domination 

toji has a history of being ruthless. his kink would align with his dominant personality- something that taps into his need for control, intensity, and power. it would revolve around physical dominance, rough play, and impact play.

toji’s enjoys giving you some form of physical discipline or roughness during intimate moments. he’d enjoy the power dynamic of making his partner submit to him physically, but the kink wouldn’t be about cruelty—it’s about the adrenaline, the rush of power, and the vulnerability that comes with being physically overtaken.

toji wouldn’t be soft or delicate. he’d have a firm grip on you at all times. he’s so big compared to you and he’d use that to his advantage, making you know exactly who’s in control. he’d test your limits by spanking your ass and thighs before hitting you harder. his favorite part would be the way your body tenses when he delivers a slap, seeing you squirm under him.

he’d be aggressive in the way he holds you down and positions you. whether it’s pinning you against the mattress or simply making sure you don’t move unless he allows it, he’d make sure you feel his presence, both physically and emotionally.   

---

choso kamo - overstimulation

choso is purely devoted to you. he loves every little reaction you give him—the way your body shivers, the way his name falls from your lips in broken cries, and the way you arch and squirm beneath him. when he’s lost in the moment, he becomes single-minded, determined to make you feel so good you can’t think of anything but him.

the moment your first orgasm hits, choso’s focus sharpens. he doesn’t stop—not because he’s ignoring your pleas but because he’s addicted to seeing you unravel under his tongue. the way you writhe and gasp spurs him on. 

choso’s fingers are relentless, pressing against all the right spots as he watches your body arch involuntarily. he loves how sensitive you become, how your legs tremble as you fail to push him away.

his tongue flicks and swirls between your folds as your cries grow louder. he looks up at you, his pupils blown out. his lips are glistening as he sucks on your clit. when your hands tangle in his hair to pull him away, he groans against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

---

sukuna - manhandling

with sukuna, manhandling isn’t just a kink—it's a power dynamic, an intense display of dominance that plays on his control and strength. he thrives when he uses his strength to guide, overpower and sometimes overwhelm you. 

it all starts subtly. you're in the midst of a heated argument when you push a little too much in a moment of defiance. he grabs your wrist, firm enough that there’s no escaping. his gaze locks onto yours—dark, calculating, predatory. "what do you think you're doing, little one?" his voice is a dangerous growl, full of restrained power.

there's something in the way he handles you—so effortlessly, like he owns every inch of space between you both. it makes your heart skip a beat, and you find yourself shivering, not from fear, but from a strange, intense excitement. his dominance, the way he just takes control without hesitation, turns you on in a way you didn’t expect. the idea of being physically overpowered, the feeling of sukuna’s strength and control– it was dizzying

with a small, almost mocking chuckle, he pulls you closer, pinning you against him with an unyielding grip. "you like this?" he murmurs, low and dangerous.

at that moment, you realize that you do. you feel your body flush with warmth as his hands tighten around you, as if you're his to hold. there’s something about the way he manhandles you, not in anger but in control, that awakens something inside you—a kink you hadn’t known existed.

from that moment, sukuna makes it a point to test your boundaries. he watches for your reactions, noticing the way your body responds to his forceful movements. the way you try to escape, only to find yourself pulled back by his unrelenting strength, excites you even more. there’s no struggle for him; you can feel his power as he effortlessly dominates you in ways that leave you breathless. his strength is intoxicating, and you can’t help but melt into his grip, even when you try to resist.

his kisses aren’t tender; they’re demanding, taking what he wants from you as if he has every right to. when he speaks to you, his words are rough and commanding, never soft or sweet.

"did i tell you that you could move?" sukuna growls, his hands roughly positioning you how he wants. he’ll use his body weight, making sure you feel every inch of his dominance. the way he towers over you, his presence consuming, leaves you feeling small and at his mercy.

it’s not just about the physicality. it’s about the way he makes you feel—like he owns you. when he tosses you onto the bed, when he positions you how he wants, it’s as if he’s marking his territory, reminding you of just how much control he has over you.

a/n: thanks for reading <3 please send requests in my inbox!!

creds: @elryisia

[moonselune]

Bg3 companions and a reader who is ridiculously into them? like can't be around them without blushing, stuttering over words, etc.

Love your writing ♥️♥️♥️

ahhhhh thank you so much, this was a pleasure to write !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Breakfast in camp had become a small but daily ordeal. Sitting across from Karlach was as thrilling as it was nerve-wracking. She always looked so effortlessly radiant—her wide smile lighting up her face, her hair messy from sleep, and that laugh that came from deep within her chest. You, meanwhile, were a nervous mess, barely able to lift a spoon without fumbling it in her presence.

This morning, you were attempting to slice an apple while also trying to sneak glances at her, as usual. But, distracted as you were, you barely noticed when she caught you looking. She grinned, that flash of teeth making your heart skip about five beats.

“Hey, you want some?” she asked, holding out a plate piled high with a variety of fresh fruits. You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Uh—y-yes! I mean, no! I mean—” You fumbled for the right words, your voice a bit too loud in your panic. Karlach looked at you, mildly confused but amused.

“Alright then, you let me know if you change your mind,” she said, winking, before going back to her breakfast. The little wink nearly killed you on the spot, and you dropped your apple, which rolled dramatically across the table and plopped off the other side.

Wyll, sitting beside you, tried to hide a snicker behind his hand. He’d been noticing your flustered behavior around Karlach for days and had clearly reached his breaking point. As Karlach turned away, Wyll leaned in close to you, smirking.

“Oh, this is painful to watch,” he muttered, barely containing his laughter. “When are you going to do something about it?”

You gave him a quick, desperate glare, feeling the blood drain from your face.

“Do something?” you whispered, panic lacing your voice. “Wyll, I can’t even string a proper sentence together around her without sounding like a fool!”

Wyll rolled his eyes, still grinning.

“Trust me, I can see that,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But if you keep this up, it’s going to get unbearable for both of us. You’re absolutely lovesick, and she’s completely oblivious.”

“Lovesick?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice low but also scandalized by the word. “That’s… that’s not…”

Wyll arched an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that read, Really?

You sighed, knowing he was right. Every time Karlach entered the room, you either found an excuse to leave or wound up a blushing, stumbling mess. Just this morning, she’d brushed a crumb off your shoulder, and you had nearly collapsed on the spot.

Wyll laughed, patting you on the back a little harder than you would have liked. “Look, if you don’t do something soon, I will. Maybe I’ll tell her for you—‘oh, by the way, did you know you’ve got someone so smitten with you, they can’t even eat breakfast right?’”

Your eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow with challenge.

“Fine,” you whispered, heart racing at the thought of actually doing something about it. “What do I… say?”

Wyll shrugged, his expression softening a bit. “Just talk to her. Be honest. If there’s one thing Karlach respects, it’s bravery. And if there’s one thing she loves, it’s someone who cares as much as she does.”

But as you mulled it over, you looked across the table and saw Karlach laughing at something Astarion was saying, her eyes bright with amusement, her entire face aglow with the life and warmth she carried effortlessly. You swallowed, trying to imagine how you’d ever muster up the courage to tell her anything.

The rest of breakfast went by with your heart hammering and Wyll occasionally sending you smirking looks. You felt like you were on fire, thoughts racing as you considered his words.

Finally, as camp was beginning to break up and everyone was scattering to their daily tasks, you decided to follow Wyll’s advice. Taking a deep breath, you gathered every bit of courage you could find and made your way over to Karlach, who was busy folding up her bedroll. She looked up, surprised, as you approached.

“Oh, hey! Need something?” she asked, her grin warm as always.

You cleared your throat, feeling the words get caught. “I… um…”

Karlach tilted her head, watching you patiently. “Everything okay?”

And there it was, the opening. The chance to say something. Be brave, you reminded yourself. You took a deep breath and tried again.

“I just… wanted to say…” you stumbled, unable to look her in the eye. “I really… enjoy spending time with you.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a soft smile, her eyes studying your face, but still, she seemed blissfully unaware. “Well, good! Same here! You’re a lot of fun, you know. Brave in your own way, even if a bit shy,” she teased lightly, giving your arm a light squeeze.

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously, feeling your cheeks burn. Maybe Wyll had a point—Karlach appreciated bravery, and here you were, looking like a fool again. But as her hand lingered just a moment longer on your arm, you felt a surge of determination. This was only the beginning.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

You’d found Minthara’s sword on the outskirts of camp that morning, half-buried beneath some tangled roots. It was unmistakably hers—dark metal with a wicked curve, and elegant engravings tracing the hilt. You’d only seen her use it from afar, but even then, there was something mesmerizing about the way she wielded it, about the way her gaze sharpened whenever she held a blade. You were already a bundle of nerves at the thought of returning it to her, and that only got worse the closer you got to her tent.

She was sharpening a dagger when you approached, her expression focused, so much so that for a moment, you thought about turning back. But then she noticed you, her eyes snapping up to meet yours with a glint of curiosity.

“You’re looking rather… tense.” Her eyebrow arched slightly as she took you in.

Your heart thudded painfully, and you swallowed, forcing yourself to hold up the sword without dropping it. “Uh, I… found this for you. Your sword, I mean. It was… um, outside camp, and I thought you might want it back?”

Her gaze softened, a small smirk playing on her lips as she reached for the sword, her fingers brushing against yours. You nearly jumped at the contact, face burning, feeling like you might explode from embarrassment. You tried to say something else, but the words came out as a strangled squeak, and you practically forced yourself to look at the ground to avoid those piercing eyes of hers.

“Hmm,” she murmured, glancing over the sword, and then back at you. “Thank you. It's… refreshing to see someone with a sense of respect.” She held your gaze for a moment longer, and then, with an amused nod, she went back to her sharpening.

You quickly walked away, all but stumbling as you escaped, only to find yourself practically nose-to-nose with Shadowheart, who looked far too amused.

"Gods above," she snorted, crossing her arms. "I've never seen someone turn so red while returning a weapon."

You stammered, looking anywhere but at her. "I was just… trying to be polite!"

"Polite? If that's your version of polite, then I’d hate to see you actually try flirting," she teased, unable to hide her grin.

“Oh, please,” you huffed, looking away and trying to calm the blush still heating your face. “It's just… I don’t know. I like her, alright? Even if she’s… well, she could probably kill me without a second thought.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. "Good to know you’re aware. And yet you still act like a lovesick fool around her, it's almost like you want her to kill you."

“I would die happy!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up. “Minthara could do anything she wants to me—absolutely anything at all—and I’d thank her. She could stomp me into the dirt, call me a fool, hex me, curse me, make my life a living hell, and I'd still probably thank her with my last breath!”

Shadowheart laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You’re hopeless."

But you were too caught up in your rant. "I’d let her do anything—anything at all! She could make me fetch her supplies every morning, have me clean her sword every night, stand guard for her at dawn and dusk, and I’d still think it was the best thing to ever happen to me!”

"Ahem."

You froze, mid-rant, and turned slowly to find Minthara standing directly behind you. She looked deeply amused, one eyebrow raised, her eyes glittering with dark humor. Her smirk was even more wicked than usual, and her gaze held you captive as she stepped closer.

“Good to know,” she said, her voice smooth and cool, her smirk only growing. “I may have to test that loyalty sometime.”

She winked at you, and then, just as easily as she’d come, she turned and sauntered away, leaving you standing there completely speechless, your face redder than ever.

Shadowheart burst out laughing, clutching her side as she watched you sway in shock. “You really have a gift for making a fool of yourself, you know that?”

You sank to your knees, stunned, still processing that Minthara had heard every single word. Shadowheart’s laughter rang in your ears, but you were simply too dazed to care. Perhaps that death would come quicker than expected - if your own heart didn't give out first.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Every time Lae’zel looked your way, you felt like a live wire, a rush of heat filling your face. She seemed to command every space she entered, her presence sharp, unapologetic, and utterly captivating. But whenever you were around her, every sentence became a tangle of stammered nonsense, and all you could do was blush helplessly. Today was no different.

You were fumbling with your supplies near the fire when Lae’zel walked over, her gaze scrutinizing as always.

"You’ve been acting strange,” she declared, crossing her arms and eyeing you critically. “Weakness of any sort is unacceptable. Are you unwell?"

Her bluntness only made you more flustered, words tripping over each other as you tried to respond. "No, I… I mean, yes, but not in that way. I mean, I'm fine. Completely fine.”

Lae’zel’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “You are not fine. You stammer, you lose color and gain it again. See Halsin or Shadowheart—this weakness needs mending.”

Desperate to reassure her, you tried to explain further, but each attempt seemed to make it worse. “I’m not… it’s not that kind of weakness, I just—well, around you, I—uh…”

She fixed you with a glare, her frown deepening. "Enough. Your words make less sense with every second. Perhaps you’re more ill than you realize.”

Your cheeks burned as she turned sharply to fetch Halsin, all but barking his name across camp. He arrived quickly, taking in the scene with a look of amused understanding.

“She is in poor health,” she said, gesturing at you. “They are losing control over their words and show clear signs of a fever. You will attend to them.”

Halsin’s brows lifted slightly, and with a knowing look, he glanced from you to Lae’zel. He gave a slow, considering nod. “Yes, I believe I see the trouble. An ailment, certainly… though it appears to be more of the heart than of the body.”

Lae’zel scowled, gripping her weapon as if ready for battle. “Explain this ‘heart ailment.’ What creature has inflicted it upon them?”

Halsin chuckled softly. “They’ve been bitten by a lovebug, Lae’zel. That’s all.”

Lae'zel let out a string of sharp Gith curses, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "A lovebug. Where does it lurk, this creature? If it is preying upon our camp, I’ll hunt it down myself and crush it beneath my blade."

Her fierce determination, though absurd, only made your heart race more. Halsin stifled a laugh, giving you a sidelong look of utter amusement.

“I think you’ll find that hunting it will be… difficult,” he said, barely hiding his grin. “The lovebug often prefers stealth, hiding within feelings rather than form.”

“Feelings, a psychic offender,” she repeated, her brow creasing in thought. After a moment, she nodded decisively. “It is trickier prey, then. But I will find it nonetheless.”

And with that, she strode off, muttering to herself about unknown threats to the camp. As soon as she was out of earshot, Halsin let out a laugh, clapping you on the shoulder. “You know, I think you may have just made a miraculous recovery.”

You let out a groan, pressing a hand to your flushed face. “Do you think she’ll ever realize?”

“Not any time soon, I’d wager,” he chuckled. “But watching her hunt for a creature that doesn’t exist… that’s something we’ll all enjoy.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart’s approach had been so unassuming, yet it immediately set your heart racing. You’d been minding your own business by the campfire, trying not to glance her way too much, when she’d walked over, looking perfectly calm and utterly oblivious to the effect she had on you. She needed help with a spell—one that apparently you could explain better than anyone else at camp. You tried to play it cool, managing a quick, slightly-too-high “Sure!” and hoping your pulse wasn’t visibly hammering in your throat.

Standing beside her, you began explaining the spell, hands trembling ever so slightly as you demonstrated the incantation.

“So…uh…you’ll want to focus your energy here, at the core…” you muttered, gesturing to the focus stone. You held it out for her to see, only to have her fingers brush yours, sending a jolt through you that nearly made you drop the thing.

“Like this?” Shadowheart asked, her gaze flicking up to meet yours. Her dark eyes held that same thoughtful curiosity, and your voice caught in your throat. It was hard enough trying to form sentences with her this close, let alone explain a complex spell.

“Y-yes. Like that,” you managed, each word coming out slightly unsteady. “And, uh, then you just…channel it gently, but with intention.” She tilted her head, leaning closer, following along with perfect focus.

Meanwhile, just behind her, Karlach was all but dying, barely containing her laughter as she watched you fumble. Her amusement was clearly at your expense, and it took every ounce of willpower not to glare at her. Your attention drifted back to Shadowheart just as she turned her attention to the final gesture of the spell.

Her hand rested over yours for a second too long, her voice soft as she asked, “Does this look right?”

You nodded dumbly, your brain too overloaded to form a coherent reply, and somehow muttered, “It’s, uh…very…graceful.” Internally, you cringed. Graceful?

Shadowheart, apparently too engrossed in the spell to notice your red cheeks, gave a small, content nod. She released your hand, oblivious to the way you quickly hid your trembling fingers.

“Thank you,” she said with a rare smile, her voice calm and warm. “I think I understand it now.”

She turned to leave, casting one last glance over her shoulder, which made you feel simultaneously light-headed and weak in the knees. You stared after her, still processing, trying to shake off the ridiculous butterflies. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until she was already out of earshot.

The second she was gone, Karlach burst out laughing, dropping her head back in utter delight.

“Gods! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were spellbound yourself,” she teased, unable to wipe the grin off her face. “That was one of the best things I’ve ever seen. Hopeless,” she declared, shaking her head at you with a mischievous gleam.

Heat flooded your face all over again as you groaned, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I know, okay? It’s…utterly hopeless,” you admitted, voice thick with defeat. Before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed her mug of beer straight from her hand and downed it in a few quick gulps, hoping it would somehow wash away the mortification you felt. Setting the empty mug down, you sighed deeply. “She didn’t even notice anything.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re very, very wrong,” Karlach countered, her smile twisting into something sly and secretive. She crossed her arms, leaning in as if sharing a precious secret. “Because she was definitely checking you out while you were showing her that spell.”

You froze, turning slowly to look at her, heart skipping a beat.

“You’re joking,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper. There was a spark of hope, ridiculous but undeniable, blooming somewhere deep in your chest.

Karlach grinned wider, shaking her head. “Oh, no. She was stealing glances at you the entire time,” she said, sounding far too pleased with herself. “She’d peek up at you just when you weren’t looking, trying to act all serious, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. You might be as oblivious, but I’ve got eyes.” She winked, patting your shoulder in encouragement.

Your mind raced, playing the whole interaction back. You remembered how Shadowheart’s gaze had lingered, her voice soft, her questions coming slower, almost careful… Could Karlach really be right? Was it possible that Shadowheart had actually been…interested?

“Maybe there’s hope after all…” you mumbled, feeling that glimmer of excitement grow.

Karlach clapped you on the back with a laugh, nearly knocking the air out of you. “There you go! Just keep stuttering and blushing—seems to be working like a charm.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Guess I’ll just have to keep embarrassing myself, then,” you said, grinning despite yourself.

Karlach’s laughter echoed across the camp, but her eyes held a genuine warmth as she said, “Well at least it’s a start. You’ll get there.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira's gaze was focused, unrelenting as she adjusted your grip on the scimitar. Her hands, warm and confident, guided yours over the hilt, showing you the correct angle, the precise strength you should use. Every time her hand brushed yours, you felt your heart stammer. You hoped she didn’t notice your flushed cheeks or the way your breath caught every time she leaned closer.

“Here,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. She moved to your side, adjusting the angle of your stance with the barest brush of her hand along your back. “It’s not about brute force,” she murmured, her voice so close it felt like a whisper. “It’s about control, understanding where the balance lies in every movement.”

You nodded, barely able to find your voice, managing only a stuttered, “Y-yes, of course.” But you were far more focused on her proximity than any of her advice.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Astarion lounging a few paces away, arms crossed and a devilish grin spreading across his face. He had noticed, of course—there was no hiding it from his all-too-keen gaze. Before you could silently beg him to go easy on you, he stepped closer, feigning a helpful tone.

“Stick your rear out more,” he suggested, his voice laced with amusement. “Helps with balance. And I’m sure Jaheira would agree.” He flashed you a wicked grin, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Your face flamed, and you shot him a withering look.

“Thanks, Astarion,” you muttered under your breath, attempting to ignore him. But his smirk only widened, and he continued to watch, pleased with himself.

Jaheira, still adjusting your stance, gave you a quick nod, oblivious to your flustered state and Astarion’s antics.

“There you go,” she said, stepping back just enough to observe your form. “Much better.” She gave a satisfied nod and went on to demonstrate a quick series of strikes, her movements fluid and sure, each slash a picture of precision and elegance.

You could barely pay attention, completely distracted by the grace with which she wielded her weapon, the easy strength in her every move. As she looked back at you, catching you gawking, you fumbled to regain focus.

“Uh—yes! Right, like that!” you stammered, hurriedly attempting to mimic her motions.

Jaheira gave a small, amused smile before nodding approvingly. “Keep practicing that sequence. It’ll help build your control.”

As she left the clearing, giving you one last nod of encouragement, you could hardly breathe. You waited until she was out of sight before collapsing against Astarion, running a hand through your hair with a groan.

“I’m hopeless,” you muttered, shaking your head. “She probably thinks I’m a complete mess.”

“Oh, she definitely does,” Astarion said, his grin impossibly smug as he gave you a playful shove. “But she won’t have to wonder about it for long.”

You shot him a look, eyebrow raised in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

Astarion’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I may have left your journal in her tent. You know, the one with the little poems in the margins?” He waggled his eyebrows, feigning innocence.

Your eyes went wide, horror settling over you as you gaped at him.

“You didn’t,” you whispered, dread turning your stomach. The journal held every embarrassing thought, every scribbled confession, every starry-eyed rant about Jaheira that you hadn’t dared speak aloud.

“Oh, but I did.” Astarion’s voice was light, mocking even, but his eyes held a teasing warmth. “Look on the bright side. At least now she’ll know how much you ‘admire her scimitar technique.’ among other things..”

You shrieked in exasperation, though a traitorous part of you couldn’t help but feel the faintest spark of excitement at the idea. You shoved Astarion, who merely laughed, delighted with himself, as you stood there in helpless anticipation, wondering how you’d ever face Jaheira again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Trying to stay composed around Gale was becoming increasingly impossible. You could barely string together a coherent sentence whenever he was nearby, your cheeks burning and your heart racing so loudly you were sure he could hear it. It had gotten to the point that, during one of his magic lessons, you’d accidentally projected a very vivid thought about kissing him far into the Weave—and while he hadn’t directly addressed it, you had felt your face go scarlet the moment it happened.

Yet, despite that blunder and all your clumsy attempts to communicate the depths of your affection, Gale remained completely oblivious. And this state of suspended longing, this fruitless crush, was starting to drive you mad.

After another awkward lesson with Gale where you stumbled over your words and blushed at the mere brush of his hand over yours, you found yourself venting to Minthara, though you knew her to be an unlikely confidante. Her eyes held little sympathy, her arms crossed as she gave you a hard, skeptical look.

“Just grab the wizard and use him for your pleasure,” she suggested bluntly, as if it were the obvious solution. Her gaze was sharp and impatient. “You’re a warrior, not a blubbering fool.”

You shook your head quickly, horrified. “No, no, it’s not like that! I don’t just want him in some shallow way.” You sighed, your heart feeling tight. “I want to… to adore him. To look after him. To treasure everything about him, every small thing, every story he tells and every spell he casts. I want to worship him like he deserves.” You leaned into your words, almost forgetting who you were talking to in the rapture of your lovesick confession. “I want to make him feel like he’s the most cherished person in the world.”

Minthara recoiled as if you’d offended her sensibilities with such sentimentality, looking visibly revolted by your romantic ramblings. Her lips curled in distaste.

“By the darkness, are you even listening to yourself?” She gave an exasperated huff, then, with a roll of her eyes, she called across the camp, her voice clear as a bell. “Wizard!” she yelled, her tone commanding and fierce. “They want to go on their knees for you—are you going to do something about it, or will I have to rip out their tongue to stop their endless lovesick whining?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and before you could process the horror, Gale turned, an expression of curiosity mixed with surprise crossing his face as he started to walk over. You immediately whacked Minthara on the arm, panic rising as you whispered, “What are you doing?!”

Minthara looked at you with a smug indifference, ignoring your frantic scolding as if she’d done you the greatest favor.

“A strange way to show your gratitude,” she remarked drily, “given how much assistance I just rendered.”

By then, Gale had reached you both, his brows lifted in confusion, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“What’s all this about… someone going on their knees?” he asked, looking between you and Minthara, though his gaze lingered on you. His voice was gentle, though you could see the glimmer of curiosity—and something else—in his eyes.

You shot Minthara a glare, your face flaming, then took a steadying breath, turning to Gale.

“I—um,” you stammered, realizing there was no dignified way to explain this away. “I think… what Minthara was so eloquently trying to say is that I… might, uh, harbor feelings for you.” You paused, swallowing. “Quite a few of them, actually.”

Gale’s face softened, and a warm smile played at his lips, his hand reaching to touch yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice dipping low, “it’s wonderful to know I’m not the only one who’s felt that spark.”

Minthara turned away, clearly satisfied, muttering something about lesser beings and their foolish emotions, but you hardly noticed her departure as your heart beat out of your touch, your greatest fantasies finally coming true.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

Dinner had been an ordeal. Astarion sat beside you, closer than usual, his presence a tangible, almost overwhelming warmth. Every time he reached for something or murmured a comment, you felt yourself freeze, stumbling over your responses, blushing so furiously you’d started to worry it was noticeable. You could barely bring yourself to eat, much less speak, and by the end of the meal, you were sure you’d only embarrassed yourself.

That might have been manageable if it ended there. But just hours later, as the party approached a fortress with heavy guards stationed at the gates, Astarion took the lead, slipping into his charming, roguish element. He approached the security with a smooth, confident swagger, flashing that insouciant smile of his, every word a practiced melody of flattery and wit. He left them captivated, helpless to deny him as he led the party in with ease, his charm so intoxicating it almost felt like magic.

And while the others chuckled at his skillful maneuvering, you felt an unexpected ache in your chest. Watching him sway them so effortlessly stirred a pang of jealousy you hadn’t expected. Did he even notice the way you pined for him? The way every stray touch or knowing look from him seemed to linger long after he’d moved on?

Caught in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Gale was watching you with a raised brow. He leaned over, studying your expression with mild amusement and maybe a bit of pity.

“You look,” he began in a soft murmur, “like someone just killed a displacer kitten right in front of you.”

Startled, you forced a tight smile, trying to wave him off. “It’s nothing, Gale.”

“Nothing?” He crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Please, you’ve been fawning over Astarion for ages now, your heart practically on display.”

There was a pause as you grappled with the admission, your face heating up, but at last, the dam broke, and you began to pour out your feelings in a quiet, hushed ramble.

“It’s just… my heart beats for him, Gale. Every time he speaks, I hang on his every word. I want nothing more than to just reach over, brush his hair back, and listen to him talk about all his little grievances—his so-called ‘inconveniences,’ his charms, all of it.”

Gale nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. And then his lips curled into a wry smile as he leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, I suppose your dilemma is solved, then.”

Confused, you blinked, feeling a twist of dread. “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” he said, chuckling, “just that you happened to be projecting that over the tadpole connection. Quite eloquently, I might add. The entire party heard every word by my predictions.”

You froze, horror dawning as you processed what Gale had just said. Every word, you realized, echoing faintly through the magical thread you shared. You dared a glance at the others, only to see Karlach giving you an encouraging thumbs-up and Shadowheart hiding a smirk behind her hand.

Then, to your ultimate mortification, Astarion strolled past, pausing just long enough to catch your eye. A sly grin played on his lips as he gave you a long, lingering look, his gaze glinting with amusement.

“Not to worry, darling,” he murmured, a teasing warmth in his voice, “I have plenty of inconveniences—and a few conveniences—to tell you all about. Shall we start tonight?”

His words sent a rush of heat up your spine, leaving you speechless as he gave a little wave, disappearing down the hallway. Gale patted your shoulder with a grin.

“See?” he said cheerfully. “All handled.”

You were left rooted to the spot, barely able to breathe, knowing that somehow you’d been caught, exposed—and that Astarion was, indeed, fully aware of the fact that your heart belonged to him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll’s presence seemed to have a gravitational pull all its own. Every time he smiled at you, every chivalrous gesture—offering his hand to help you up a steep path, or casually brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face—felt like a dream. A warmth filled your chest, so intense you could hardly look him in the eye, your words dissolving into stammered half-thoughts that trailed into silence. Each interaction left you breathless, embarrassed, and wondering if maybe, just maybe, he noticed how flustered he made you.

Training, however, was another story. Lae’zel was as intense as ever, barely giving you time to catch your breath between strikes. She was quick, sharp, and relentless, and it would have been more manageable—if you could actually focus. But each time she demanded your attention, your eyes kept wandering back to Wyll, who was a few feet away, talking to Shadowheart as he polished his sword. The way he moved, the way he spoke, that disarmingly warm smile…

It was only a matter of time before Lae'zel had enough.

She stepped back, arms crossed, leveling you with a look that could freeze lava.

“You’re distracted. Useless,” she declared, throwing down her sword with an exasperated sigh. “You pine like a hatchling, and it disrupts our sparring.”

You flushed, scrambling to come up with an excuse, but Lae’zel was already stomping off toward Wyll. You moved to intercept her, knowing she was the absolute last person who should reveal any of this. “Wait—Lae’zel, don’t!”

Lae’zel ignored you, her voice booming as she closed in on a bewildered Wyll.

“You,” she pointed at him, “this one wants to share their body with you.”

Wyll blinked, his eyes widening as he looked between you and Lae’zel, clearly trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

“I—what?” He looked at you, a blush rising to his cheeks as he fumbled for words. “I mean, I didn’t—wasn’t aware—”

Mortified, you didn’t think, you just acted, flinging yourself at Lae’zel with a force you hadn’t known you possessed. You tackled her to the ground, landing with a clumsy thud, and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Not…what I meant!” you stammered, trying to laugh it off to Wyll, who was still looking down at the both of you in complete bafflement. “What she means is—uh, we’re just, um, sparring partners! She’s…dramatic.”

Lae’zel raised an eyebrow, and with her typical stoicism, she bit down—hard—on the hand you’d used to cover her mouth. You yelped, jerking your hand back, and Lae’zel smirked, a silent satisfaction in her gaze as she sat up, looking entirely unapologetic.

Wyll was still staring, one eyebrow raised, lips quirking slightly in what looked like a restrained grin.

“I’m… not entirely sure I understand what’s going on here,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “But whatever it is, I’m flattered.”

You scrambled to your feet, rubbing your bitten hand, and tried to put together a coherent explanation, but every time you met his gaze, words seemed to fail you.

“Well… right,” you mumbled, feeling heat rise to your face as you threw a quick glare at Lae’zel, who simply shrugged, as if completely innocent of any wrongdoing.

Wyll’s expression softened as he watched you struggle to speak, and he smiled gently.

“It’s alright,” he said, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you and Lae'zel.”

That simple gesture—his kindness, the warmth in his voice—made you feel as if you’d forgotten how to breathe. You managed a nod, barely holding onto your composure, while he looked at you with that disarming sincerity that always left you reeling.

Lae’zel, watching the exchange with an air of smug victory, dusted herself off. “There. See? Problem solved. Now maybe you’ll stop sparring like a weakling.”

You shot her a glare, but Wyll chuckled softly, meeting your eyes with a spark of curiosity.

“If you ever want to train together,” he said, his voice low and warm, “you need only ask.”

And with that, he gave you a wink, leaving you in a breathless, heart-pounding daze as he walked back to his gear.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Every time you were around Halsin, it was like the ground slipped out from beneath you. His voice, that low, warm rumble, made your heart pound, and every casual touch seemed to ignite sparks across your skin. He was utterly unaware, of course; his gentle smiles and steady hands never betrayed a hint of understanding that he sent you reeling. You were sure that was the only reason you hadn’t completely given yourself away.

So when you returned to camp with an injury—a jagged cut on your arm from a goblin's arrow—you hoped it might go unnoticed. Shadowheart was busy, deep in her meditation as she restored her energy, and you thought you could handle the wound alone. But Jaheira spotted the blood trailing down your arm almost immediately. She arched a brow, her eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and amusement as she approached.

“Let’s have a look,” she said, but as she examined your arm, she shook her head with a soft sigh. “This needs a proper healer. Come on.”

Before you could protest, she’d already begun steering you toward Halsin’s corner of camp. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and a familiar warmth crept up your face. “Jaheira, no, really, I’m fine. It’s not even that deep. You could probably just—”

“Are you afraid of a little attention from the First Druid?” she teased, smirking as you stammered. “If you’re so sure you can handle it alone, why is your face turning as red as a blood hawk?”

You barely managed a protest before she’d called out to Halsin, who looked up from his work, his eyes sharpening with concern the moment he saw the blood seeping through your sleeve.

“Come here,” he said, his voice a blend of calm authority and quiet worry. He rose to meet you, his eyes never leaving the wound as he reached out, guiding you to sit down on a low stool beside him. His hands were warm, gentle but firm, and you felt heat flush up your neck and into your cheeks as he examined the wound.

Jaheira, leaning against a tent post with her arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with an amused glint in her eyes, a smile curving her lips as you struggled to steady your breathing. But Halsin didn’t notice; his focus was fully on your arm, his brow furrowed with concentration as his fingers brushed softly along the edges of the wound, checking its depth.

“It isn’t too deep,” he murmured in his gentle, rumbling voice. “But we don’t want to risk infection. I’ll clean it and make a poultice to help it heal.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the feeling of his hands—steady, reassuring, and just a little too close—sent your mind reeling. “Y-yes, of course. Whatever you think is best.”

Halsin gave you a soft smile, the kind that seemed to reach into your chest and make your heart skip.

“Are you feeling alright otherwise? You look a bit flushed.” His eyes studied your face, brow creased in genuine concern. “Are you feverish?”

You blinked, thrown off by the question, and felt your face grow impossibly hotter. “No! No, not at all. I’m… I’m perfectly fine. Really. Just, um… It’s just… the wound.”

Jaheira couldn’t contain her amusement any longer; she snorted softly and rolled her eyes, muttering, “It’s certainly not the wound that has you blushing.”

You shot her a quick, desperate glare, but she only smirked, clearly enjoying your struggle.

“A shame that our healer here clearly can’t see that particular ailment,” she added, just loud enough for you to hear.

Halsin looked between you and Jaheira, a slight confusion flickering in his eyes before he turned back to you with a gentle, almost affectionate smile. “Well, you should rest nonetheless. Even a small wound can bring on a fever if not treated with care.”

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his thumb tracing light circles just above your collarbone as if to soothe you. It was a simple, instinctive gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth through you, and you fought the urge to lean into his touch, to linger in the quiet strength he offered.

“Let me just…” His voice was soft, his attention focused on preparing the poultice as he worked with deft hands. But every so often, he’d glance up, catching your gaze with that calm, reassuring smile that made your heart race all over again.

Beside you, Jaheira leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He truly has no idea, does he?”

You felt a flicker of panic, but there was no use hiding it now. You muttered, barely audible, “Not the faintest clue.”

She chuckled, shaking her head with a mix of sympathy and sarcasm. “To be fair, you’re not making it particularly obvious.”

Before you could retort, Halsin returned with the poultice, carefully applying it to your wound with practiced gentleness. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin, his hands steady and warm, sent another wave of nervous energy through you. He worked in silence for a moment, his gaze focused, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

“There,” he said softly, finishing the bandage. “That should hold for now. And I’ll make more of the poultice tonight to ensure it heals properly.”

You managed a shaky nod, trying to form words but only managing a faint, “Th-thank you.”

Halsin’s smile deepened, and he placed a final, reassuring hand on your arm. “It’s my pleasure to help. But if you do start feeling feverish, promise you’ll come to me immediately.”

“Yes. Of course,” you stammered, hardly able to meet his gaze. Jaheira watched you, her smile widening as she shook her head in mock exasperation.

“I think it’s safe to say you’re sick with something,” she muttered, just loud enough for Halsin to hear.

Halsin’s brow furrowed in mild concern, and he tilted his head toward her, curious. “Sick with what, precisely?”

You shot Jaheira a desperate look, but she only shrugged, that teasing glint in her eye.

“Nothing a nice cold dip in the river can't fix.,” she said, her voice laced with amusement as she turned to walk away, leaving you to face Halsin’s warm, questioning gaze.

“If you’re certain you’re well…” he said, his thumb brushing lightly along your hand in a final gesture of reassurance before he let go. “But do take it easy tonight. I’ll check in on you later, just to be sure.”

As he stood and walked away, you sat there, still reeling, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. You wanted to stay in that moment forever. Perhaps during his check in later, you would actually do something about it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was actually so cute to write aha, I hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

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[le16erc]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 ✩ 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 <𝟑

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐡𝐡𝐡, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐢𝐠

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐍𝐍𝐍𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐔

• 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 <𝟑

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐜: 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝’𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝟐𝟏 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐞/𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐳 .........................................................................................

getting served in the middle of an empty mclaren garage was something oscar couldn’t have imagined in his filthiest fantasies, or even comprehend as he watched it happen firsthand.

“fuckkkk, baby.” he groaned, pushing her head down further on his aching length. she’d been teasing him the entire afternoon, placing a lingering touch all to close to his waistband in front of an interviewer, or hiking her sundress up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her panties. he’d had enough at that point, grabbing her hand and leading her to the now empty and free-of-nosy-interviewers room. the sun was now lowering, casting golden beams into the open garage as the night reared its head towards vegas, promising the city those deep, dark hues adorned by planes and stars. the troublesome city always roared alive at this hour, the crowds of irresponsible youths and married men alike flocking to the sinful secret escapades lurking in clubs and alleyways.

“gonna win for me, osc? i wanna see you soaked in champagne.” she had smiled prettily, earlier embarrassing oscar in front of an interviewer. he’d clenched his fists and promised to himself that he’d fuck that little smirk off of her face soon enough.

“you wanna act like a filthy little slut, hmm? well, guess what, my love? you’re gonna get fucked like one.” he groaned, eyes trained on the way his entire dick disappeared between her lips. he wanted to caress her, applaud her for just how good she was being for him. but he knew better, and he could tell that his girl had been in a state to be absolutely destroyed for too long. after all, who was he to deny her the thing she so desperately sought after?

her muffled cries were lost against his cock, her watering lashes batting up at him for mercy. bucking into the warmth of her wet mouth thoughtlessly, he could feel himself hitting the back of her throat. oscar could swear that she was simply meant for him, sent from the divine above to satisfy his every desire for something to devote himself to entirely. being rough was one thing, but he was obsessed with slut-shaming the very girl he had corrupted himself.

no words were needed, the way she worked her tongue around him was more than enough. bobbing her head up and down, she raised her manicured hands to work whatever she couldn’t fit in her mouth. after allowing a whimper to spill from his lips at the feeling of her caressing the rest of him, oscar pulled her hair to observe her drooling mouth around him. he began smirking at the thought of what her parents would think. their only daughter, eagerly swallowing her boyfriend’s entire dick down her throat, in a garage open for anyone to see. surely, they’d disown her for the debauchery. his thoughts were rudely interrupted by her gags, her throat closing up around his cock and squeezing him like a vice. oh, he wouldn’t have any of this tonight. not after the hell of a day she’d given him with all the teasing and touching.

“fucking take it. god, you’re pathetic. can’t even take it all. if you’re gonna pull this shit, i swear to god i’ll walk out.” he spat, glaring down at his girl with hooded eyes. he’d trained her throat, he had been privileged enough to be her first and know that she could do better. it was an empty threat, either way. her mouth felt far too good for oscar to even consider pulling out right now. he continued rolling his hips to meet her throat, ruthlessly fucking her throat raw.

“your boyfriend’s a future world champion, baby. fucking suck like i am.” he grunted, forcing her head to go all the way to his base, where he sheathed himself deeper into the shelter of her mouth. the hungry hums from between her lips sent vibrations through his entire body, sending him into a deathly pleasant warmth. oscar slapped her cheek harshly, a groan leaving him as he felt his own thumb expertly pressing down on the bulge adorning her mouth. “gonna cum, baby. swallow it all for me.” he huffed, his mouth going slack as his eyebrows scrunched together. this was bliss for him, his eyes going blurry as he felt the warmth of his impending orgasm.

the cord finally snapped within the deepest depths of him, a thrilling rush pooling at his belly. oscar came with a loud groan, his most gutteral and vocal moment out of bed. pulling out of the sanctuary that was her mouth, he came all over her face. oscar watched as his cock leaked all over her lashes and cheeks, spilling his hot release on her made up face. the mascara running was his sign that he’d completely used her up, sparing no kindness to his beloved girlfriend. admittedly, this was the best possible pre-race gift she could have given him.

“aww, look at you, my girl. just soaked, aren’t you? well, that’s ok. that’ll make two of us soon enough.” he smiled down at her, watching his load drip from her cheeks down to her chest. at her innocent smile up at him, he realized that from then on, vegas was theirs. championship and all.

……………………………………………………………………………

i cannot just chill mark my words oscar is gonna be a wdc-

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

P.S. Do You Still Love Me Pt2

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Pt1

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

Body Paragraph: I made a mistake.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

No matter how much time passed from you and Jisung's breakup, you weren't able to shake the immense amount of affection and love you still had for him. Maybe it was because three months was barely enough time to even begin considering moving on, or maybe it was because you knew deep down that you might never fully move on. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from watching his lives, his promotions, his every appearance. Each time, it was impossible to ignore just how sad he looked.

The way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes anymore- how his usual spark seemed dimmer. Even the fans noticed. The comments under his videos were filled with concern: "Jisung, are you okay? You've lost weight…" and "Stay strong, Han, we’re here for you!" It made your heart ache. You knew that expression on his face, the one that tried so hard to look okay but didn’t quite make it. You could see through the mask, and it only made you miss him more.

With a heavy sigh, you sank back into the cushions of your sofa, staring at your phone's screen when a notification popped up, making you jolt.

Kyungsoo. A colleague and friend.

You swallowed hard, feeling the guilt settle like a heavy weight in your chest as you opened the message. After your breakup you had gone out with him to a few dinners- and those were not considered dates at all by you considering they were company events. But even so you felt weird hanging out with another man; and although your friendship was extremley strong- the year you spent with Jisung you decided not to focus on it as much to show respect to Jisung. And now that you were "free" as Kyungsoo put it, things felt different and the thought unsettled you.

Kyungsoo: Y/N, you need to go out tonight. Meet me at 7.

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate his efforts; you just weren’t sure you had the energy to plaster on a smile and pretend that everything was okay. But your hubae was persistent, and you knew he wouldn’t take "no" for an answer.

You: I don't know if I'm up for it.

His reply was almost immediate.

Kyungsoo: You need this, trust me. I’ll be there with you the whole time. Please, just come.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Maybe he was right. Maybe a distraction was exactly what you needed to stop yourself from spiraling even deeper.

You: Okay. See you at 7.

Setting your phone aside, you let out a long breath, your heart still heavy. You had to do this. For yourself. Maybe even for Jisung- because if he was moving on, then maybe, just maybe, you needed to try too.

It wasn’t about forgetting him. It was about surviving without him.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, feeling that familiar pang of uncertainty creep up. The same old doubts returned, and for a moment, you almost wanted to cancel. But Kyungsoo’s message echoed in your mind: “You need this.”

You shook your head, brushing off the weight of it. You could do this. It wasn’t about moving on completely but about taking small steps forward.

At exactly 6:57 PM, your doorbell rang.

You grabbed your jacket quickly, heading towards the door. When you opened it, Kyungsoo was standing there, holding a small bag of snacks in his hand, his usual smile soft but genuine.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice full of concern but laced with warmth. He placed the snacks on your table by the door and gestured to them, just to make sure you knew they were for you for later.

You gave a small nod, trying to hide the unease that still lingered in your chest. "Yeah, let's go."

He didn't waste any time, leading you down the hallway, his presence a calming force that eased the tension you hadn't even realized was building. The walk to the car was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Kyungsoo didn’t push you to talk, and somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

As you settled into the passenger seat of his car, he shot you a glance before pulling away from the curb. "I know this isn't easy for you, but I want you to remember that you don’t have to be okay right now. Just take it one step at a time, alright?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a flicker of relief wash over you at his words. He had always been the kind of friend who didn’t force anything on you, but when he spoke, it felt like he always knew exactly what you needed to hear. The car ride passed quickly, filled with light chatter that made the time slip by unnoticed. Kyungsoo was good at distracting you.

When you arrived at the cafe, it wasn’t as crowded as usual, just a few people scattered here and there. He parked and turned to face you. "Let's grab some coffee. Everything on me tonight."

As you stepped out of the car, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the background music. You weren’t sure what all Kyungsoo had planned, but the quiet vibe of the place felt comforting- almost like a shield against the memories of Jisung that lingered in the back of your mind.

He led you inside, ordering your usual without asking, and you couldn't help but smile at how well he knew you. He handed you the warm cup of coffee, the steam rising and soothing the cold air around you.

You took a sip, expecting your favorite drink to wash a nice feeling over you but instead you found yourself wincing at the flavor.

It's bitter...

"Jagiyaaaa, try this! I know it might be sweet but doesn't that make it just like me?" Jisung wiggled his brows at you. "Its no fun to drink bitter stuff all the time try this its called- a caramel mocha latte! Its warm and delicous." He held his cup out to you and you took a sip.

"Mm. It sweet. And very warm...it is just like you Oppa~"

"Ah...I'm old enough to be your Oppa? No, No, No. Don't remind me. Seungmin will call me old if he hears you say that..."

"Seonbae?" You looked at Kyungsoo who was looking at you adamantly.

He's younger than Ji...

"Hm?"

"I said I think we both needed this, but the real fun part comes later."

You raised an eyebrow, slightly curious but still cautious. "What do you mean?"

Kyungsoo’s grin widened, and with that, he pulled out two tickets from his jacket pocket. "Karaoke. We're going to sing our hearts out. You can thank me later." He said with a wink. For a second, you were taken aback. You hadn’t sung in front of anyone ever, really. Just Jisung and and Seungmin by accident once. But Kyungsoo’s determination was contagious. He handed you a ticket, his expression turning serious, if only for a moment. "You’ll feel better, I promise."

You hesitated, the inner turmoil warring with the quiet anticipation of trying something new. After a beat, you nodded. "Okay."

The sound of music and laughter spilled from the karaoke bar as you arrived, and it sent a small jolt of nervousness through you.

The room he had rented was intimate, just the two of you. Kyungsoo picked the first song, and to your surprise, he chose something lighthearted, an upbeat tune that had your foot tapping before the first note had even finished.

He handed you the microphone, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Your turn."

You looked at him, and despite everything, despite the ache that still lingered, you smiled- just a little. "You’re lucky you’re my friend, Kyungsoo." As you sang, you felt the tension begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of freedom that was slowly returning.

It wasn’t about forgetting Jisung. It was about remembering that you still deserved to smile, to laugh, and to feel alive again.

The night at the karaoke bar flew by. You agreed to just a few drinks to lighten your mood, to forget the weight that had been pulling you down for months. But a few drinks turned into a few bottles and everything had taken a turn you hadn't anticipated.

The alcohol had hit you way harder than expected, numbing your senses and making you laugh at things that weren't even funny. And you realized this night that had meant to be fun, became a night of self pity. Kyungsoo had stayed by your side all night, a little too close, a little too eager, and you barely noticed how his eyes lingered on you in a way they never had before.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the warmth of the room, or maybe it was the pain you were still trying to hide. But suddenly, Kyungsoo leaned in, his lips brushing against yours before you even registered what was happening.

But in an instant you knew.

It was wrong- everything about it was wrong.

Your heart was pounding, your mind a mess of confusion. You pulled back sharply, stumbling a bit in your drunken state, your voice slurring as you pushed him away.

"No… I can’t-"

But the words caught in your throat, your thoughts spinning. You turned on your heel, barely able to see straight as you bolted out of the karaoke room and into the cool night air. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed to get away. Far away. From Kyungsoo, from the kiss that shouldn’t have happened, from the memories that haunted you.

You didn't know how the night could turn to this.

You could hear him calling your name, his voice desperate, but you didn’t stop. Your feet carried you away, down darkened streets and unfamiliar alleys, the city lights blurring as tears stung your eyes. The alcohol made you reckless, made you forget where you were even headed. All you knew was that you needed to escape.

Kyungsoo watched you disappear into the night, his heart hammering in his chest. He had messed up- he knew that the moment you had pushed him away, the look in your eyes a clear sign he had crossed a line. Panic set in as he rushed back in and fumbled for his phone, the alcohol making his hands shake. Your phone was still on the table where you’d left it. He grabbed it, his fingers shaking as he scrolled through the contacts.

Jisung.

Kyungsoo hesitated for a second before pressing the call button, his pulse racing as the line rang. It was late, and he wasn’t sure if Jisung would even pick up, but he had no other choice.

After a few tense moments, there was a click. "Hello?" Jisung’s voice was groggy, a mixture of confusion and irritation. As if he was just woken up. "Who is this?"

"It’s Kyungsoo," he blurted out, his words spilling over each other. "I - messed up, man. Y/N’s gone, she just ran out, and I don’t know where she went. She’s drunk, and I-"

"Where are you? Why do you have Y/N-ah's phone?" Jisung’s voice cut through the panic, suddenly alert. Kyungsoo could hear the rustling of sheets, the creaking of a couch- the sound of movement.

"We were at the karaoke bar near downtown," Kyungsoo said, his voice shaking. “She just took off, and I don’t-"

"I swear to God if you hurt her I'll end you." Jisung snapped, his tone cold and controlled. "Don't go after her. Leave her phone at the front desk. I’ll find her."

The call ended abruptly, and Kyungsoo stared at the phone, his stomach churning with guilt. He knew he had overstepped, and he could only hope that Jisung knew you well enough to find you quick.

Meanwhile, Jisung was already out the door, his mind racing. His instincts kicked in as he navigated the familiar streets, the bitter cold biting at his skin. He knew you- he knew where you went when you were overwhelmed, where you hid when things became too much. And if you were as lost and broken as he feared, there was only one place you would go. The playground. The one you guys had claimed as your own secret spot. It was the place where you'd laugh until your sides hurt, where you’d shared quiet conversations under the stars, where you had been the happiest.

His heart pounded as he rounded the corner, the familiar sight of the deserted playground coming into view. Relief washed over him when he saw a figure slumped on the swings, barely visible in the dim light. It was you- your shoulders hunched, head bowed, a picture of defeat and loneliness. And your eyes were red and puffy as you frowned at a pile of your throw up- causing an audible sigh from Jisung.

How'd she get so shitfaced...?

"Y/N," he called out, his voice hoarse with emotion, and you looked up, your eyes red and glassy, confusion crossing your face as you saw him standing there.

"J-Jisung?" you mumbled, barely able to focus as the alcohol fogged your mind. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over you, and you choked back a sob. "Why are you here?"

He didn’t answer right away. He just walked over, his expression a mixture of anger and concern, as he knelt down in front of you, his eyes searching yours.

"You disappeared," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kyungsoo called me. He said you ran off. Why didn’t you call me? Did he hurt you?"

You shook your head, unable to find the words, unable to explain the turmoil inside you. Everything hurt- your heart, your head, the betrayal you felt when Kyungsoo kissed you, the betrayal you felt when Jisung left you.

"He kissed me which was gross. And you left me which was...also gross." you finally managed to say. "You left, and I don’t even know why. Pabo." You pouted.

Your eyes were half-lidded, and your face was flushed from the alcohol, but he couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation was. You were a mess, and it was breaking his heart while simultaneously filling it.

"Y/N," he called gently, his voice full of concern as he knelt down in front of you. “Can you stand up for me? Or do you need help?"

You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused as you swiveled your head side to side, the world tilting and spinning. "I’m… I’m fine," you slurred, shaking your head like you could shake the dizziness away. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself and stand, but the next thing you knew, the swing tipped just a little too far forward, and you were flung off, landing face-first into the mulch.

The crunch of the wood chips beneath you was the only thing you heard as you felt the rough ground scrape against your cheek. "Ughh…" you groaned, spitting out a few pieces of wood chips from your mouth. You sat up and wiped your face, blinking like you didn’t quite realize what had just happened. You pouted and looked up at Jisung.

He stood there, frozen for a second as he took in the sight of you sprawled out on the ground, covered in mulch, with a strange combination of tenderness and amusement. "Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling down to gently pull you up by your arms.

You squinted at him through the fog of drunkenness, your face twisting in confusion. "I…I’m fine. I’m just…It tastes like dirt." You spit out a few pieces.

Jisung let out a small breath as he pulled you up. "Alright lets get you-

"What’s a squirrel’s purpose in life, huh?” you blurted, your words slurring together as you stared at him intently.

"A squirrel?" Jisung repeated, blinking in confusion.

“Yeah…" you exclaimed earnestly, tapping your head dramatically. "Do you think squirrels...feel stuck in life?"

He stared at you, utterly bewildered by the random thought, but then you laughed, and it was like all the confusion melted away.

"You know…I think squirrels must get stuck, because…they run around all the time looking for nuts…and that's all they do. They do the same things over and over again...and it's sad to watch...because nothing changes. They stay sad and by themselves..." you trailed off, your eyes suddenly going glassy and melanchoy in thought as if you were some 21st century philospher. "Just like…just like…you."

"Me?" Jisung blinked, the mention of his name snapping him back into focus. “What do you mean by that?”

Your eyes became wide and you stammered. "UM- I'm not saying youre a squirrel or like comparing you to a squirrel I just meant uh...I like you...and...you’re like a squirrel not one just like one- but with…more hair and less fur." You reached to pet his head but instead accidentally slapped his face lightly.

Jisung’s mouth hung open for a moment as he tried to process the sheer absurdity of your drunken ramblings. "Y/N- you’re drunk off your mind and have no ideas what you're yapping about. Lets go home-"

"But I’m not ready to go!" you whined, stumbling as you tried to walk, but you couldn’t quite keep your balance.

"I know you’re not," Jisung said, holding your arm so you wouldn’t fall again. "But we’re going to get you some food and water, then go home okay? You can sleep your craziness off."

You let out a half-hearted protest, but in the end, you let him lead you.

As Jisung led you into the convenience store, your stumbling steps and flushed face made you look like you were on the verge of collapse. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a stark light over your disheveled appearance.

The store clerk, a young guy who looked barely out of high school, watched the two of you enter, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He eyed your unsteady gait, the way Jisung was holding your arm to keep you from falling over, and the slurred way you were giggling to yourself.

"Uh…is everything alright?" the clerk asked, his tone hesitant, glancing between Jisung’s worried expression and your obviously inebriated state. His gaze was sharp, like he was assessing whether he needed to call the authorities.

Jisung quickly picked up on the guy’s alarm, his face turning serious as he tried to explain. "She’s just drunk. We’re fine, I promise," he said, his voice soft and calm. "I’m just trying to get her home safely."

The clerk didn’t look convinced, his brow furrowing even deeper. "Are you sure she’s okay?" he pressed, looking pointedly at your droopy eyes and swaying posture.

"She’s my… girlfriend," Jisung said, his voice catching slightly on the word. "She had a bit too much to drink, but I’m taking care of her." His expression was so genuine, so protective, that it seemed to ease the clerk’s suspicion, though he still looked wary.

You, blissfully unaware of the awkward exchange happening just a few feet away, had spotted a shelf of snacks and suddenly veered off in that direction, nearly toppling over in the process. "Ooh, chips!" you exclaimed, reaching for a bag with unsteady hands.

"Y/N, come here," Jisung whisper shouted, guiding you away from the snacks and back toward him. The clerk seemed to relax a little, nodding slowly, but his eyes still lingered on the two of you as if unsure whether to believe Jisung’s story.

Once you were safely by Jisung’s side again, you suddenly reached up and tugged at his hat, a playful grin spreading across your face. "Sungie, why are you wearing this dumb hat?" you asked, your voice a little too loud for the quiet store. "Take it off! It’s hiding your cute face."

Jisung’s eyes widened, and he quickly grabbed your wrists to stop you from pulling the hat off. "No, no, no," he said hurriedly, his cheeks flushing as he tried to keep his voice low. "I need my hat, okay? People can’t see who I am."

"Why not?" you pouted, tugging harder. "Are you hiding something? Are you like…a secret agent?"

Jisung let out a sigh, trying to keep his grip gentle despite your drunken insistence. "No, I’m not a secret agent, Y/N," he said with a strained voice. "I just…don’t want anyone recognizing me right now. Can you please let me keep my hat?"

You paused, your brow furrowing in deep, drunken concentration, before you finally relented with a dramatic sigh. "Fiiiine," you said, letting go of his hat, but not before giving it one last tug. "But only because you asked so nicely."

Jisung breathed a sigh of relief, releasing your wrists as he gently guided you toward the back of the store, away from the curious gaze of the clerk. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice full of affection even though he was clearly exasperated.

You just giggled, seeming entirely pleased with yourself, as if you’d just won some kind of small victory.

As you guys stood at the drink cooler you pressed your face to the glass.

"Chocolate milk…" you sighed happily. "I want chocolate milk."

Jisung’s smile faltered. "Y/N, I don’t think thats the best option. How about cucumber water?" he suggested, pulling a bottle from the cooler.

"NO!" you screeched, looking up at him with an exaggerated pout. "I want chocolate milk! It’s my favorite!”

Jisung sighed, shaking his head. "Chocolate milk it is."

As he made his way to the counter, you looked around, your gaze landing on something that made your eyes widen.

"What… what’s that?!" you pointed, half-shouting, and Jisung followed your gaze to see what you were looking at. His eyes immediately widened.

"Y/N," he said, his voice tight, "Don’t-"

It was a box of condoms, sitting on the counter in full view. You stared at them for a moment, your drunken mind processing the absurdity of the situation. Then you looked up at Jisung with wide eyes.

"Wait…they're condoms!" you said way louder than you knew you were speaking. "You…you think I should get those?"

Jisung’s face immediately flushed red, and he shook his head in panic. "No, Y/N, don’t-"

“Why not? Are we…not doing it?” You blinked, slurring your words. “I mean, we’re both…um…we’re both virgins, right? So...don't we need..."

Jisung’s cheeks burned brighter as he desperately tried to change the subject. Looking at the cashier frantically. "Y/N, please. Don’t make this weird. Lets just get you to bed."

You looked at him for a long moment before bursting into uncontrollable giggles. "I think squirrels need condoms," you said randomly, then paused, as if considering it deeply. "But…I dunno. Do squirrels even have…sex? Or do they wait until their married, too? Or do they not wait- do you think that they love the same squirrel forever?" You looked at the box in a daze. "Extra small- Ji what siz-"

Jisung’s face was now entirely red, his hand clamping over your mouth.

"Okay, that’s enough of that. Put those back." he said through gritted teeth, flustered, as he quickly led you away, throwing the box on some odd shelf. His heart was pounding, his embarrassment sky-high. "Y/N, we're leaving- now." Jisung said, slamming a random bill on the counter and grabbing you and your milk, dragging you out the store.

What the actual fuck is going on right now...shes a completley different person hammered. And why does she keep talking about squirrels? Is this her drunken habit?

You looked at the bottle of milk, frowning as you stared at it. "Why did I want chocolate milk? This is so dumb…I want strawberry milk," you said, your voice starting to quiver with drunken frustration.

Jisung couldn’t help but groan. "Y/N...Just… let’s get you home, okay? We can order strawberry milk when you're sober."

You nodded with a pout, but then suddenly, your face contorted. "I’m gonna throw up again." you muttered, and before Jisung could react, you were turned to him, your stomach heaving as you suddenly emptied the contents of your stomach all over his zipped up jacket.

"Oops, sorry Jisung...you were the closest..." you slurred weakly, looking up at him with a trembling pout. "I-I'm sorry-" You cried wailing as Jisung took a deep breath.

Lord Almighty please help me.

Jisung closed his eyes for a moment, summoning every ounce of patience he had left. The smell was already starting to hit him, and he cringed, but when he opened his eyes again and saw your tear-streaked face, his annoyance melted away. You were a mess- an adorable, chaotic, and incredibly drunk mess- but a mess he cared about more than he wanted to admit at the moment.

"It’s okay," he said, his voice soft despite the situation. "It’s just a jacket. Don’t cry, okay?" He said petting your hair softly.

"But it’s your favorite jacket!" you wailed, your voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. "You always wear it in your lives! Stay will notice!"

Jisung suppressed a laugh, not wanting to embarrass you further. "I think they’ll survive, jagiya. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up."

He glanced at the jacket and sighed, carefully pulling it off and draping it over a nearby bench, knowing there was no saving it tonight.

As you walked- or stumbled -alongside him, you hiccuped, clinging to your half-empty milk like it was a lifeline. "You’re so…nice, JiJi," you slurred, resting your head against his arm as you walked. "Why did you have to be so nice? It makes it harder to…try to hate you."

Jisung’s steps faltered for a moment, your words hitting him like a sucker punch. Hate him? Did you really try to hate him after everything?

I guess I deserve that...

His chest tightened, but he pushed the thought aside. This wasn’t the time to unpack that.

"Let’s focus on getting you some rest, okay?" he said gently, avoiding your gaze as he led you toward his apartment.

When you reached his building, you perked up slightly, pointing at the intercom like it was some fascinating discovery. "JiJi! It’s like a robot but for your door! Beep-boop!" You giggled, pressing random buttons as Jisung struggled to input his code.

"Stop- hey, stop pressing things, you're making it hard baby-" he said, trying to stifle his laughter as you giggled uncontrollably. His breath caught on the last word, and he couldn't deny how natural it felt to call you that again.

Finally, the door buzzed open, and he guided you inside. As soon as you stepped into the warmth of the apartment, your voice rang out loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"MINHO! MINHO-YA! MINHO-OPPA! MINHO MINHO MINHO!" you yelled, stumbling toward the living room.

A door down the hall flew open, and Minho emerged, looking half-asleep and fully annoyed. "What the hell is going on-" His eyes landed on you, and his irritation faded instantly. "Y/N?" There was a smile in his eyes and he turned towards Jisung. "What happened?"

You hummed as you hugged Minho, and he let you hang onto him like a koala. "Minho-oppa can you beat up Kyungsoo for me? He kissed your little sister and it was gross." You said.

Minho rubbed your shoulder and looked at Jisung with a look that could only translate to:

What the actual fuck?!

Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. She got drunk. And then she… uh…threw up on me."

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly amused despite himself. "She threw up on you? Man, that’s love."

You, completely oblivious to the tension, beamed at Minho. "I missed you."

Minho smiled, patting your back as he shot Jisung a pointed look over your shoulder. "I missed you too, you little goblin."

"Shouldn't she have missed me more...?" Jisung muttered, avoiding Minho’s gaze.

Minho studied him for a moment, then nodded, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright. Let’s get her to bed before she destroys the place."

He helped guide you to Jisung’s room, where you flopped onto the bed with zero grace. As Minho pulled the blanket over you, you suddenly turned to him, your face serious despite your bleary eyes.

"Minho… do squirrels get lonely?"

Minho blinked, caught off guard. "Uh…I guess? Why?" He asked making sure you were tucked in properly.

You sniffled, your voice cracking as you mumbled, "Because JiJi’s just like a squirrel…and he left me all alone…and he looks lonely too..."

Minho froze, his gaze snapping to Jisung, whose face was unreadable. You didn’t notice, too busy hiccuping and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, like an upset toddler.

"I…I thought I did something wrong," you confessed, your words slurring but still heartbreakingly clear. "I thought I broke him…so he broke me instead. But I didn't want to ask but I needed to know...so don't tell him I asked you this but-

"Does Jisung get lonely? Does he miss me like I miss him?"

Jisung felt his heart shatter all over again, guilt and regret flooding him as he watched you curl into a ball on his bed. Minho sighed, patting your head gently before standing.

"I'm sure he does...he's just too stubborn to admit it."

"So, squirrels are stubborn?" You murmured, sinking into Jisung's pillow.

"Very. But squirrels can be very passionate too. And kind and loving. They also can make mistakes..."

"Hm...they...do..." You barely managed to ask, your eyes unable to stay open.

"Yeah, but they can fix them too." Minho got up and looked at his younger member, who was staring at you with a 1000 emotions swirling through his eyes. "She’s your problem now," he murmured to Jisung, his voice soft but firm. "Fix it."

And with that, he left, leaving the squirrel-esque boy, the one you had been asking about all along, alone with the weight of your words; and the realization that he couldn’t keep running from the truth.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

[toranoya]

Adam rubbed his temples, letting out a low, frustrated groan. “Kari, Kari, Kari...you don’t get it. I think Heaven and Hell are gone. Not, like, temporarily out of order—gone. Obliterated, melted into this cosmic soup that's spilling into Earth. There’s no ‘fixing’ this, not unless the Big G himself decides to come down and play clean-up. And considering how long it’s been since anyone’s seen Him? Yeah, I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he watched her scribble in her notebook. Despite his words, his tone softened a little as he added, “But I get it. You need to do something. It’s how you cope. And hey, maybe you’re right about the whole ‘mix of all three’ thing. You’re not like anyone I’ve met before, kid, so maybe you’re the curveball this mess wasn’t prepared for.”

When she asked about the symptoms, Adam shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. I’m immune—lucky me—but from what I saw, it starts like a fever. Demons and angels get sluggish, start sweating like they’re in a sauna, and then boom, they’re not themselves anymore. Angels’ halos crack, demons’ skin burns black…and that’s when you know it’s too late.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “But listen, you start getting a fever, or you feel off in any way, you tell me. No toughing it out, no hiding it. Promise me, Kari.” His voice carried an unusual edge of concern, even if his words were blunt. “I’m not letting this thing take you, too.”

[emistoast]

20/11 tattoo @rosekillermicrofic — word count: 728 — first time participating in any microfic thing and i wrote this on the bus to my tattoo appointment !! aimed for 500 words, got a bit carried away but hopefully it’s not horrible — warnings: implied nsfw

— — —

Evan had one rule for himself: don’t sleep with clients. It was a pretty straightforward rule, easy to follow, but this particular client was making it extremely difficult.

As soon as he walked through the door Evan knew he’d be trouble. Dark brown eyes with even darker hair, covered in tattoos and piercings (possibly more than Evan himself), and sporting a wicked grin that just screamed fuckboy.

Yeah he was Evan’s type.

He’d come in for a flash tattoo, choosing the small skull option they had and requesting it on his upper arm. Nothing difficult.

What was difficult was trying to keep a straight face while the man’s—Barty, he’d learned—warm skin was right there in front of Evan’s face and under his hands. Setting up was easy, Evan going through the movements with a precision that only comes from familiarity. He could feel Barty’s eyes on him as he worked, causing Evan’s heart to speed up. Get it together, Rosier.

“How long have you been doing this?” Barty asked curiously.

“Almost 4 years.” Evan replied, turning back to face Barty. He moved closer, flicking on the overhead light. “Lean back.”

Barty complied, leaning back against the chair and holding out his arm. Evan took a second to admire the array of tattoos covering his arm before cleaning the area for the new one.

“Here?” He asked and Barty nodded in response. After the stencil was done, Evan got to work on the tattoo. He worked quietly, only mildly distracted by the feeling of Barty’s skin under his and eyes watching him.

It didn’t take long—the tattoo was only small—and soon he was placing the second skin over top of the finished piece.

“Looks great!” Barty said, turning his arm to get a better view of the skull now resting on his upper arm.

“Fits in perfectly with the rest.” Evan commented. “Now I’m sure you know the healing process but I’ll go over it with you anyways.”

Barty nodded along with Evan’s words as he described how to properly care for and heal the new tattoo. His eyes lingered on Evan’s neck for what was certainly too long to be just admiring the tattoos visible above his collar. And he licked his lips as his eyes roamed over Evan’s piercings.

Evan suddenly felt too hot in the small room, the lights combined with Barty’s gaze making his heart race. He cleared his throat as Barty’s eyes flicked back to meet his own, watching as the dark haired man smirked slightly.

“Well as long as you feel alright, you’re free to go.” Evan said, turning away from him to take of his gloves and distract himself from the way his heart fluttered at the smirk.

“Actually I think I feel a bit dizzy.” Barty said. “Mind if I stay a little longer?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine.” He grabbed a granola bar and tossed it to the other man. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

They fell into silence as Barty chewed on the granola bar and Evan started cleaning up. A small part of him wished this would never end, there was something comfortable about simply being near Barty.

“Your tattoos are pretty cool.” Barty began, tossing the empty wrapper in the garbage bin. “What’s the one near your neck?”

“This one?” Evan asked, gesturing to the flower partly visible above his shirt collar. It was the one Barty had been staring at before.

“Yeah. Looks like a rose.”

“It is.” Evan confirmed.

“Can I see the rest of it?”

Evan hesitated.

“I’m not asking you to take your shirt off.” Barty said in a light teasing tone. “Wouldn’t complain if you did though.”

“Oh?” Suddenly he was feeling a bit more bold, despite how unprofessional it was to flirt with a client.

Barty’s grin widened. “Considering it?”

“Maybe.”

Barty leaned closer. “You got any other clients today?”

“No.” He really hoped Barty couldn’t hear his heart beating.

A hand came up to brush across the rose tattoo, pushing his shirt collar to the side a bit before moving away to brush through his hair.

“This is a horrible idea.” Evan said, shivering when Barry’s fingers lightly brushed his ear.

“Are you saying you don’t want to?”

“I should.” Barty’s hand stilled in his hair. “I’m not though.”

Their lips crashed together before he could blink. Yeah, Evan was definitely breaking his rule.

[yuuuuuuslazy]

Christmas, Airports and Coffee *⁠˘⁠♡◍⁠✧⁠*⁠。

Husband!Scoups x fem!reader

Genre : fluff

Warnings : very fluffy

Leaning on your husband’s shoulder while he finishes some work, for the second time your flight has been delayed. A trip to Norway planned by your husband as a surprise for your 5th anniversary wasn’t going what you’d call smooth. First of all, the roads were jammed with cars even though it was 3am in the morning. After you arrived at the airport with just enough time to eat and check in your bags, your flight has been delayed by a whopping 5 hours.

5 hours.

After that, when you and seungcheol went for some very early breakfast, a kid who was running around had bumped into you and spilled water. Right after that you heard the systems sweet voice stating that your flight will be delayed for another two hours.

And that makes 7 hours.

You considered going back home but calling your sister back to pick you two up again….she wouldn’t be pleased especially when she’s got an early date to prepare for.

So here you are, two hours into the wait while lounging in the waiting area. Seungcheol decided to finish the worked he had planned for after the trip so he doesn’t have to stress about it too much later on. You don’t know how he gets anything done while you pester him and play with his face, but he’s doing it. Man is everything. As your whine about being bored for the nth time, he closes his laptop and takes out his wallet, whips out his very shiny black card and allows you to go buy yourself set of Lego at the Lego vending machine.

“Go on, I saw the way you looked at that machine sweetheart. Or maybe you want to go on a walk?”

Your luggage wasn’t with you anymore so it’s just a backpack and your handbag. Minutes later you found yourself getting a piggy back ride on your husband’s back while he walks through the airport to pass some time. He was getting tired of staring an excel sheet anyways.

You met in high school, where seungcheol was the senior you’d sneak upstairs to peek at during lunch break. Safe to say you were caught and successfully married your high school crush. You started a business together, and it got so successful that he’s now the richest 1% in the country. You always tell yourself you did a great job serving as his secretary and wife. Four years of dating and he asked you to marry him, which of course you said yes.

As he approached the Lego vending machine, you jumped off his back and skipped towards the machine, scanning through the items again.

“They’re so expensive…”

Yeah, that’s what you told the man who bought you a crystal clear piano on a random day after you mentioned that it looks pretty.

The man- uh, your man scoffed and pressed the button for the biggest set available after swiping his card at the scanner. Your Lego tuxedo cat plopped on the moving surface as it brings down your Lego. Seeing you happy like a child with a set of toys to play with made him feel something furry inside.

Before he could ask you where you wanted to go, you grabbed his hand a dragged him to a chocolate store nearby. He loves spoiling you, especially when sometimes he can’t spend time with you due to being caught up with work. He buys you things and takes you places while being a great husband, and you make him his favorites meals then help him de-stress after coming home from the very infuriating client.

After the gift store, the cafe, the clothing store and a cat petting pop up that’s at the airport for some reason you clutched your newly adopted plushie while still holding his hand, walking back to the waiting area as you talked about nothing and everything.

So you burned a few hundred from his card that’s like a few cents to him. He always insisted that you must have everything and got you a fattest diamond ring you’ve ever seen in your life for your wedding.

From your dress, the venue, heck even your eyelashes costed so much. Yet that hardly put a scratch on his account it was like grocery shopping for him.

Deciding that the carpeted floor by the waiting area would be a great idea to sit on, you plopped down and started to build your tuxedo cat. How cute it even purrs when you turn the head!

One hour of Lego and few uncomfortable sleeping positions that made you look like a shrimp later, it’s 45 minutes away from boarding. Finally!! You peeked at the large glass windows and saw white spots falling down. Oh yeah…you were supposed to reach by Christmas, but here you are still back home. You two decided that you should eat something before boarding. He went to order while you waited by the windows of the cosy cafe. Coffee, snow, and your husband. What else can be better?

“Sweetheart”

“Yeah?”

You didn’t think he’d pull a move like that. His soft lips now on yours, although you were in a cafe, but of course you kissed back while catching eye of the girls in the corner fangirling over the scene. Or maybe it was your broad shoulders six pack 180cm rich cold looking CEO who whines and pouts because you didn’t kiss him good morning of a husband? They can’t exactly see his build under his fluffy coat but oh that face card never declines.

Cheesy, but it made the butterflies in your tummy go wild when he kissed you as the clocks struck twelve, signaling the arrival of Christmas.

“Merry Christmas love” you heard as he pulled out a little jewelry box. Upon opening it was the most beautiful necklace you’d ever seen in your life. You knew better than to believe that it was cheap when you asked him. The less you see the logo of the brand the more expensive it is when your Santa was seungcheol. Of course you prepared to a surprise for him too, but that’s for when you check into a hotel. (Iykyk)

Your trip to see the northern lights started when you boarded the first class seats with Netflix on the tvs. The divider could not stop your husband from giving you kisses.

It may be simple but everyday with him felt special in its own way even if you just lounged at home lazily. This must be what happens when you marry someone who loves you more than anyone, or anything. An argument breaks out from the couple in front of your, seemingly from money as the air stewardess came and asked them to keep it down.

“Love, I want you to know that all the money and power I have, I’d burn it to ashes as if it meant we would stay together forever”

Blushing hard although you’ve heard loving words from your husband on a daily basis

"May I make a Christmas wish?”

“Of course”

“Might I request to be your Mrs.Choi again in the next life, and every life to come even if we were to be rocks?”

Soft laughter swallowed the tense atmosphere the couple infront of you gave off as you two started to look through the free stuff the airline provided with the first class seats, knowing his answer would always be yes. Yes, anything for his princess.

"you'll always be my girl, okay?"

[fuckitupfelix]

ANON. LET ME COOK WITH THIS ANON.

third time's the charm !?

miya atsumu x male reader

word count: 1.8k

atsumu's self proclaimed "flirting" doesn't get him very far when the guy he's crushing on is absolutely clueless.

FEM ALIGNED DNI

atsumu miya is a fairly popular student. he’s quite well known among his classmates, and generally well liked. as a result, he’s grown a bit cocky. he considered himself a chick magnet— osamu jokes that he’s actually just a manwhore, to atsumu’s dismay— but the fact remains that he was attractive and he knew it, even if he never really acted on it. sure, he liked the attention, but when it came down to it, and osamu or suna ever prodded on why he didn’t get with any of the countless people leaving love letters in his locker, he would simply say they were ‘distractions’. his main focus was volleyball! he’d mess around here and there, but he would never take any of his little flings seriously. that’s what he’s been telling himself. he knows he could get with anyone, and he prides himself on that. it gives him a sense of power; a sense of control— until a certain (name) (surname) joined his class.

the teen had transferred into inarizaki in the middle of second year, and while he knew of the ‘wonder twins’ (he so aptly nicknamed them in his head) through friends and bits he’d seen online, he didn’t care much for them. as far as he was concerned, they were just teenagers. athletes with admirable skill, sure, but teenagers nonetheless. just the same as he was.

atsumu’s been pulling his hair out over the past few weeks because of (name)— his previous logic going straight out the window with the new transfer student. any and all attempts that the setter made to drop hints were futile. the guy was, to put it simply, far too dense.

ATTEMPT ONE: HOMEROOM.

upon (name’s) initial arrival, atsumu’s hooked immediately. it’s not like his introduction was anything crazy; the teacher called him in, he introduced himself, and sat down in the free seat next to suna and behind atsumu. but there’s something so appealing about the teen that draws atsumu in. the setter turns around in his seat, his usual lazy grin sprawled across his face.

“hey there. name’s miya atsumu,” he hums, before jutting a thumb towards the seat to (name’s) left. “that there’s suna rintaro.”

the expected reaction, if you know who he is— and he’s offended at the notion someone at his school potentially wouldn’t— would be absolute joy and surprise. instead, the new student responds with a, “oh. you’re the volleyball guys, right? nice to meet you two.”

suna has to bite back a snort at atsumu’s expression— his jaw dropped, his eye twitching. that’s it? “ya know who i am, yeah?” he asks, regaining his composure immediately. “ain’t i impressive?” he drawls.

“i guess? yeah. you’ve got impressive skill.” (name) responds, seemingly missing the way atsumu bristles at the lack of praise. he decides to flirt a little, wanting to throw this guy off his game.

“since ya missed some of the curriculum already, i can help ya study. get ya caught up.” atsumu says. he catches the way (name’s) face lights up and feels the pride bubbling in his chest. “really? that’d be such a big help! where should we meet up?”

“i was thinkin’ we could study at my place,” atsumu hums, voice a bit lower.

“. . . wouldn’t it be more productive if we went to a library or cafe? i also don’t wanna disturb your parents at all.” (name) replies. suna barks out a laugh, and atsumu shoves his shoulder. “shut it, suna!” he sputters.

“i’m definitely tellin’ ‘samu this later,” the teen snickers, leaning back in his chair. “‘n turn around, ‘tsumu, the lesson’s startin’.”

with a grumble, atsumu turns back to face the front, his arms crossed. there’s no way he just got blown off like that . .

ATTEMPT TWO: VENDING MACHINE.

atsumu refused to give up, even after the relentless nagging from suna to ‘quit being a pussy’ lasted for weeks on end. the two of them sat together with osamu and ginjima on their lunch, a figure slumped over the table, groaning dramatically; the person being atsumu, of course.

“could ya whine a lil quieter? i’ve gotta finish my history assignment and yer bein’ distractin’,” suna says, prodding at atsumu’s crunchy hair— which only prompted another, longer, louder groan.

“i don’t get it! how oblivious is this guy gonna be?!” atsumu whines, his cheek pressed against the cool table. his teammates were going to comment on how none of his attempts were straightforward in the slightest, but decided to let him wallow a bit longer. with a sigh, atsumu stands from his seat, shoving his hands into his pockets. he just needs to clear his head.

“d’you guys want anything from the vending machine?” he asks. they tell him their respective requests, and he exits the cafeteria to find a free vending machine. as he’s wandering about, mind filled with thoughts and plans to get (name) to give in to his ‘flirting’, lo and behold, he’s right there, crouched in front of the vending machine. a pretty face contorted into a hardened expression, eyebrows furrowed as he scans the contents, before letting out a sigh and standing. he turns in the direction of atsumu, and he jumps a little.

“oh! miya-san, hey.” he hums. atsumu scoffs lightly at that, walking closer and leaning an arm against the edge of the vending machine. at this angle, he can see (name’s) face perfectly, the light from the window on the other wall shining beautifully against his skin. it makes him feel giddy.

“i told ya, you can jus’ call me atsumu. drop the honorifics already, (name),” he drawls, his signature smirk on his face. “ya grabbin’ a drink?” (name) nods. he frowns slightly, turning back to look at the vending machine. “i can’t decide what to get, though. any suggestions?”

it’s almost like a lightbulb sparks above atsumu’s head. he has a perfect idea. leaning over (name), he comes closer to the glass dividing them and the drinks, purposefully drawing his face inches away from (name).

“hm,” he narrows his eyes, pretending to think about it, before pointing to a peach tea can, letting that same arm loosely wrap above the other teen’s shoulder. “this peach tea’s pretty good. it’s sweet, just like you,” he says, adding that last part a little quieter.

this has to be it. (name) has to hear that and take the hint, atsumu thinks to himself. so when (name) turns, his face lighting up with joy, and he responds with, “that sounds perfect, man! thank you!” he gawks at the teen's obliviousness as he punches in ‘D-3’ on the keypad, sliding the coins in. the can falls down with a thud, and he takes it, walking off as he cracks it open and takes a sip.

atsumu really cannot catch a break.

ATTEMPT THREE: NATIONALS.

atsumu's been going at it in the gym for the entirety of his lunch break, practicing his serves, sending ball after ball over the net.

“i’m done!” atsumu sputters, his shoes squeaking as he jumps up, arms stretched out as he slams another volleyball across the court. it lands out, and he grits his teeth. “he's impossible! he keeps actin' all buddy-buddy with me!”

osamu snorts at his brother's pouting. “so you'd rather (name) hate yer guts?” “that's not what i meant!” he huffs childishly, kicking at the floor. “fuck it. i’m tellin’ ‘im! ‘samu,” he whirls around to face his twin, jostling him by the shoulders.

“where would (name) be right now?” “why would i know that? it's lunch, check the classrooms.” osamu says dryly, shoving atsumu off of himself.

atsumu just nods, ignoring the action. like his life depends on it, he sprints out of the gym and towards the main building. through the side doors, past the lockers, up the stairs, to the very end of the hall, until he reaches their classroom.

“(name)!” he all but yells, sliding the door open with too much force. students whisper and murmur around the room, girls huddled up in the corners, eyes wide and hands cupped over their cheeks as they practically marvel at the sight of atsumu. (name), however, looks a bit concerned. placing his lunchbox onto his desk, his fork laid gently beside it, he stands and walks over to the door, not noticing the stares from all over the classroom. as he steps out, he shuts the door behind him.

“atsumu? are you alright?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. “you look like you just ran a marathon—”

“we're goin’ to nationals tomorrow,” atsumu pants. (name) knew that— he's heard him and the others on the team talk about it in the halls, or when they have lunch at atsumu's desk.

“right, yeah. goodluck with that. you guys are gonna do amazing, obviously,” (name) chuckles. god, the sound makes atsumu's heart ache. he needs to get it out already, he's wasted far too much time dawdling.

“right, yeah. words don't mean much, though,” atsumu leans an arm against the wall, right next to (name). “a goodluck kiss would work wonders, though.” he says smoothly. this was his final attempt for (name).

the teen stiffens up at that. “what?” he laughs, wondering if he even heard atsumu correctly. “ya heard me. it’d be pretty motivatin’ if the pretty boy i’ve been likin’ gave me a lil goodluck kiss. just a lil peck.”

what?

“. . . you like me?” (name) asks. “since when?” atsumu huffs at that. “since forever! yer just too dense, i’ve been tryna hint at it for months now!” at that, the realization dawns on him. oh. “i thought you were just being nice!” (name) sputters, clearly trying to defend himself. atsumu lets out a choked noise.

“am i that bad at flirting?” he asks weakly. “no! i don't think so? i didn't realize you liked me at all! you should have said something!”

yes. he should have. he knows that, god knows osamu does as well. he just leans in a little closer. “so, how about that goodluck kiss, hm?” he asks after a beat of silence.

with a light scoff, (name) plants his hands on atsumu's shoulders, gripping at the fabric of his uniform shirt. it’s crumpled and smells slightly like sweat, but he decides to overlook that detail. he leans in, capturing atsumu's lips with his own. the kiss was brief, but atsumu's hands had already flown to cup the back of (name's) neck, gently tugging him forward. (name) lets out a startled noise, but doesn't move back until a few seconds later.

“so. you'll be watchin’ me at nationals, yeah?” atsumu drawls, his fingers carding through (name's) hair, idly twisting a strand.

“of course i will.”

this was so fun to write omg!!! also my reqs are open if you wanna drop any ideas for any fics !!

divider by @/plutism !!

[muffinsin]

Hi. I like your fanfics and I wanted to ask. How did the Dimitrescu sisters react to the reader's fearlessness? Well, like they were constantly trying to scare her but there was no result.

Hi, hon :) absolutely! Haha, I can see Cassandra especially being a huge menace

Let’s get into it🙌

Masterlists

Bela

Often, she doesn’t have the time for playfulness, or tries not to show it to seem more mature than her sisters

She usually sticks to commands, or killing when that’s what’s necessary

That being said, she finds: she likes to tease you

She’s got a history of “sneaking up” on people without meaning to

Multiple times, she is said to appear behind others, her flies a little quieter than the ones of her sisters

That alone means that most jump from this

Even when she doesn’t try

You’re the first to stay calm

You don’t jump. You don’t squeal. You don’t even gasp or flinch

Normally, she wouldn’t bother with such childish games

She thinks; who cares if you don’t get scared?

Well…she cares!

It rubs her the wrong way for some reason

And as such, she begins to put a little more effort in

She makes sure she’s entirely silent when she moves, now

No flies, no footsteps, she even holds her breath!

Then, she steps behind you and just waits for you to turn around, eager to see this fear in your eyes, smirking already at the mere thought as she anticipates this

But when you turn around…

“Oh? I didn’t even hear you enter, Lady Bela! Can I help you?”

Her smirk falters quickly, and if she was a little less mature, she would start growling unhappily

But, no matter! She supposes, she will just try again…!

And so, the next time, she sneaks up to you and suddenly speaks, hoping to make you jump as she has so many others before

And she tries again, and again, and again

And eventually, to her greatest annoyance, you turn around once just when she’s about to scare you again

And, to her greatest surprise, you place a quick kiss to her nose that has her squeak in surprise

Frozen in place and wide eyed, she only watches you walk off

Someday…!

Cassandra

It really is no secret that Cassandra is considered fearsome

Maidens make way for her in the halls, adverting their eyes as if scared to even look at her and possibly draw her attention

Prisoners back up in their cells at the mere sound of her swarm, terrified- with good reason!

Oh, and she loves it!

She loves the thrill

She loves the look of it when eyes widen in fear and hearts begin to race

She loves the quiet whimpers, the ragged breaths

She loves this fear

Oh, and she loves inflicting it!

Here and there, without effort. Her mere presence enough to scare someone, her weapons coming in when that doesn’t work right away

Then, there’s you

The first time she tries to scare you is in the armory, when she sneaks up on you and snatches you, suddenly pushing you up against the stony wall

She awaits your fear, eagerly so, but no such thing comes

No racing heart, not out of fear anyway, no wide eyes, no terror written across your face

She raises her sickle to your face, snarling enough to show off her sharp teeth

This, and the blood on her face, should be enough

But you’re still looking more confused than scared

“Is there something I can do, my Lady?”, you ask, resisting the urge to giggle when she growls and pulls away

She leaves for the moment, but now it’s clear: you’ve challenged her

And from then on, in the following months, she keeps trying to scare you over, and over, and over again

She jumps out of corners, hoping to see you jump in return

But nothing. Not even a flinch, it seems

And still, when you do flinch, its’s out of surprise, not fear

She leaves limbs across your room, arms, legs, skulls, trophies from her hunts, guts

Normally, the maidens would squeal

You don’t. You’re not nearly as phased as you should be!

She doesn’t realize, it’s almost cute to you how she leaves you one “gift” after another

But, she’s determined

One day…one day!

Daniela

Following Cassandra, Daniela scares maidens the most

Sometimes, unintentionally

She’s just very fast, really

And as such, when she darts around corners without looking and nearly runs into a staff member, she often comes to face with wide, terrified eyes as they make way for her

At other times, it’s…less unintentional

She gets a certain thrill out of it, really

Sometimes, it’s for fun

She loves to join her sister in scaring the maidens

Occasionally, they make a game out of it, counting how many they can scare and gaining “bonus points” whenever they scare one into passing out

That, she thinks, is the most fun!

And at other times, she just finds it so…beautiful, almost

To see the vulnerability when one is in a state of fear…

The wide eyes, the fear in them

The trembling hands

The racing heart

She too often confuses the latter with love, really…

And then, there’s you..

When she corners you, you don't flinch away from her

Your eyes widen, yes, and your heart races, but you don't scream

You don't squeal

You don't flinch away

You don't back away

You don't close your eyes, as if she was some devil cast away by not looking at her

She frowns a little, confused. Normally, the maidens squeal a lot more...!

She sticks her tongue out at you, opens her mouth wide to let you see the sharp teeth in her mouth, but you still don't look terrified

Instead, you only tilt your head a little, smiling when she begins to pout at you

And when she swarms off, you think that's it

You push it off as a strange encounter, but think little else of it

That it, until the next day

Again, Daniela attempts to scare you

She suddenly drops down from above the door just when you're about to enter, but you only stop in your tracks to avoid running into her

She pulls a face at you, raising her hands and curling her fingers a little as if to scare you more

You remain unfazed, though a little amused by the display

And again, she frowns, unsatisfied

Later on, she jumps out from above again, fast as lightning

And again, you barely react!

By now, you've caught on and know that she isn't in need of anything, is only hoping to scare you

And a part of you is curious to see her reaction when you fake fear. But still, you hold back, not wanting to offer up a scene

You know, after all:

She will keep trying

[isagrimorie]

I’ve been watching video reviews praising Agatha All Along, and while I more or less agree with their points, one thing that bothers me is the claim that Agatha remained 100% evil, and she didn't change, and that doesn’t sit right with me.

Agatha didn’t have a redemption arc (or as Schaeffer put it, “This lady did not arc out.”), and I understand why. In fact, I love that about her character. The show doesn’t try to sand down Agatha’s sharp edges. I love that Agatha can feel so deeply while still being unapologetically a dick.

But the reason it bothers me when people claim that Agatha didn’t change is because she did.

To put it into context, for a character who hasn’t changed and remains firmly on a villainous path, the reviewers should look at another comic book show that aired at the same time: The Penguin. While it’s not an exact comparison, there are notable similarities: both main characters love purple (sorry, Oz, I mean plum), have a fascinating, wide-eyed, unhinged brunette antagonist, a teen sidekick, and a ruthless quest for power. But there are key differences between Agatha Harkness and Oswald Cobblepot.

The Penguin is the story of Oswald’s rise to power as Gotham’s crime boss. Agatha, on the other hand, was already at the height of her power and villainy. Over 300 years, she killed fellow witches, schemed, and connived. This all came to an abrupt halt when Wanda trapped her in a hex. With the help of Rio and Billy, Agatha eventually clawed her way free from Wanda’s distorted spell.

Initially, it seemed like nothing had changed for Agatha.

But Agatha did change. The Agatha Harkness of three years ago—the witch killer—wouldn’t have sat around a campfire trading stories and feeling emotional about it. She wouldn’t have felt any remorse for accidentally killing Alice.

(It’s funny how, between Rio and Agatha, Agatha reminded me more of Dream than Rio. Both are capricious and prone to holding grudges. Both were held captive by mystical forces and when freed, they denied they had changed—even though their captivity altered them in both small and profound ways. In the end, both characters die because of their capacity to change and are reborn, metaphorically or literally, wearing white.)

I appreciated that the show didn’t dull Agatha’s sharp edges. She was, and remains, a killer. Even when we get glimpses of Agatha’s tragic backstory with Nicky, the show doesn’t excuse her actions. She was a killer before Nicky, during her time with Nicky, and after Nicky. In fact, she became an even more prolific serial killer after Nicky. Her contempt for fellow witches deepened every time they fell for her road scam.

So, it’s tiring hearing that “Agatha didn’t change.” The ending of Agatha All Along made it clear that while she didn’t change—because such a drastic shift can’t happen in just nine episodes for someone with a 300-year history—there was, as Jac Schaeffer put it, progress.

Agatha never considered the consequences of her actions. For example, when she tried to avoid harming Jennifer Kale back when she was a rootworker and midwife, she inadvertently hurt Jennifer for a century.

Agatha spent her life trying to fill the gnawing black hole inside her, running from pain and avoiding anything resembling personal growth. She finds the Darkhold, and she becomes invisible to Rio, her remaining connection to her life with Nicky.

And, even when the world around her burned, nothing truly touched Agatha Harkness—until she found herself in the Hex, facing off against the Scarlet Witch.

Agatha was overconfident. Armed with her vast knowledge and the Darkhold, she thought she was invincible. But she miscalculated, becoming powerless and losing three years trapped in Agnes the Nosy Neighbor's life.

This disruption in Agatha's pattern is enough that when Agatha was about to restart her Killing Game, it gave Agatha pause. When Alice shows up at her house hoping to visit the Road, only to end up dead in Agatha’s basement.

There was even a moment when Agatha went to recruit Sharon Davis as a replacement backup Green Witch, she had to take a moment to confirm to herself that she could live with killing Mrs. Hart.

Agatha’s story (for this season, at least-- because there will be another season or sequel, dammit) wasn’t a redemption—nine episodes isn’t enough to atone for 300 years of killing. It's a story of moving Agatha into a position to transform. Or, as Jac Schaeffer called it, progress. Redemption may come later, but progress isn’t linear. For someone who is an unrepentant killer and con artist, even the smallest shift is big.

Agatha All Along doesn’t try to make Agatha into a hero, nor does it attempt to soften her sharp edges. Instead, the show offers a nuanced portrait—a reminder that even an unrepentant bad guy can evolve, even if they don’t fully understand or accept it themselves.

Agatha Harkness might not be “redeemed” but she isn’t the same either.

[mage-ical-character-person]

Time for more because. Because!

first off: wanna point this out: Meme games

The fact that the minigame format like Meme is used for WOTFI instead of the using the usual non-minigame challenges, or the choose your own adventure of WOTFI 2023 despite the whole “We should really do this again sometime”

And Just... That's Puzzles' whole thing. Don't know what to make of that!

and... this

hehehe… sillies… Second, some stuff from other posts I’ve made and discussions I’ve had I wanna stick here so it’s all in one place. Colored text is new stuff if you've read the other posts already and don't want to read repeat info and musings. Alternatively if you haven’t read the post and you want to. I got links.

First from here: Puzzles and Four both struggle with empathy to some extent. Four has more practice with the aspects of empathy that can be learned (cognitive empathy) but it’s still something he usually needs to actively think about, which is something he forgets to do sometimes. Puzzles sucks at just about every form of empathy. But they both still care very deeply for the people they consider friends (see reblog above about protectiveness)

Also Four and Puzzles both put people through torment for content. Puzzles with just about everything he does, Four with stuff like “I put Mario in Danger for Views” “Mario Does Literally Anything for Views” and this

Next, this.

Mario only is friends with SMG4 as a result of not being the Mario he was before Four showed up. When Mario is briefly turned back during the Lawsuit arc, Four and Meggy make him back into the Mario they're friends with without any input from him. This sorta parallels the whole Leggy situation in a weird way. In addition, Puzzles brainwashes people to make them more entertaining and cooperative for his shows. The USB SMG4 arrived in did the same thing for Four automatically as soon as he arrived.

And!

We're talking about It's Gotta Be Perfect again. Puzzles gets a fatal error that tells him to contact the manufacturers, then we get eye imagery. Then we get the IGBP Goop.

Notably, this happens when Leggy is turned back into Meggy. In other words, when Puzzles loses his only friend and source of support. I've gone on and on about how what snapped Four out of it in IGBP is his friends and being reassured they'll always be by his side, and what that means for Puzzles. and this is just... another instance of that.

But with the Goop, there's something else. It seems to be tied to strong emotions, but the fact that it shows up when Four is worried about being left behind for not being good enough--and being reassured otherwise is what allows him to break free-- AND the fact that with Puzzles it shows up when he loses his only friend and wants her back...

And, well... This...

(Seriously what was up with the stuff that happened to Three in IGBP I feel like we don’t talk about it enough) It's... well, it's something. Puzzles would do ANYTHING anything to not lose his friend, regardless of if said friend is okay with it. I don't know if Four's quite to that point, but he's... adjacent to that, at the very least.

The desperation to be seen... and the eye imagery associated with the Goop... it’s something

...Not wanting to be left behind, wanting to hold on to the people you have... wanting to be perfect...

Well... I mean, it parallels other characters, too.

(With Niles Specifically, I can't help but think that the Goop is some kind of virus similar to Niles/Eldritch Zero. I mean, it was invoked by an adware)

On the subject of characters other than SMG3 and SMG4 that parallel Puzzles, let's talk about Clench and Tari.

Both Puzzles' TV head Clench are prosthetics in a way, and Puzzles can transport people into TV shows, while Tari can, with Clench, do the same with video games. And for what it's worth, with Western Spaghetti, they're sort of on the same... frequency? Tari being able to interface with the simulation and hijack Puzzles' signal to bring forth dancing Mario.

AND

Oh and also Puzzle has parallels with Axol as well.

I mean just...

friendless childhood to becoming obsessed with media to creating that media (still obsessive).

And.. resourcefulness?

Yeah we'll call it resourcefulness.

Puzzles Parallels Post

feel like I keep repeating things over various reblog chains and stuff and my thoughts are never all in one place so. This where I keep linking said reblog chains. One of which has an endpoint that does not involve me but sshhh.

Mr. Puzzles and SMG4 have SO much in common. Four comes pretty close to Puzzles-level bad on some occasions and they share a lot of the same insecurities

I believe part of the reason Puzzles targeted Four in the first place (because I doubt “You’re the stupidest show I’ve ever seen!” Is the only reason) is because it’s easy to exploit the insecurities of someone who has the same insecurities as you, because you know that feeling in and out. Even if for Puzzles he probably didn’t have a lot of self awareness about it. Probably something more along the lines of “Oh, this guy clearly cares the correct amount about pleasing an audience and the quality of his content! But he’s not even good at it! I can use this!”

The difference is that Four has friends. He has a support system to pull him out of it when these insecurities start to make him spiral. Puzzles does not have that and frankly seems to have given up on ever attaining it. Twice.

AND THEN THERE’S ALSO THE PARALLELS WITH SMG3

Because part of it is because SMG3 and SMG4 already parallel each other so you can’t have Puzzles parallel one without the other.

But ALSO! Very similar motivations of wanting to be seen and appreciated. With a side of pettiness and jealousy. Also this

And this was also an incredibly SMG3 adjacent moment

But also the show keeps calling attention to SMG3’s difficulty making friends. Which is also Puzzles’ whole thing.

I need them to actually go somewhere with this so bad. Because 3 and 4 might be the only people who can actually understand Puzzles. Or at least let them understand themselves better as a result of Puzzles.

I NEED the “You and I aren’t so different” moment SO BAD!!

[cloveroctobers]

my man rates my outfits — MULTI [Fall Randoms] 🤎

A/N: just something random I decided to write for fun on my lunch break + slightly influenced by YouTuber: Isimeme Edeko’s recent video she did with her husband lol. I hope you enjoy this mess!

Synopsis: you’re a content creator who has a theme for every occasion and decide to get your man’s reactions on certain fits — OR — your man catches you rocking particular outfits.

WARNINGS: language, suggestive themes, flirting, + x fem reader!

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ──

[ROMAN] —

You were throwing ass to Ms. Ponytail who appeared on your playlist funny enough as you stood in one of your many outfits in your kitchen. Of course you got side tracked, filming a OOTN (outfit of the night), after your stomach basically told you to feed them before you ended up kissing the floor from lack of nutrients.

“Now what is going on in here?” A voice boomed as the song finished.

Whipping around like a deer in headlights with a truffle chip against your lips, you spotted your husband standing on the other side of the kitchen island, leaning on his elbows as he watched you in delight.

You warn after bringing the chip into your mouth, “You need to stop sneaking up on me, if you know what’s good for you.”

“You are…I was just enjoying the show. Especially that last bit.” Joe flashed his pretty teeth at you.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you finished chewing, “You could have seen it up close and personal if you did the trend with me but you preferred the gym.”

Joe would do very little trends with you, he enjoyed the ones more where you danced and he got to watch from behind…also he liked the ones where he got to show off his strength.

“I mean…with all that movement back there I wouldn’t mind another rep.” The bun wearing man licks his lips, pushing back from his elbows, “And that dress mmm…”

You’re wearing a skinny strapped two printed mini dress that definitely showcased your cleavage and clung to your waist nicely as you explain, “i was filming date night outfits.”

Joe hums again, caressing his facial hair as he starts making way around the counter, which made you step to the other side, earning you a taunting grin, “We can consider what we’re about to do a date night if you want?”

Clapping your hands together, you wagged a finger at your husband who immediately made you his prey, “No, Joe! I have to pick the kids up at four.”

He checked the watch on his wrist, while you tried to tip toe backwards, “Uh, uh, where you going?”

“I got to get back to work.” You tried to convince.

Joe chuckled to himself, “I know we both got something that the both of us can work out…and our main problem is still having seats open at the table so why not fill them up?”

He then charged at you with laughter that boomed from his chest, tossing you right over his shoulder. Honestly you thought five kids was enough but if you asked Joe, he didn’t feel like there needed to be any limits.

“Joe!” You squealed after he slapped a hand to your backside and gave it a nice wiggle after it bounced back against his hand, “We don’t have time—

“We’ll make time. I need to see more of them outfits after I’m done with you…but this one might be my favorite.” He admits as he easily walks with you around the house in search of the bedroom.

Sighing you claw at your husband’s back as he felt you trying to slide out of his hold, “Don’t you tear this shit, Joe. I mean it. The other one you messed up is still on back order.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll be alright.” He says, kicking the bedroom door closed before sliding you face to face in his arms, still holding onto you, leaving you to initiate the kiss after staring into his loving eyes.

It was safe to say, this date night outfit got a dick stamp of approval.

[JEY] —

the theme was: thanksgiving, you were already stressing out about some fits to wear a week before the big festivities, whereas Jey was more relaxed about it all. Don’t get it wrong, he likes to show out but he didn’t see the need in stressing over things weeks before they transpired. He would pick what he was wearing the week of or a few days prior.

However he didn’t mind helping you pick out what to wear either. Just based off the first outfit, you showed off as you approached from around the couch, there was amusement in Jey’s dark eyes.

He sings, “Okay, purple rain! Purple rain!”

Immediately your smile dropped as Jey continued grinning at you.

“What?”

Jey licked his lips, pressing his elbows into his knees as he surveryed you in some Metallic purple boots and a lilac blazer dress. It didn’t look bad…he just didn’t think it gave what it was supposed to give.

“Why you wearing purple? Aren’t you supposed to go for darker tones? Mustard yellows, chocolate browns, tans? I heard the color for this season is wine or something along those lines.” Jey explains, as he trails his eyes up the length of your legs.

Your arms are folded now, “That’s boring!” You start, while Jey raises his brows to peek at the wine tortoise colored set on your nails, which you folded behind your back, “I wanted to switch it up with the dark tones and do something fresh.”

Jey slowly nods his head, while he caressed his beard, “I get that ma but you did say the theme was thanksgiving and this got prince written all over it.”

He’s laughing again and it’s working your nerves.

“…It sure does smell like hater in here.” You sass, making Jey scoff.

“What’s with the attitude? You asked me to give you my opinion and this is just the first fit right? Let me see the other ones…as long as they ain’t all purple.” Jey mutters that last bit but you caught it.

Scowling you say, “No, I don’t think i will! You’re not going to get the privilege to see the other options since you just tried to drag me. I didn’t know we had Tyra Uso in the building.”

Jey snickers, not believing that you were this pressed over him not feeling the first outfit for the theme. He never said it was ugly or anything like that, the colors were off if you compared the blazer and the shoes but it still somehow worked. He just didn’t see it for thanksgiving but you were not trying to hear it.

Maybe he should have cut back on the laughing but he stood by his Prince comment. You chuck the gingerbread cookie pillow right at his face on your way out of the living room.

“Aye! There ain’t no need to get disrespectful, alright?” Jey was on his feet now, reaching over the couch in attempt to latch onto your wrist but you side stepped him.

He wasn’t the only athlete in this house!

“Y/N, you can’t be seriously pissed at a jokey joke?!” Jey held onto the edge of the couch as he watched you retreat around the corner to head back to your office/second closet.

Just as he heard the door creaking you yelled, “I’m going to get the opinion of a true fashion head instead because my husband is the worst!”

And with a slam of the door, Jey just shook his head to himself at how sensitive you wanted to be today, letting out a small laugh to himself, followed by a sigh, he plopped down on the couch just to be notified that you were on tiktok live, talking to your supporters instead.

Of course Jey tuned right in.

[TERRY] —

“Ol’ heffa!” You hiss, tossing more clothes behind you.

Terry dodges a heel that could have caught him right in the face but ends up catching a balled up jumpsuit? That was closer to hitting his face.

“Babe, what’s going on?”

You spin to the voice, hands on your hips, and half dressed.

“That heffa.” You balled up a fist, while Terry got closer to you, eyes wide as he glanced at the mountain of clothes that decorated the floor.

“I see you’ve been spending too much time at the salon with the aunties.” Terry attempted to joke, while you appeared as if you just wanted to swing on something or someone, “Alright…take a deep breath for me.”

Peering up into his spring green hues while he rubbed at your bare shoulders, you followed his coaching of breathing before letting out a groan.

“I told you I didn’t like our neighbor to the left but she personally handed me this grand invitation to her Christmas gala, like she does every year.” You begin to tell your fiancé.

Terry slowly nods, not understand what the issue is but keeps quiet, knowing you’ll tell him.

“She threw a jab at us, Terry!” You exasperate, “‘It’ll be nothing like your Christmas party last year, no itchy ugly sweaters and full glam for the greater good. You know what that’s like right?’ She had the nerve to say that to me?! She basically called us tacky like I won’t MINK her brain into a slushie! She don’t know who she’s messing with, T. My mom told me to cast the demon out and my auntie told me to ring around the Rosie that hoe but I heard your voice in my head instead.”

Terry felt a smile tickling its way onto his full lips, “Oh yeah?”

“Told her we’re not attending this year, we will donate to the foundation because that’s what it’s truly about, to help support HIV and aids, not acting like it’s a fashion show.” You respond making Terry nod his head at you taking the high road, “Then I took her invitation, put it in a blender, dumped it into a mason jar, with a red ribbon and put into her mailbox for her barely twenty-one year old boyfriend of the month to bring in for her.”

Terry dropped his head followed by the closing of his eyes, “You didn’t.”

“I told you I didn’t want to move to the suburbs but she keeps messing with me and I refuse to be shaded or bullied. I get along with pretty much everyone, except for her minions and that—

“Heffa?” Terry finished for you, which you pointed into the air with a dip of your head.

You knew your man would just get it.

“They’re just trying to get up underneath your skin since we’re the newbies in town. Don’t let them win.”

Tilting your head to the side you say, “Did you not block our neighbor across the street in with the truck because he kept blowing his leaves across the street into our yard? Even stood in front of his car after he tried to drive over his lawn to get away from you?”

“I don’t recall that.” Terry grinned at you while you stared at him in disbelief, “You just gotta teach people how to treat you.”

“Exactly! And if she keeps it up, I’ll cancel Christmas real quick for her.”

Terry laughs, pulling you into his chest to sooth you, “Relax, Tasmanian Devil. I got something that might uplift your spirts though.”

Gift giving was something Terry often did. It was always, “I saw this and thought of you,” and it could be little trinkets or snacks or anything that you enjoyed. He never missed with whatever he brought home.

It’s his black tux that he planned to wear to a friend’s wedding that was happening the day before Christmas Eve. He pulled it up from the bed and you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face now.

“I’ve been in here nearly all day trying on dresses for Crystal and Sherrod’s wedding and you’ve been holding out on this info?!” You touch the protective bag that contains the suit, “Try it on while I get the wine and the ones.”

Terry chuckles as you start to scurry out of the room, “And for my services of modeling this for you, can I help pick your fit since you seem to be having a hard time?…which shouldn’t be with all these damn clothes you got.”

“Be quiet, Terry. You better be lucky I’m not a bridesmaid, or else you and your little friend to the left might see hell.”

Terry gives you a side eye, “She ain’t a friend of yours so she ain’t a friend of mine.”

“And that’s one of the many reasons why I’m marrying you,” you sigh dramatically while Terry just shakes his head at you, shooing you out of the room, to start unzipping the suit.

When you return with two glasses and a bottle, you make yourself comfortable, glimmering legs crossed over the other while you cheered Terry on in his all black attire.

He sips at the red, carefully putting the glass back down on the nightstand and decides to change back out of his clothes, not wanting to mess anything up, although you both had weeks to go before your friends’ wedding, he still wanted to take precautions, not wanting to cause any more stress to you as well.

“What about this?” Terry questions, pulling up a black lace piece, “We’ll be coordinating.”

You were leaning on one of your elbows and laugh, “I could do a red lip but…If I wear that dress, we probably wouldn’t be attending the wedding.”

It still had a tag on it too.

“Just adds more excitement to spreading love that day and later…” he winks at you, while you feel your body getting hot, even half dressed.

Terry holds it up by the straps with both pointer fingers, “…Get up, it’s your turn to show me why you’re a million out of ten.”

You smirk as you sit up, “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Don’t I know it,” His eyes followed your movements with ease, as you plucked the dress from his hands, leaning up to let your nose brush against his, and just when Terry was ready to put his hands on your hips, you quickly slipped out of reach and circled around him.

It was his turn to lounge on the ottoman in front of the bed, enjoying his view as you got dressed up for him.

[CANE] —

“The fuck you got on?!”

“Now Lorenzo.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I know you better correct that bass in your tone.”

“And what’s gon’ happen if I don’t?” Cane quizzes, pushing off his knees on the edge of the bed to fold his hands underneath his armpits.

You side eyed him and he had no problem matching your energy.

After a tense silence you sigh, “Stop being extra and rate my fit!”

Cane scratched at his brow as he mumbles, “Was that not what I was just doing?”

You huff, “Your delivery is whack.”

“No, that outfit is.”

Your mouth drops open, as you looked over your shoulder at the mirror behind you before turning fully to look at what you put together. You sported a suede brown frayed jacket, a blue and white pin stripped blouse underneath that was left unbuttoned enough to show cleavage, baggy light-wash jeans, pointed toe boots, a multi colored silk scarf tied over your head, and a suede tote bag to go with it.

“What’s wrong with it? The theme is: bonfire in The West or Midwest.”

Cane sucked his teeth, “We’re in New York, cowboy Carter, in case your ass forgot.”

“Not for long!” You sing song, already excited for where you were spending Christmas.

Christmas’ in the city was of course special but the both of you desperately needed a vacation and Cane already hinted that Christmas would be your next vacation together. He just didn’t tell you where yet or even what to pack, although you kept pushing for some details, he kept that information on lock.

“I ain’t going nowhere where we might turn up buried alive for the buffalo to feast on, that includes: Utah, Nebraska, or at that cult bullshit Kanye likes to chill at.” Cane informed while you rolled your eyes.

“Wyoming, babe.” You sigh before posing in the mirror, “I’m not jumping to those areas particularly but i know I look good and nailed it.”

Cane snorts with a shrug of his shoulders, “If you say so.”

“You still didn’t tell me what you don’t like about it.”

Cane blinked at you, as you turned back around, posing as if that was going to change his mind. “For one I don’t like that jacket and that stupid ass scarf. So you lose points for that. You’re better off wearing my durag than that.”

Scrunching up your lips you respond, “You don’t get the theme. If I wanted to do streetwear then maybe. This is western with a touch of chic, babe. Keep up.”

“You wouldn’t normally wear that shit.” He argued, yanking on one of the fringes, making you stumble forward.

Whacking him with your bag you debate, “Maybe not but if there’s a code, you know I’m gonna body it. Just wait until I get you into some cowboy boots, then you’ll understand.”

“Some what?” Cane felt his own face scrunching up, “You ain’t never catching me in those corny shits.”

“If we’re heading to Utah for Christmas—

“It damn sure ain’t Futah and stop fishing, I’m not telling you shit until December 1st.” Cane told you, making you suck your teeth and stomp your feet.

He laughed at you, loving to see you squirm.

“So?” You urged him to give a score.

Cane went silent, taking his time to see the effort you put in. Although he liked to give you crap, he knew his girl could dress. He wasn’t a fan of this style but he already pointed out what he did like from the outfit.

“…I give you a solid six.”

“A six?!” You exasperated, “you’re supposed to always say a 10 outta 10.”

“I would be lying.”

“Wooow.” You tossed the bag on the bed next to Cane, tongue pressed into your cheek, slightly annoyed.

Your boyfriend chuckles at you, pulling you by the hand so that you’re positioned right in between his knees, “I ain’t say you weren’t cute…just that this ain’t Texas.”

A crooked smile plays on your lips then, as you grip cane’s face, “We’re going to H-Town?!”

“Did I say—

Cane starts but is cut off by your kisses full of excitement, which would soon turn heated.

He was fine in that moment letting you believe whatever you wanted.

[BARRY] —

Barry had to do a double take as you strutted around his trailer, searching for something.

“Aye.”

Your head snaps up as you’re on your knees, looking underneath the kitchen table. “Hey Bear, didn’t hear you come in. Have you seen my swirl hoops? Otherwise I’m just going to have to put my Dr. Pepper ones in.”

You’re bending over again and Barry can’t help but to be a peeping Tom. You’re dressed in a dark pinstriped denim corset, and a white flowy skirt that did not leave much to the imagination when you’re down on all fours. You always did say if anyone could see your birthmark, then that means your bottom half was probably too short. However that didn’t apply if you stood upright!

He didn’t know what earrings you were talking about, at all and he didn’t even care.

“Where you goin’ in that?” Barry ignored your question with a question of his own.

Bouncing back on your feet, you spin, skirt twirling as you did so, sitting on the nook chair to slip your feet into your shoes, “It’s girl night, I’m going out.”

“Oh word? I thought you said that brat girl summer shit was over.” Barry slouches on the couch, exhausted from his day at work.

You laugh, “It’s not just a trend, it’s a lifestyle.”

Barry snorts, “Yeah, whatever that means. You look good as hell, though.”

You smile at him in thanks, heading to the back to swap the one swirl earring for your signature Dr. Pepper earrings that you made (along with other styles) and sold online instead. Barry is behind you, leaning in the doorway as you peek at him in the mirror.

“Can I help you?” You tease while Barry shamelessly runs his eyes over the back of your thighs.

He nods, “Yeah, I’m sure you can. By cancelling your plans to hang out with me instead.”

“Oh no.” You whip around after latching onto the bathroom spray, “Kie already said you would try and pull this in the group chat after the pics I sent. Which is why I hoped I would be gone before you came in. You did this last month and I’m not folding this month so control yourself.”

Barry can’t help the dimple that pokes out as he keeps his arms folded, “I ain’t hear much complaining from you then, baby doll.”

“We deserve a girls night, don’t ruin this, please!” You kept the spray aimed right at your boyfriend, almost sitting on the pedestal sink.

Barry wouldn’t be selfish, although he definitely envisioned what the both of you could get into in this cramped bathroom. The both of you heard the horn beeping obnoxiously but the both of you kept your eyes on each other instead.

“Fine, I’ll let you go.” Barry says, “You gotta give me some lovin’ first.”

Turning your eyes into slits you cautiously step forward, making sure the bathroom spray is pressed into his chest, as you leaned forward to smooch his lips.

Of course Barry let the quick kisses last for only a few seconds before he really latched his hands onto you. He let his hands roam all over your body before pulling back to the point there was a bit of saliva that separated you.

“Have fun but don’t you dare let nobody up on what’s mine, you hear me?” He let go of your jaw and licked at the corner of your swollen mouth, “Well don’t just stand there, go on, get!”

With a slap of your ass, which made you jump, you side stepped your boyfriend who had a smug grin on his face, knowing that he would be on your mind while you’re hanging with your girls.

It was all part of the plan.

Cleo was surprisingly in the driver’s seat of Kiara’s pathfinder and as soon as you got into the passenger side, the girls all peered at you.

“Girl!” Kiara starts.

Followed by Sarah who was sitting on the floor behind the driver’s side appearing a little ill as she motioned to her mouth, “You got a little—

You shushed them with a finger up in the air while you pulled on the drop down mirror, “Not a word.”

Which erupted snickers between your friends before Cleo turned the music up.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ──

FIN.

[maladaptiveobsession]

*pokes* oh my god! i really love all of your dol headcanons, the suicidal one admitedly made me cry, it's just that good! :'D not sure if you take request or not, you can ignore this if you aren't, but i'd absolutely would love something related to bailey taking reader's virginity...? his dialogue in canon (before it was removed rip) when he took pc's virginity drive me fucking crazy :)

“Your body was always mine.”

Synopsis: You owe Bailey, but are short on cash. He takes your virginity as payment.

Contains: afab!gn!reader, anal mention, biting, cervix kiss, deflowering, fingering, masturbation, noncon, oral mention, overstimulation, scratching, purity/virginity kink

Words: 2,159

A/N: Sorry this took so long. It’s been a rough month or so. I wish they would have left us the ability to fuck Bailey at least until they had more lewd content to replace it with. I refuse to acknowledge his canon disinterest in the player.

In a town such as this, where temptations festered in the shadow, it was a miracle you’d preserved your purity for as long as you had. He can’t imagine how you managed, though he supposes your affiliation with the church must have contributed. Fat load of good that did against him, though, didn’t it? It hadn’t been intentional, but he’d gradually accrued your virginities, unraveling your innocence thread by thread.

Once in a moment of weakness, driven by frustration. You’d pestered him all that morning with dumb shit, and in a haze of anger and desire, he overwhelmed you, his hands gripping your body as he bent you over his desk and roughly violated your ass. You fought valiantly, but you were just no match.

"You should be putting out more if you're this tight. What do you think you're good for?"

Once with the intentions to torment that insufferable prick, Avery. You may have been that bastard’s date for the evening, but he was your guardian, and it was about damn time he reminded you both who actually owned you. With the right encouragement—threats against that other brat, Robin—he hadn’t needed to lift a finger for your mouth to get to work. The look on that man’s face as you choked on him was the highlight of his evening, though your inexperienced tongue running alongside his shaft was a contender to be sure.

"Don't get any funny ideas. Just take it."

Once more that same evening without thinking. With all the adrenaline coursing through his body, he hadn’t considered the significance before grabbing your hand and thoughtlessly dragging you off to his car. He hadn’t registered the way your hand tensed against his own until long after he’d dumped you off at the orphanage.

Lastly, by your discretion, too drunk for you to realize the “handsome stranger with kissable lips” was in fact your caretaker coming to collect your dumbass after you’d gone and got yourself roofied. You were lucky it was the day before collection; otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered. For reasons unknown to even himself, his resolve to remain indifferent crumbled under your clumsy lips, pulling you close to dress your lips with his and turning that chaste brush of lips into a ferocious battle with his tongue. You probably still think it was that haunting freak you barely tolerate who took your first kiss, but he hasn’t forgotten.

"Surprised are you? You'll learn to kiss better soon."

Now, behind the locked door of his office, he finds himself clawing at the remnants of his self-control, trying desperately to ignore the desire that began to bloom since he first pinned you against his desk. He palms at the ache pressing against his trousers, shame creeping along his spine. He should never have let things get as far as they did. There were lines he had resolved not to cross, and yet here he was, hips jerking to the thought of your warm tongue, soft lips, and tight ass.

The thought that you’ve been sauntering around town with that virgin cunt of yours unprotected, purity vulnerable to any prowling perverts, evokes a possessive rage that has no place invading his thoughts.

He sure as fuck shouldn’t be entertaining the thought that you’re only some doors down, just out of reach. The desire to own you in full has him in a chokehold. Growling, he reclines deeper into his swivel chair, impatiently fishing his cock out from his trousers, leaking pre-cum down over angry veins.

Fuck it, just this once.

With a sense of urgency, he gathers himself in his hand, tightening his hold damn near enough to strangle, and begins furiously pumping his hand. It doesn't take too long before he reaches that precipice, jaw and core tightening as he inhales sharply. Warmth spreads over his hand, pace and grip relaxing as he eases himself down from his high.

Releasing a sigh, he reaches across his desk for a tissue. After cleaning himself off and resituating himself into his pants, he glances down at his wristwatch.

12:30 AM

Right, there was still the matter of your debt. Before he could erase you from his thoughts, he had to collect your payment for this week. It was admittedly early, but the day of collection nonetheless, and he could swing by damn well any time he pleased. He steels himself before pushing the door open and striding up the stairs towards your room. The sound of your laughter mingling with that of another orphan—Robin, his mind supplies to his distaste—pulls at his insides like a vice.

The door swings open violently, the force startling the both of you into silence. The sight before him reignits that possessive rage; your hips straddling his with only a pair of panties protecting you from his exposed length. Underneath you, the boy cringes as Bailey's attention rests on him, eyes widening in bewilderment and terror. The air was thick with tension.

“Get out.” He bites out as calmly as he could manage, nails digging into his palms.

Robin casts a rueful glance between the both of you, torn between the desire to shield you and fear. You assure him that you’ll be fine, gesturing towards the door with your chin.

“But—” Robin begins, but is interrupted by Bailey.

“Did I fucking stutter?” he snarls, the animosity seemingly making the air colder and heavier. Quickly worming back into his night shorts, Robin slinks by Bailey while sending one last remorseful glance your way before vanishing down the corridor.

Silence punctuates his departure. Rage simmers below the surface of his skin, threatening to burn him. The sound of shuffling sheets punctures the quiet, instinctually causing him to look your way. Breath catches in his throat, soaking in the sight of your exposed thighs. As you reach for your bottoms, awkwardly twisting your body, he sees what he believes must be that brat's fluids discoloring your underwear. Lips twitching, he’s overcome with the desire to tear it from your body and have it burned.

Had he arrived even an hour later, you’d have surrendered your virginity to that urchin. Struck with violent impulse, he feels the final strand of resolve disintegrate. He stalks forward, his presence overwhelming as he closes the distance between you.

Scrambling back until your back is pressed against the headboard, you glare daggers, demanding to know why he’s here. The slight tremble of your voice reveals the fear underlining that false bravado you’ve taken to wearing. He makes note of your shifting eyes, frantically searching for an escape, and snorts in amusement. There would be no trouble subduing you, especially at this distance. Perhaps you came to this realization yourself, your eyes snapping back to him with a trace of defeat settling onto your features.

“You owe me.” A grimace overtakes your expression. Ah, now this was a first. Of all his orphans, you were one of the few that were consistently prompt with their payments. No wonder you were offering yourself to that brat. Now, no guilt would weigh on his conscience; you owed him and he intended to collect. You had only yourself to blame for whatever happened next.

Gathering your voice, you stamper out a retort, voice raising as you speak. “I-I’m a little short, but I ha-have enough to cover Robin! Do whatever to me; just leave him out of it!"

You nervously extend the bills out, and he snatches them, flicking through the stack to tally the sum. Satisfied with the amount, he stuffs the wad of cash into his pocket before glancing back up to you.

“I know just what to do with you. Don’t worry, I have no interest in that brat joining.” Closing the distance between you, he snatches your ankle and drags you towards him before you can resist.

You yelp as he pounces, quickly pinning your arms above your head and adjusting his grip so he can hold them down with just one hand. He doesn’t give you a moment to react before he snatches your lips with his own, silencing any potential objections. His tongue swipes across your lips, thrusting down your throat—domineering, rough, and speaking of suppressed desire. Pulling back, a string of saliva connects your lips.

“Wh-What was that about...?” You gasp out, greedily sucking in air, nearly suffocated by his intensity.

“You owe me.” He begins, hand drifting down to cup your sex. “And you have something I want.”

Tears gather at the revelation, struggling against his hold. “N-no way! Haven’t you stolen enough from me?”

Snatching your cheeks in his fingers, he clenches as a warning and sneers. “You fucking owe me, so unless you want me knocking on that brat’s door for payment, you’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you.”

You sniffle and sob, but otherwise settle down, realizing you have no other choice but to comply. Watching your eyes for any signs of rebellion, he feels assured you won’t try anything and releases your face and arms. You go limp, defeated. He hooks his finger in your panties, impatiently pulling them off your body before tossing them to the floor. He doesn’t bother to take off your shirt.

Though having seen you exposed before, he can’t help but stare in appreciation at your glistening lips. Swiping his middle and ring finger between your folds, he wastes no time before sinking knuckle deep, aided by your slick.

“Fuck, you’re soaked. That brat do this to you?” He begins pumping his fingers and circling your clit with his thumb, enjoying the crinkle of your nose and eyes as you try to maintain composure. “Or do you actually want this?”

You shake your head and try to say no, but your voice breaks into a whine as he curls his fingers against a sensitive spot. He takes the initiative to attack that spot, pressing a hand against your chest to hold you down when you begin to squirm.

"Just relax. I'll handle everything like always."

Feeling your chest rise faster and walls clenching tighter, he pulls away just as you’re about to reach your high. A whine leaves your throat against your will, feeling betrayed at the loss of his fingers. Without warning, his hands grip your waist, pulling you into him and replacing his fingers with something much thicker. The sudden intrusion steals your breath away and sends you over the edge, vaguely registering the pain through your climax. Perhaps he was just impatient, or maybe he cares some semblance to distract you from the pain of being split open by something so large. Either way, he gives you no time to adjust to his size, fingers digging into your skin and leaving crescent-shaped marks.

His eyes and lips pressed tight, overwhelmed by your tight heat. He’s plucked plenty of virgins, but none had brought him such intense pleasure. Melting into you, he sinks his face into your neck, tongue gliding across your skin and savoring your taste. You shiver as his lips trace your collarbone, the nipping of his teeth forcing sharp breaths from your throat.

It’s subtle, but you can hear his muted groans as his hips snap against yours, hungry and desperate. The sounds of wet, heated sex penetrate the thin walls of your room, sure to be heard by all. He can’t find it in him to care when all he can focus on is how sweetly you massage him, bringing him closer to the precipice of pleasure with each thrust. The crown of his cock kisses your cervix, your back arching from the sensation as your hands and legs wrap around him. Your nails dig into his back as that coil in your stomach tightens, leaving deep scratches in their path.

As you push against his thrusts, his hand slips between your bodies, teasing your clit with fervor. You feel yourself slip over that edge, head snapping back against the bed and calling out his name with eyes twisted shut. Feeling you tighten, he loses composure and begins frantically chasing that high for himself. Sensitive, you whine from overstimulation, softly calling out his name to catch his attention. The sound of your soft voice helplessly calling for him and only him lights his nerves and leaves him helplessly gripping the sheets. He bites down on your shoulder to stiffle a moan, spilling into you. His hips grind into yours as he winds down, hands tenderly gliding across your body.

As he pulls back, hot white pools onto the sheets below. He admires the mess he’s made: your bruised skin, neck raw and glistening, and lips parted as you try to gather your breath. His thumb ghosts over your lips, amused by the dumb look settled on your face. Satisfaction thrums through him, having claimed the last of your purity.

"Your body was always mine. Like your first time."

[doctorbarontsct]

Marius shrugged, trying as much as he can to seem normal. The fact that he wasn’t yelling at Von Raum at the moment or attacking him because he’d fucking said not to talk to him? Might have been considered a good sign, on the one hand.

On the other, Marius knew it was just because he felt so cold, and tired, and ready to stop. What would fighting his counterpart even do right now?

“My Lyf’s not immortal,” he said quietly. “The one time they came back— bargain with a god. Not your Yog’Sothoth. Not going to say it’s full name, just in case. Teppy.”

Fuck, Lyf would have probably explained this whole story better. They’d have glanced over at him, laughed a little, and gone that’s not it at all, didn’t I tell you—

Lyf wasn’t here.

“Teppy keeps its deals, but does so in the most annoying way possible,” Marius said, closing his eyes. Maybe— maybe Lyf had made another deal, no matter how bad the conditions would be. “So, Lyf wanting to live? Fine. They were stuck in a nightmare labyrinth for three months, could only sometimes remember anyone in the process, and the idea was they had to find their own way out.”

Huh, oddly quiet here, wasn’t it?

“Was actual nightmares, though, so. . . got to see them in my dreams, a few times,” Marius said. “They remembered me, sometimes. Remembered liking me, remembered hating me. . . Stabbed me once, too, which. . .”

He decided not to finish that sentence. The mechanisms back home typically didn’t enjoy hearing how hot he found it when Lyf stabbed people (including him). These ones probably wouldn’t enjoy either that or him breaking down crying because he just wanted them to stab him again.

“Just hope they’re not in there again,” Marius said finally. “Getting them out was a whole different. . . I don’t think I could take the train experience again. But I would, if that meant they were okay in the end.”

https://www.tumblr.com/doctorbarontsct/765335072373178368/when-marius-sees-the-flash-of-rainbow-hair-out-of?source=share

"Someone took away your Jonny's harmonics privileges. They can't figure out where I keep finding mine, so they can't take away mine," Jonny said as he played on.

"Jonny," Brian said finally. "Cut the shit before I tell Raphaella to take your brain out and put you in a jar until it grows back. Again. Marius is very obviously not well, and you're picking a fight with him. Please, love." He sighed, looking over Marius once again. "Okay. So, it's been a few weeks since you could last move your arm. This slug is likely what's preventing you from being able to move it, and we don't want to do anything until we have somewhere to safely put it."

Tim hummed. "Jar could work. I'm just saying we should think about putting in the jar."

"You just want to give it to Raphaella so she stops pouting her science projects dying," Jonny grumbled.

Tim just smiled. "Is that so wrong?"

[ @allthesemechanismsbutnocoping ]

"That's about it, I think?" Marius said. He willfully doesn't think about the amount of food he's had over the last few weeks. Or sleep. Or the toe thing, or the mines, or the fact that his other arm is still not working, or the number of things he didn't even mention on Tumblr because he thought this universe's Lyf would have a heart attack.

It's not like that lightning strike did any permanent damage anyway.

"But yeah, somewhere to put it safely, and we're sure taking it out won't make things worse," he added, because that seemed like a very important point he'd made, and he didn't want anyone forgetting that one.