#whether you were together with them or not

[headspace-hotel]

This year has, so far, been for me a series of rapid realizations of what I have been unlearning.

I went to the library. This was a couple weeks ago. I knew I needed to read a book, fiction. I hadn't done so in over a year and it was the longest period of time I had ever gone without doing so. I made a rule: I would only pick books I had never heard of, by authors I had never heard of, and I would not do any preliminary research or even bother to look at what the book was about. I would make my decision on whether to read or not purely on my impression of the title, cover and opening lines.

The book was The Connoisseur by Evan S. Connell. It was kind of a random selection. I sat down with it in a corner of the library and straight up devoured it. I tore through the book within a few hours, without taking a single break. I was captivated. I couldn't put it down.

It is a book about a guy who buys a Mayan figurine in a knickknack shop while he's on a business trip. and becomes obsessed with pre-Columbian sculptural art. There isn't really much of a plot apart from this. He goes to sketchy antique shows, has conversations with museum curators, wealthy art dealers and forgers, and seeks to learn how to distinguish a genuine pre-Columbian piece from a fake one. It was written in the 1970's, so the views on Native Americans are antiquated and sometimes offensive, and there is the troubling thread of the very concept of looting another culture's treasures and treating them as collectibles, though the book is not without commentary on this.

All the same, it was a completely intoxicating read. The vicarious experience of becoming fascinated with a topic and having it unfold a whole world for you was ferociously gripping, and so was the intrigue of the art collecting world itself. The frauds, forgeries, smuggling, museums, academics, aristocrats, auctions and seedy flea markets. Will he ever be able to tell if a piece is "real?" Does it matter if it's "real?" Why does he want to own and possess a piece of art, and how does its "realness" affect that desire? The book leaves you not knowing what to think.

It is a book about curiosity, portrayed in the narrative as a totally unreasonable lightning bolt that strikes a man who has never been fascinated by anything and changes him forever. Why? Why does a Mayan figurine, in particular, speak to him? Why does any piece of art, or any fascinating thing in the world, speak to anyone? It is unknowable.

I went to the library again. I picked a new book using the same rules. This book was Fragile Beasts by Tawni O'Dell. Just like the last time, I was totally captivated. I couldn't put it down.

Did I have a couple major problems with the portrayal of some important aspects of the story? Yes. (It would make the post much longer to discuss.) Was I completely captured by and invested in the story for the time I was reading it? Also yes. The book braids together several very different strands-- the story of a legendary Spanish bullfighter and a wealthy American woman that he loved, two brothers stuck in an ugly family situation after their father's death in a car accident, and a rich old heir to a Pennsylvania coal mining fortune and to the sinister underbelly of her family's business.

There was a lot about baseball, which I know nothing about, and bullfighting, which I know nothing about, and I certainly don't know anything about being a teenaged boy who resents and mistrusts his estranged mother, or an aristocratic old lady who lives in a mansion and eats fancy Spanish food. It was fun to experience so much unfamiliar stuff and to care about things I wouldn't normally care about. Once again I couldn't stop reading until I had finished it.

I don't know that either book was "good," though I thought they were both well written; I just know that reading them was like being hooked up to an IV of something essential and life-giving and feeling it reanimating my body.

It had been a year since I had read any fiction, but it had been much, much longer since I had loved to read. As I became an adult I had become picky and critical about books, and developed a highly sophisticated sense of my taste and the books I considered good- which were very rare. My taste in books became so sophisticated, eventually, that I didn't like books at all anymore.

I had almost withered away from deficiency of that essential nutrient known as STORY. I'd almost crumbled myself into dust from pretentiousness! I may have been terribly wrong about the kinds of things I liked to read, on top of it. And I certainly hadn't realized that story was such an essential nutrient.

"Just entertainment" the pretentious sorts of people might say of a book they think is useless-- but what is entertainment but to absorb your mind in something, and what is absorbing your mind in a book but to experience things you would never have experienced? It expands you and makes you more complicated. It is the study of human existence itself.

Now all I have been able to think about today is finishing my work and going to the library again...

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 4

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; slow-burnish; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff/domesticity; humour; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Whenever Simon spares you a glance to remind himself that this new and strange arrangement is real, he finds you staring right back at him somehow.

Always making eye contact; holding his unwavering gaze with a silent expectation that makes his chest feel tight and his brain go numb, grappling for answers. Multiple times he's caught himself biting the tip of his tongue harshly to refrain himself from barking “What?” at you, demanding an answer in exchange for his cluelessness: What do you want from me?

He's building a mountain of expectations in his mind involuntarily while lacking the gear and a strategy in how to climb it properly. It's too high, and he knows he can never reach the top unscathed.

How can he possibly take care of you if he can barely take care of himself outside of what is required of him? He keeps himself fit, alive, able to function, always ready to follow an order and go in for the kill. That’s what he knows, what he’s comfortable with, but this?

Simon doesn't play house, doesn't know how to handle something so... domestic and delicate. He never experienced it growing up, never witnessed normalcy. If he would care about such things now, he’d have a wife or something akin to one, but he doesn’t–never even had a partner before, never bothered to believe himself fit for dating, for letting someone in like this.

Even the soft clothes you're wearing make him recoil; pastel colours having the opposite effect of red to a bull–so odd and out of place to him, and he knows the callouses on his fingers would simply catch on the fabric if he were ever to reach out to you for whatever reason, like a sheep’s fine wool catching on a thorn brush, scratching and tearing.

“What would you like for dinner?”

Simon blinks twice, thrice, before the question comes through his thick skull, vision slowly clearing despite him having stared at you for the past minutes while you were sitting on his couch patiently the whole time, eager as ever now that he willingly took you back to his flat again.

Why did you even sign the handlership without knowing him at all beforehand? Are you really that oblivious? That naïve? Or did the brass coax you into signing it?

“Simon?”

The way you keep saying his name so casually, makes his chest ache, makes him inhale sharply each time. What would he like for dinner? It should be such a simple question, but it seems like a puzzle to him–a thousand pieces, all in the same bloody colour.

“Why? Ya offering to cook for me, lass?” He snorts humourlessly. It's ridiculous. No one cooks for him unless he goes to the mess hall to get some grub.

“Of course, I'd love to!” You answer immediately, flashing a genuine smile. His eyes flicker to your tail when it starts to wag again and he curls his lips under his mask. Isn't he supposed to take care of you? What even is this bloody handlership? His brows draw together quizzically, making that deep crease reappear between them. Perhaps he should’ve read it before putting his signature on the damn paper.

Then he sighs in resignation. “Do whatever you want, just stay out of my room,” he replies and makes a half-hearted gesture towards the kitchen. “Not sure wha’s in the fridge. Been a few days since I went to the store,” he admits begrudgingly, kissing his teeth in annoyance when his stomach grumbles.

“Well then,” you say tentatively, tail stilling on the couch, “–why don't we go shopping for groceries?”

It’s already late afternoon, when Simon pulls up to the parking lot in front of the local supermarket in town with a truck he borrowed, deciding it’s better for his own nerves to take you somewhere else but the stores they have on base.

He just can’t bring himself to keep you on a leash around his peers, to parade you around wearing a pink collar around your neck with his rank and military ID number stitched into its leather–a ‘gift’ from the bloody gift basket Price had delivered to his flat along with the initial shock of your presence.

And, by god, he wants to drop the leash and run in the other direction as soon as the automatic sliding doors swoosh open and his boots step foot into the store with you in tow–a red shopping basket clutched in his other hand.

What an absurd picture it must be to other shopgoers–a behemoth with a skull mask and cargo pants buying veggies and snacks with a gorgeous hybrid woman on a pink leash and matching collar. Kinky, he muses unintentionally and grits his teeth, cringing at his own stupid thought. It’s then and there Simon decides to murder Price next chance he gets.

“Mummy, look!” A toddler exclaims, pointing at you as he peeks his head into the produce aisle. Simon’s eyebrow raises beneath his mask as the little boy approaches shyly, his wide eyes fixated on you. Civilians, especially kids and women, usually avoid him like the plague whenever he’s out and about in public, looking like, well–himself.

“Hello there,” you coo at the toddler, crouching down to his level while Simon keeps as much distance as the leash allows him to, knowing better than to interfere. “Are you looking for your mama?” You ask attentively, ears twitching as you look past the boy, already searching for his parents.

The boy shakes his head with a big smile, rocking on his feet. “Nu-uh, she’s–”

“Noah!” The frantic voice of a woman calls out. “I told you to stay by–” Her eyes widen, steps faltering briefly as she catches sight of Simon, who has already anticipated the reaction, slumping his shoulders to try and make himself look smaller, less threatening.

“He’s okay,” you chime in swiftly, straightening up to be on eye-level with Noah’s mother. “We were about to help him look for you, madam,” you assure her, and the boy giggles when you ruffle his brown unruly curls briefly. “Isn’t that right, big man?”

The conversation fades into the background just like Simon’s whole presence seemingly does as you go on to hold a friendly and effortless conversation with the mother and her son. Meanwhile, Simon doesn’t quite remember the last time someone approached him so casually and jovially, and he gets lost in his own rotten mind with flashbacks of the past again–seeing the ghosts of Beth and Joseph in these strangers in front of him, and his heart is gripped by icy tendrils of grief and melancholy until your laugh breaks through the vision, pulling him back to reality at once.

“Oh, no worries! I’m sure it is strange to see someone like me in a quaint town like this,” you chuckle softly, giving a small wave with your hand while Simon’s pale lashes flutter as he tries to follow the conversation once more after what he’s missed. He notices how the toddler is giggling, petting and hugging your fluffy tail while you continue talking to his mum like it’s nothing unordinary. “But working for the military has brought me to the strangest places where hybrids are either a common occurrence or completely rare and more like a myth,” you explain patiently.

And the woman smiles coyly, already smitten with your charms. “Well, you certainly are a looker if I dare say so, miss.”

Once Alice, as she'd introduced herself, and Noah go about their own shopping, Simon catches the odd look on your face, something akin to sadness or longing hidden behind your smile, before you rapidly blink it away as a grumpy-looking elderly man approaches you, asking for help as if you'd know your way around while Simon groans internally, already despising all the attention.

You really do turn heads in a rather positive way if you manage to make the most grumpy old geezer smile in a heartbeat.

“You always this chipper?” He gruffs as he watches you add a pound of butter and coffee creamer to the overflowing basket, not that he'd care about that. You've been nothing but mindful of prices and proper nourishment while strolling through the aisles.

“Hm?” Simon snorts, in amusement this time. There's no way you didn't hear him; he saw your plush left ear swivel in his direction. “Ya heard me jus’ fine, lass.” He mutters, grabbing a box of his favourite biscuits as he walks past them and shoving them in between the other goodies, feeling like a child sneaking candy into their parent's shopping cart.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, keeping your eyes trained on the shelves with different brands of toast before grabbing a packaged loaf. “I guess I am.” Then you stop, glancing up at him over your shoulder, and Simon nearly bumps into you. “You don't like people coming up to us to chat?”

Simon's brows furrow. Us? “They wanna talk you, not me. 'm basically–” He shrugs, making a vague gesture at himself as the leash clinks in his hand.

“A Ghost?” You quip, beaming at your little joke while your tail swishes proudly.

“Right,” Simon huffs quietly. “Smooth.”

He's rather thankful for his balaclava as he continues trotting after you through the store, hiding the tiniest crack of a smile underneath the black cloth.

There’s a match on the telly, an ice cold bottle of his favourite ale on the coffee table on a coaster he didn’t even know he owned, though all Simon can really focus on is this bizarre situation he finds himself watching as you go about doing your own thing in his kitchen.

It’s almost mesmerizing, the way you rummage through the cupboards and drawers, taking out pots and bowls to your liking as if you own the place already, preparing a side salad while the steaks sizzle in the pan–all while you’re wearing that frilly, pale pink apron that you’d fetched from your suitcase earlier, the one that makes Simon wonder if one of your previous handlers is responsible for your peculiar wardrobe, or if pink simply happens to be your favourite colour.

He takes an absentminded sip of his drink when another thought pops into his head: What if you wear all of this hyper-feminine bollocks because people forced you to like it? What if they manipulated you into enjoying stuff to state their own perverted fantasies? Would you rather wear something else?

And Simon imagines it briefly–you wearing something cosy, perhaps one of his hoodies that would most likely swallow you whole. He takes another swing of ale and his nose wrinkles, though it’s not the bitterness making him squinch.

“Dinner is ready in five,” you croon suddenly, popping your head into the living room from the kitchen as the savoury aroma of steak and chips wafts through the flat, engulfing the usually sparse space like a warm, comforting blanket.

With a soft groan and a cracking knee, Simon gets up from his seat on the couch. The least he can do is set the table.

@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses @kerst666 @whos-fran @d1zzy-r1v3rs @userinaliel666 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @vmaxis @tessakate @dneicjefx @sushiumex @yourfavreggie @cmbghost @brokexintroverted @mysterygrl555 @bunnybeaches @fmlmf @teapartydreams @nachofriess @slut-lmao @sweetnanah @kodzukenwhore @thefutureastronaut @arael-asuka @oliver-1270

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BLOCK ME OUT

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: haunted by her ex’s cruel words, y/n wishes she could block herself out. but rafe sees her differently—like she hung the stars in the sky.

based on this ask !! thank you for this anon, apologies that it’s taken so long, but i hope it’s what you asked for and you enjoy it :) <3

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

WARNINGS: appearance insecurities, angsty with a soft ending, soft!rafe, rafe thinking violent thoughts (nothing unusual😝), past emotionally/verbally abusive relationship (reader’s ex), crying, cursing, allusions to sex. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, eyes tracing the features she had long since memorised yet never quite accepted. The fluorescent light above cast harsh shadows, making every perceived flaw stand out even more—the uneven texture of her skin, the way her cheeks seemed too full in certain angles but too hollow in others, the faint blemishes she could never quite cover no matter how much makeup she wore. Her fingers ghosted over her jawline, then moved to her lips, hesitating as if debating whether they were too thin or too full.

She sighed, dropping her hand and looking away. It didn’t matter. It never did.

“Y/N?”

Rafe’s voice echoed from the hallway, warm and familiar. He must have noticed how long she had been in here. She took a breath and composed herself before stepping out, her lips pulling into a small, forced smile.

“Hey,” she said casually.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her with that soft yet unreadable expression he sometimes had when he thought she wasn’t looking. His blue eyes flickered over her face, taking in every detail as if memorising it. She knew he was about to say something—probably a compliment, because he always did. And just like always, she prepared to ignore it.

“You look beautiful,” Rafe murmured, almost absentmindedly, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

Y/N scoffed quietly, shaking her head as she crossed the room. “No, I don’t.”

Rafe frowned slightly, his brows drawing together in concern, but he didn’t argue. He never did. Instead, he just watched as she climbed into bed beside him, her body curling up instinctively, as if trying to take up less space. He noticed that too.

It had started small, the little deflections. The way she would dismiss any compliment he gave her with a wave of her hand or a disbelieving laugh. At first, he assumed she was just being humble, but the more time he spent with her, the more he realized it was something else.

Something deeper.

A wound that hadn’t healed.

Rafe didn’t push. He didn’t ask. But he noticed.

Like the way her smile always faltered for just a second when someone called her pretty, as if the word physically pained her. Or how she always changed the subject when he told her she was beautiful, shifting the conversation so quickly it was almost seamless. If he wasn’t paying such close attention, he might’ve missed it.

But he was always paying attention.

Y/N knew she should appreciate Rafe’s compliments, knew that he wasn’t just saying them to be nice. But she couldn’t make herself believe them. Not after everything.

Not after him.

Her ex’s voice still lingered in the back of her mind like a ghost, whispering cruel words she could never quite erase.

“You really think you’re all that? God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure it’s pathetic.”

“I don’t know why you even bother with makeup—it doesn’t help.”

“No one’s looking at you the way you think they are. You’re just… average.”

She had spent so much time believing those words, internalising them, letting them take root deep inside her until they became an unshakable truth. And now, even though he was gone, even though she had someone like Rafe in her life—someone who looked at her like she was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen—she still couldn’t silence that voice.

Rafe had never once made her feel anything less than wanted. He never criticised, never made offhanded comments that chipped away at her self-worth. But that didn’t mean she knew how to accept kindness when it was given to her.

She felt his fingers brush lightly against her arm, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“You tired?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

She nodded, grateful for the easy out. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Rafe didn’t question it. He just reached over and pulled the blanket up over her, as if shielding her from whatever weight she was carrying. And maybe in his own way, he was.

She turned onto her side, facing away from him, but she could still feel his gaze on her, feel the warmth of his presence beside her.

For a moment, she let herself pretend that it was enough.

—

The night had started out perfectly.

Dinner was casual, nothing extravagant—just the two of them at his place, sitting across from each other, laughing between bites of food. It had been easy. Light. Y/N had almost felt normal, like the weight of her insecurities wasn’t pressing so hard against her ribs.

Rafe had been extra touchy that evening—his fingers brushing hers when he handed her a glass of wine, his palm resting at the small of her back as they moved through the house. Small touches, each one sending a shiver down her spine.

And now, here they were.

Y/N lay beneath him, the world shrinking to just the two of them, just the warmth of his body and the way his lips moved against hers like he couldn’t get enough. His hands skimmed her sides, slow and teasing, as if memorising every inch of her.

The air in the room had thickened, charged with something electric.

She should’ve been lost in it.

But she wasn’t.

Because the moment his fingers hooked under the hem of her shirt, inching it up over her ribs, that voice came creeping back.

“You think he really wants to see you?”

“You think he won’t notice how bad you look from this angle?”

“God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure, it’s pathetic.”

She tensed.

Rafe noticed immediately.

His lips paused against her neck, and she felt his breath, felt the slight hesitation in his movements. “You okay?” he murmured, voice laced with concern.

Y/N forced a nod, forcing herself to push through it. Don’t ruin this. Don’t overthink it. Just let him love you.

But then his hands moved again, slipping beneath the fabric, and panic surged through her like a tidal wave.

Suddenly, she wasn’t here anymore. She was back in that old apartment, standing under fluorescent lighting as her ex tilted his head and examined her with a critical gaze.

“Your stomach isn’t as flat as you think.”

“I mean, yeah, you look good from the right angle, but not always.”

“Don’t get mad. I’m just being honest.”

Her breath hitched. The room felt smaller. Her chest ached.

She didn’t even realise she was shaking until Rafe pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N?” His voice was softer now, laced with something she couldn’t place. “Talk to me, baby.”

But she couldn’t.

Because she was already spiralling.

She shoved at his chest lightly, needing space, needing air. And Rafe—sweet, perceptive Rafe—moved immediately, sitting back on his heels, giving her exactly what she needed. But even with the distance, she couldn’t breathe right.

“I—I can’t do this,” she choked out, her throat tightening. “I just—I don’t—”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt pathetic, completely unravelling in front of him over something so stupid.

But Rafe didn’t move, didn’t rush her. He just watched her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to piece together what had broken.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, her breaths coming faster. “I just—” Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t feel good enough for you.”

The confession slipped out before she could stop it, and suddenly, the dam broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands, ashamed of how easily she was falling apart.

“Y/N…”

She felt the mattress dip as Rafe moved closer, but he didn’t touch her. He just waited.

Waited for her to speak.

Waited for her to let him in.

She sniffled, wiping at her tears, but more came. “I—I don’t get how you could look at me like you do,” she whispered. “I don’t get how you could actually—” She sucked in a shaky breath. “How you could actually want this.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed, confusion and pain flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a wet, bitter laugh. “I see myself, Rafe. I see what I look like from different angles. I know what people see.”

Rafe was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “You don’t know what I see.”

She swallowed hard. “I just—” Her voice trembled. “I worry that… that you’re not actually attracted to me. That you just think you are.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick.

And then, softly, carefully, Rafe asked, “Why do you think that?”

She exhaled shakily, dropping her gaze.

She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to open that box. But he deserved to know.

“My ex,” she finally whispered. “He… he made sure I knew what was wrong with me. All the time.”

Rafe went rigid.

She saw it—the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm, but she could see the fire behind his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and steady, like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. “Tell me what he said to you.”

Her throat felt tight, but she forced the words out. “He told me I wasn’t as pretty as I thought. That my body wasn’t as nice as I thought. That I only looked good from certain angles.” Her voice cracked. “And I believed him.”

Rafe exhaled sharply, looking away, his hands gripping the sheets like he was barely holding himself together. She could see the anger simmering beneath his skin, the way he wanted to break something, to scream, to hurt the person who had done this to her.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned back to her, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of something even stronger than rage.

Love.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I need you to listen to me.”

She swallowed hard, nodding weakly.

He cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And not just from certain angles. Always.”

She tried to look away, but he didn’t let her.

“You think I don’t notice the way you brush off my compliments? The way you never believe me when I tell you how fucking perfect you are?” His voice wavered slightly, but he kept going. “It kills me, Y/N. It kills me that someone made you feel like this. That someone convinced you that you weren’t enough.”

More tears welled in her eyes. “Rafe…”

“No.” His voice was raw now, his emotions spilling over. “You are everything to me. Everything. And I don’t just want you—I crave you. Every part of you. Every inch of you. I don’t care what angle, what lighting, what bullshit insecurity you think you have—I love all of it. Because it’s you.”

Her lip trembled. “But what if—”

“No what-ifs,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You are enough. You are more than enough.”

She broke.

Sobs wracked her body, and Rafe pulled her into his arms, holding her like he would never let go. He whispered into her hair, his voice soothing and warm, telling her over and over again how perfect she was, how much he loved her, how much she meant to him.

And for the first time in a long time, she wanted to believe him.

Because when Rafe Cameron looked at her, he didn’t see flaws. He didn’t see imperfections.

He saw the stars.

And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to see them too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a cute and emotional one :’) i had this written up before i went away but finally got to editing it, just spending eh next couple days editing and posting the requests in my drafts !!

i hope this is what you asked for anon !! and as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) don’t hesitate to request <3

[megapteraurelia]

kuroo tetsurou and you did not have lots of interactions, usually.

so you were more than surprised when he turned to you during chemistry class and looked at you through the tuft of black hair falling into his eyes and let out a string of words that seemingly made no sense to you. his gaze cast away, a certain air of embarrassment hanging in the air when you didn’t answer, and he turned away, mumbling to himself.

“wait, did you just compare me to acid?”

“no, not acid— more like…the reaction is just so explosive, like us—  i mean, just us as in people, or like—” he breathed out carefully, and then shook his head at himself, laughter stealing itself to his voice as he rubbed his jaw, “never mind. i already fucked it up.”

now, you were not the brightest person in this world, but you could smell a butchered pick up line from a mile away. and the way kuroo tetsurou rested his chin on the inside of his hand, fingers covering his temple, effectively shielding his face from you, with the faintest of pink covering his ears, told you just how secretly embarrassed he was.

kuroo was cute, you thought. 

it didn’t take a miracle for you to come to the conclusion, especially not when you were used to hearing his loud voice boom through the class during the breaks. he was the one trying to keep some class-visiting friends in line, naturally assuming the leading role to hush them down, blissfully unaware at the same amount of loud energy he was returning.  he also didn’t escape you when he tried coaxing his blonde friend to eat more, offering to share his food only to try to bait him into taking it instead, when he got rejected.

you didn’t interact often, but kuroo tetsurou’s presence was hard to miss and the tiny flutter of your heart in response to noticing him hard to ignore.

“so,” you leaned a little over to him, and subconsciously, he had already started to accommodate you, lowering his head to catch your voice, “if you had to guess and we were, say, a chemical compound, would we be stable or unstable?”

his eyes lit up, a sly little look overtaking the embarrassment despite the little blush on his cheeks, and you could see his mouth curving up into a little grin, entirely too comfortable to walk the line between smooth-talking and sounding like the biggest nerd you had the fortunate luck of sharing seats with, “good question. we’d probably be unstable.”

oh.

you already felt your blood rushing to cover your skin in an embarrassed hue of red because you thought you were slick with that one. unstable? humiliating— but then he continued talking.

“but in a good way, you know? like, when two elements are drawn together, even if it’s turbulent. a little bit of controlled chaos makes things exciting, right?”

he looked at you with what was supposed to be a lazy smirk, though it wobbled with slight nervosity. one finger of his tried to brush away his fringe of hair, but the black strands fell back onto his face almost effortlessly. he really was cute, and for a split second you wondered the type of kisser he would be.

“so, like sodium and water?”

“okay, hold,” he held up a hand, trying to keep his expression in check (and failing to do so), “maybe not that exciting. that’s a little too dangerous, though it’s nice to know you like me that much.”

you nudged his shoulder away from you at the cheesiness, body straightening up again and an eye roll escaped you though you were anything but annoyed. if anything, you were a little charmed by the cowlicked hair, his eyes trained on you and the slight smile that didn’t know whether it should make fun of you or flirt with you. 

maybe he could do both.

you then decided to just try your luck because there was no way he tried to actually flirt with you using chemistry if he wasn’t at least the least bit interested, right? 

“yeah, yeah. maybe you should teach me some of that.”

he stared for a little while, silent and stumped (because it worked? holy—), though when he turned back to look back to the front of the class, you noticed the small, secret movement of him fist pumping the air and the stifled smile threatening to overtake his features.

(after class, you definitely didn’t overhear kuroo tetsurou whisper-yelling that you didn’t deny liking him, only for him to act all cool about it in the same minute. 

as if it was only natural for it to happen, he kept flexing his arms and striking ridiculous poses at the prospect that you supposedly were only one hair width away from being wooed by him. 

his blonde-haired friend did not seem impressed. at all.)

[callmeizukunotdeku]

In his time with the League, Damian learned to live with a lot but love very little.

He was surrounded by opulence--that was a power play, a demonstration, more than anything. It was Ra's' way of showing that he had power.

The problem, of course, was how easily power can breed envy and just how much can be taken away by someone with nothing to lose.

From a very young age, his mother taught him to think--to look inside and establish what he cared for--what he would fight for and what he was willing to give up.

Growing up in the League meant that he could love very little and know it was all safe. In case of emergency, whether that be a coup, assassination attempt, what have you, he could take very little with him.

Growing up, Damian loved his mother, her stories, and his sketchbook.

He never strayed too far from either so that, should worst come to worst, he wouldn't have to leave either behind.

Richard had done all he could to unteach that lesson along with many others he learned with the League.

That, of course, had made it all that much harder to leave.

He had to close himself off, teach himself, again, to think--what did he really care about?

What was he willing to leave behind?

He got distracted with thoughts of when did Richard become someone I could leave? and ended up leaving with less than he should have.

The first few days at Tim's were spent in space. Tim didn't neglect him--the two of them ate together, lived together, but Tim still had his classes and Damian's admission to a local school hadn't gone through yet, so, while he spent nights patrolling with Tim, he spent his days alone.

Either he slept or he drew. Sleep, though the easier option to chose, did not come as easy as it used to. Drawing was an outlet to him, a way to filter his emotions into something tangible--prove to himself that they were real--but he didn't want to see the emotions he was feeling. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hide them or hide from them, but his thoughts were not welcome guests in his head, which, of course, made sleeping all the more difficult.

He'd close his eyes, take a deep breath, and drift.

He'd drift and he'd think about how, in moving in with Tim, he learned the difference between living near someone and living with someone.

He learned the difference between patrolling next to someone and patrolling with someone.

It helped him see himself more clearly, but it also helped him see Tim.

He'd always known Tim was a unique fighter. When they were still enemies, it was his unpredictability that made him hard to defeat. Damian could see, now, how that unpredictability was the result of estrangement. Tim was not close enough to Bruce to be trained by him.

He had patrolled once, against orders, and then been sent to be trained by a foreign hand.

Damian could see a part of himself in the way Tim fought. Their styles were dissimilar, but muscle memory was hard to unlearn and it was clear to any educated watcher that the two of them did not fight like Bats.

Still, as Damian patrolled more and more with Tim, they learned to fight together. They did not use the same styles, but then, having different styles meant that they had different strengths and weaknesses, all the better for covering each other's blind spots.

Damian grew to understand Tim in a way he hadn't fully let himself before. As he understood, he began to relax--let himself expand into his room, finish unpacking.

Now, Richard and Tim both had different rules, but one thing the two of them agreed upon was that no one was to enter Damian's room without his permission.

It seemed silly to him--the idea that the space he took up was his even when he had no formal claim to it. What was more, however, was the fact that, once he had finished decorating, he had to sacrifice a bit of his pride.

He wanted Tim to see his new room--truly, he did--and if Tim entered and exited when he pleased, he could just...come in and Damian could mention that the room was fully decorated and see how Tim reacted.

Instead, he had to invite Tim--invite his judgment. It left him more vulnerable than he would have preferred, but he trusted Tim, so, before patrol, one night, he asked, "Timothy? Can I show you something?"

"Of course, Dami. What is it?"

"My room. I finished decorating."

Tim smiled, "Lead the way."

He did, showing Tim the little things he'd added to make his room his--a declaration of his intent to stay, as much for Tim as it was for himself.

Tim followed Damian around the room, adding small complements here and there before stopping. "You kept this?"

He was holding the photo.

"Of course," Damian said, "It was a good day."

Tim smiled at the photo before putting it down.

Damian furrowed his brow, "I...forget--why weren't you in the photograph?"

Tim gave him a curious look, "Because I was the one taking the photo."

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[cheralith]

— defenses.

characters ; michael kaiser || contains ; hogwarts!au, slytherin!kaiser, mild violence, description of injuries, blood mention, gn!reader, they/them pronouns word count ; 2.4k a/n ; a prequel of sorts to this

in his seventh year at hogwarts, michael kaiser ends up with his fifth detention already in the second term of the year. the previous four were merely for petty reasons—detentions, misuse of magic, whatever. this one was probably the most severe one yet, considering he landed a harsh blow to one of ravenclaw's beater's nose and had to be held back by his teammates from starting a full-blown fight with him.

the reason? you.

amidst the heavy rainfall that the ravenclaw and slytherin quidditch teams were playing in, your own teammate had confused you for an opponent just as you were chasing down kaiser, thinking you were a fellow slytherin player tagging behind him. it was difficult to decipher whether your cloak was green or blue since the rain and the silver clouds had melded all the colors together into a dull grey.

your teammate had chucked a bludger in your direction just as kaiser was about to score the winning goal, the heavy ball hitting your temple and causing you to get knocked off your broom much too harshly to plummet twenty meters. clearly the fall captured everyone’s attention—even kaiser’s, which made a ravenclaw chaser take advantage of the moment and steal the quaffle from him when he diverted his focus from the goalpost to you.

in that moment, however, kaiser barely noticed the steal, his focus solely in your tumbling form and before he could register what was even happening, he dived in headfirst. he didn’t process what was even happening until he saw his hand outreached to try and grab your cloak before you hit the ground.

the rain made had flying ten times more difficult. with every attempt at clutching your uniform as your body tumbled down, you seemed to be getting further and further away from kaiser. it wasn't until the referee had casted a slowing charm to delay your fall that kaiser was finally able to catch up to you and just barely managed to catch you a sly four feet before you collided with the ground.

the sound of the referee's whistle for a time out and the cheers from everyone in the stadium had been drowned out in kaiser's hearing as his vision focused on your unconscious form. he cleared the rain from his rain goggles to get a good look at you as everyone began to descend down and circle around you.

he slowly set your body down onto the grass, one hand cradling your head and the other around your waist. his heart thrummed with every movement he took, trying his best to handle you as delicately as a broken-winged butterfly. only when he took his hands off of you is when he noticed it.

crimson soaked his leather glove that held your head, the area that received the most impact. kaiser stared at it for a moment before glancing at your head and noticing a river of blood flowing down your temple, making him freeze. kaiser scrambled to his feet and backed away from you, as if any other touches might give you more damage than necessary.

everyone circled around you and him as they got off their brooms, with some of the headmasters rushing down the stands to make sure their student's safety was in check. jinpachi ego, the referee, shoved his way into the circle of the crowd, examining your form before calling for medics as he took off your goggles and part your hair to properly display the ugly bruise that was beginning to bloom on the side of your head. he held your head up in his lap and your jaw slacked, another river of red dripping from your lips to pair with the one seeping from your temple to stain your lips ruby.

the ravenclaw headmaster, teieri anri, had covered her mouth in horror as soon as she spotted you, her actions being mimicked by your teammates as they came closer into view. gasps and curses spilled from everyone as they saw your ruined form. kaiser heard your headmaster muttering a few spells to alleviate your pain as the medics quickly came to rush you onto a stretcher, covering you in a blanket to hide your form from the audience.

"shit, shit, shit..." igaguri, your teammate that had chucked the bludger mistakenly toward your way mumbled as his panicked eyes followed your covered form as the medics carried the stretcher out. "was that a foul? am i getting kicked off the team?"

kaiser's piercing blue eyes snapped to igaguri. before he could register what he was doing, he was already stomping his way over and clutching igaguri's robes in his fist, pulling his smaller form towards him.

"you fuckin' serious?" he snarled, baring his teeth towards the fifth year. "you just nearly killed your own teammate and you've got the fucking nerve to be more concerned with yourself?"

igaguri's expression turned from fear to angered confusion. his brows furrowed as his own hand wrapped around kaiser's wrist. "i didn't do it on purpose! i thought (y/n) was a slytherin following you!"

"you colorblind, you dumbass monk?!" kaiser's jaw tightened. "how the hell do you confuse blue for green?!"

"it was raining, you arrogant bastard!" igaguri countered, "no one could see shit! and look who's talking!? as if you've ever cared about anybody else except yourself!"

kaiser's scowl hardened, his fist tightening. igaguri was nowhere near his level of skill as a player. he didn't get to decide of how large his ego could get and how much he could display, so for him to be concerned with his own state despite ruining his own teammate's angered kaiser to a degree that he rarely ever felt. seeing igaguri position himself in a space that only kaiser can be one, where only the most skilled and egotistic of people could be in, felt suffocating. there was only room for one person of that caliber, and it solely belonged to him.

it felt humiliating having to temporarily put himself in igaguri's state, where he had to practically shove his concern for another down his throat, but if no one else was going to, he'll be the first.

ice shards formed within kaiser's glare. he pulled the younger boy up to make sure his words could fully penetrate into igaguri like knives.

"you and i and everyone knows that they're the best player on your team and that without their skills, you're fuckin' done for," he muttered.

his teammates glanced at each other worriedly, understanding that the tension of the atmosphere was thickening. if things start to escalate, there could be a chance that slytherin's quidditch team could be doomed and the chance at playing for the quidditch cup could falter.

kuon, one of their beaters, clapped a hand on his shoulder. "yo man, chill out. it's not like he did it on—"

kuon froze suddenly, letting go of kaiser's shoulder as soon as kaiser snapped his head back and aimed his glower at his own teammate. he didn't say anything, but kuon and the rest of the slytherin team understood that his look simply meant, "mind your business."

kaiser returned his attention back to igaguri.

"an ant like you has got no reason to be concerned with himself when clearly your stakes are all reliant on (l/n)," kaiser hissed. "you're nothing without them."

igaguri's frustration wavered at kaiser's words. his lip twisted, trying his best to not fully digest them and to not let them embed themselves into his brain as to not reduce himself to nothing more than just a mere background player. he may not be a chaser, but he still wanted to create a name for himself as a beater and to be the best one in the world.

igaguri glowered, his teeth baring a little too much for kaiser's liking. kaiser furrowed his brows, a little suspicious that his intimidation didn't seem to be working as much as he wanted to.

the fifth year smirked. "all that talk about being 'reliant' when you can't even be bothered to pass to your own teammates."

it was a blur after that in kaiser's mind.

all he remembers that one fist had collided with igaguri's nose and his other to his jaw, bone evidently cracking twice. he remembers more blood staining his glove. he remembers igaguri seemed to get further and further away, three of his teammates having to wrestle and pin him down as to not injure the ravenclaw any more.

it wasn't even that insulting, igaguri's remark.

kaiser knew he had a selfish play. everyone knew that. it was what made him a great player. he just felt the frustration boiling within him that igaguri just completely refused to acknowledge his actions, that he had not only injured his own teammate but also stopped kaiser from performing a goal. he supposes that he was just fed up with igaguri's attitude and that someone should teach him a lesson.

a coma was what kaiser heard. you were stricken with a comatose since the match and hadn't woken up yet, and it's been two months since then. your seats in class continue to collect dust and everyone noticed kaiser was much quieter than normal. kaiser himself wasn't used to it, especially since the silence that would normally arise from the bickering you and him did felt uncomfortable. from the whispers that went around the school, you had suffered severe trauma to the head and part of your jaw had been broken since the bludger was made out of iron, after all. igaguri had been suspended from the team for awhile since hitting a player with a bludger over the shoulders was strictly prohibited.

kaiser hadn't worked up the courage to go visit you in the infirmary, unlike many of your friends and fellow peers. he made such an abrash decision to finally do so in the late evening, where mostly everyone were in their respected dorms and kept their prying eyes away from him. he was used to the spotlight, but doing something as humbling like this? kaiser would rather drop dead.

he snuck out of his dorm as quietly as possible, since ness was quite a light sleeper and he didn't want his roommate tailing him. he made his way to the infirmary at almost the stroke of midnight and crept inside, thankful that nurse pomfrey went to go out and run an errand since visiting hours were over three hours ago and he didn't want anyone to catch him in the act.

he noticed that all the beds' curtain were bunched up, revealing all the empty beds, except for one. the second to last bed nearest to the window had its curtains drawn and kaiser only meant that the obvious was behind it.

he walked slowly over to it and pulled them back.

there you laid in the second to last bed near the window, the moonlight cascading your features. you looked peaceful, despite the horror that had been undone to you. your jaw had been fixed up properly, but it seemed that the head trauma still lingered. a bandage wrapped around your head, clearly fresh since it was still pure white with the exception of the blood that began to stain the side of it.

your breathing was stable, chest lifting up and down so gently like tides, indicating your heartbeat was still working properly despite your vegetative state. the bruise on your cheek was starting to finally yellow and kaiser could only stare at it before gazing at how your lashes softly rest on your cheekbones.

he turned to the small table that sat by your bed and noticed the amount of get-well-soon cards and bouquets that adorned it from friends, fellow students, and professors. kaiser noticed a specific, simple one in his vision, picking it up and reading it with hardened eyes.

i'm sorry, please know it was all an accident. rest up and get well soon. - gurimu igarashi.

he rolled his eyes before tearing it up into shreds and tossing the remnants out the open window.

kaiser pulled up a chair and sat himself down on it, feeling a little dumb that he didn't have anything for you. he sighed and continued to survey you before he rested his arms on your bed and settled his head on them, eyes focusing on your open hand.

"this is stupid," he murmurs, focusing on the stillness of your fingers. "you're stupid. for letting a dumb bludger get to you like this."

he felt stupid now that he remembered you couldn't really combat to his words. a heaviness sought itself onto his chest when kaiser was only responded with the quiet breathing escaping your colorless lips.

"thought you were better than this. did you seriously not see that bludger coming your way? and they call you the ace of ravenclaw," he snarked. "yeah right."

again, you responded in nothing but stillness. kaiser narrowed his eyes.

"that's what you get for trying to chase down someone like me," he scoffed. "you should know your place better. our team would've won, by the way. but no, you just had to go and create a dramatic-ass scene that stopped the entire game."

kaiser rolled his eyes, the frustration from before pooling up again. he wasn't necessarily exaggerating either, slytherin was indeed ahead of ravenclaw by two points during the match, but it was barely even thirty minutes in that you came tumbling down.

he closes his eyes and sees the memory of your rapidly falling figure in his vision. a strange panic had branched out within every nerve of his body during the time and he can almost feel the feeling back again when he remembers how harsh your cloak was draping behind you and how fast you were falling. he hated it, the feeling of immense dread towards something that wasn't a part of the traditional gameplay. you ruined his momentum and kaiser felt embarrassed that you were able to do so when no one else had been able to in the past few years he's played.

while he could do good without another person challenging his spotlight, quidditch had been dull and monotone without a proper challenger. it was his final year, and he wanted to go out with a bang. he scowled slightly, raising his head up to properly look at you. he looked at your open palm and poked it softly, as if to rile a reaction of your unconscious form.

"hurry and wake up soon," he mumbled, not noticing how your fingers twitched. "you stole that match from me. i want a rematch as soon as possible."

with that, he stood up stiffly and walked away from you, a heat rising at the back of his neck and a blush of red dusted his ears.

[luvvictoria]

The Jealousy Game

+ pairings. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

+ tags. romance, angst, slow-burn, action-packed military romance with angst and tension

+ summary. Ghost is struggling with feelings of jealousy as he watches Soap become closer to you, who is laughing and interacting with him freely. Despite his attempt to suppress these feelings, Ghost is faced with the painful realization that he's bothered by your closeness. Price notices Ghost's discomfort and teases him about being in denial, but Ghost tries to brush it off. However, deep down, the emotions he's been pushing away are becoming harder to ignore, and for the first time, he's uncertain whether he can keep them buried.

+ materialist ; prev. part ; next part.

+ a/n. Reblog with your favorite line! It would help me to grow my account !! Thank you in advance. Thank you so much for your support ! It means very much to me! Also if you want to take a little peek at the next chapter here is my ko-fi !!

The mission had settled into routine again after your extraction. Back on base, the worst of it was over — your ankle still ached, wrapped tight beneath your boot, but the bruises were fading, and the jungle was just another ghost in the past. You moved like you always did, like the weight of near-death had already slid off your shoulders. Like the close call hadn’t left any kind of mark on you.

Ghost couldn’t say the same.

He stood near the edge of the hangar, arms crossed, his fingers flexing idly over the material of his gloves as his eyes tracked your movements. Watched the way you tilted your head back, laughing — loudly, easily, like you weren’t just inches from death days ago. Like nothing was weighing on you the way it was on him.

It made something twist deep in his gut, something unfamiliar and unwelcome.

The mission had been a mess from the start, but the moment that stuck with him, the moment that played over and over in his mind like a cruel fucking loop, was you on the ground, back pressed to the mud, breath shuddering as you clutched your ankle. His radio crackled, shouts and gunfire filling his ears, but his focus had tunneled in on you — your narrowed eyes, the tight clench of your jaw, the way you had still tried to get up despite the obvious pain.

And now, here you were. Whole. Moving on like nothing had happened.

Ghost wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

And worse? You were laughing with Soap.

Ghost’s grip tightened around the handle of his knife, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure. Across the hangar, Soap leaned in too close, flashing that damn smirk of his as he gestured wildly, telling some ridiculous story that had you clutching your side, gasping for breath between laughter. Your head tilted back, eyes crinkling at the corners, mouth stretched into a grin so unguarded, so fucking effortless, that it made something inside Ghost clench tight.

It was… a good look on you. One he rarely saw. One you rarely showed him.

And it made something in his chest twist and pull and burn.

The rational part of him told him it was nothing. Just banter. Just the way you and Soap had always been. You cracked jokes. You trained together. You teased each other like it was second nature, like it had been this way since the beginning.

But it hadn’t always been this easy.

This familiar.

Ghost had been there when you first joined. He’d seen the way you kept your distance, the way you measured your words, weighed your trust. He knew what it looked like when you let your walls down, piece by careful piece. And he knew that not everyone got to see you like this — free, open, unburdened. Not everyone got to make you laugh like that.

But Soap did.

Ghost had seen the way the sergeant looked at you when he thought no one was watching. Like he wanted more. Like he could have more if he only reached out. Like he was waiting for you to realize it.

And Ghost hated that. More than he had any right to.

Hated the way his stomach twisted at the sight of Soap inching closer, dropping his voice just enough that you leaned in to hear, your shoulder bumping his like it was the most natural thing in the world. Hated the way you looked at Soap with warmth in your eyes, with trust, with something dangerously close to fondness.

Ghost swallowed hard, the weight in his throat thick and suffocating.

He had no claim to you. He knew that. He was your lieutenant, your teammate. Nothing more.

And yet, watching you now, he felt like he was losing something he never even had.

His jaw tensed. His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of his knife, the rhythmic scrape of steel against the sharpening stone doing little to calm the storm raging inside him. The noise was nothing more than a dull hum in the background, his mind too far gone, too consumed by the image in front of him.

He wasn’t thinking about the mission, or the debriefs, or anything even remotely important. Not the way he usually did when he wanted to quiet the thoughts that clawed at him. No, he was fixated on you.

The way you nudged Soap playfully, the way your body leaned into him with that careless ease, like nothing was ever going to tear you apart. Your guard completely gone. It was like watching you turn into someone else, someone unrecognizable to him.

Ghost knew you. Knew how sharp and deadly you could be. He’d seen you in action — how you could gut a man in under ten seconds, never flinching as you wiped your blade clean. He knew the way your hands wrapped around a rifle, steady and sure, each pull of the trigger surgical in its precision. He’d watched you assess a battlefield in seconds, calculating every risk and every chance with brutal efficiency.

But here? With Soap? You weren’t that soldier. You weren’t that deadly, sharp version of yourself. You were just... you. Soft in a way that Ghost had never let himself be.

The way your eyes softened when you looked at Soap. The way you laughed — truly laughed — your shoulders shaking with it, your head thrown back like the weight of the world had never once touched you. The way you touched Soap, so casual, so easy.

Ghost felt the hollow pit inside his chest grow deeper, a coldness spreading through him like the creeping chill of an early morning fog.

His stomach burned. Tight. Coiling like an invisible wire, threatening to snap. It was the kind of ache that made his ribs feel too tight around his lungs, made it hard to breathe, hard to think. The kind of ache that said something was wrong but never quite gave him the words to explain it.

It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t possessiveness. Not exactly.

It was the fucking emptiness of watching you become someone else in front of him — someone he couldn’t reach, someone he couldn’t have.

And that burned worse than anything he’d felt in a long time.

“Ghost.”

Price’s voice cut through his thoughts like a blade, sharp and clear.

Ghost blinked, snapped back to the present with a grunt. His fingers had pressed the knife so hard against the whetstone that the leather of his glove had torn slightly, a chunk of it gouged out by the edge. He hadn’t even noticed.

Price’s sharp eyes narrowed at the scene unfolding across the hangar, his brow lifting slightly. “Something on your mind, son?”

The question was casual, but the tone, the weight of it, made Ghost’s jaw tighten.

“No.” The lie was too quick, too stiff, and Price’s gaze sharpened.

Price didn’t buy it for a second. He followed Ghost’s line of sight, his gaze settling on you and Soap. Soap’s hand brushed your shoulder, a touch too familiar, a touch that lingered just a little too long. The way you didn’t pull away. The way you leaned in closer.

Price let out a low, knowing hum, like he’d seen this before. “Mm-hmm.”

Ghost scowled, something sharp and frustrated cutting through him. “It’s not—”

“Uh-huh.” Price clapped a heavy, callused hand on his shoulder, the weight of it almost painful. “Listen, you can pretend all you want, but I know a man in denial when I see one.”

Ghost bristled, the flush of frustration creeping up his neck. He didn’t like this conversation. Didn’t like the way Price was peeling him open with a few words. Didn’t like the implication that he was something he wasn’t supposed to be. But as much as he wanted to deny it, maybe Price was right.

And that realization burned deeper than any mission failure.

Price exhaled, shaking his head like he was disappointed, but not in the way Ghost had expected. “Jealousy’s a hell of a thing, mate. Makes even the best of us act like idiots.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Price arched a brow, his eyes gleaming with something close to amusement. “Sure you’re not. And I’m a ballet dancer.”

Ghost bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue. He didn’t have a response. Didn’t know how to explain it, how to untangle the mess in his chest. Instead, he turned back to his knife, dragging the blade across the stone with a mechanical precision that didn’t soothe him at all.

He wouldn’t be jealous. Couldn’t be. It wasn’t who he was.

He’d trained himself to shut it down, to suppress the flickers of emotion that threatened to disrupt the wall he’d built around himself. It wasn’t safe to feel, not with the life he led. Not with the people he trusted.

But as Soap threw his arm around you, pulling you in close with that wide, teasing grin, something dark and sharp coiled in Ghost’s gut.

You didn’t shy away from him. Didn’t pull back, didn’t create any distance. And that feeling — cold, possessive — gnawed at him with a hunger that unsettled him.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if he could push it down.

Wasn’t sure if he even wanted to anymore.

And that terrified him more than anything.

tag list : @hao-ming-8 @jajouska @pinkpookiebear

[acexsmhking]

Poly!Brim x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ General Head-Canons for Brian & Tim

Summary: General Head-canons for our two lovely older men

Warning(s): 18+ content, sexual content, GN!Reader, Canon & non-canonical content, personal adaptations

SFW!!

Okay so… this is a.. very weird, complex yet not complex situation

Brian and Tim’s very individual relationship is… unlabeled. It’s so platonically romantic that there just wasn’t a label to fit them

Best way to describe them is soulmates, they just are what they are.. and it’s kinda gay

Brian and Tim have been together like this for years, almost two whole decades. Since back in their college days they’ve been inseparable

You most definitely meet them sometimes after Brian resurrects (he is not dead!!! As they drag me to a padded room)

At first everything is just friendship, it takes awhile to gain their trust, especially Tim’s as he some.. heavy survivors guilt

The romantic part of your relationship starts happening very… uhhh natural?? Not rlly talked about kinda way

At some point those cheek kisses and friend dinners just had a shift in them and none of yall addressed it

It wasn’t until you took them home to meet your family and introduce them as your boyfriends subconsciously that you all had “ohhhhh” moment

I literally cannot explain to how absurdly healthy a relationship with Brian and Tim is. Like it is so emotionally, physically, and spiritually fulfilling

Like whether poly or individual they are so Jowwnoanswn

Ahem. Pardon

Brian is most probably the tallest one, since he is 6’4 and he EATS it up. He just loves when you or Tim call him to grab something that he may or may not have placed too high

Don’t be fooled though, Tim is definitely the strongest one out of pair. He can hold you and Brian

That one couples TikTok

They BOTH spoil the ever loving shit out of you. Like it’s just constant. They come home with flowers or trinkets or something

Brian is the most likely one of out the two to bring you things like rocks and shells

It goes without saying Tim is.. incredibly socially awkward. Although not nearly as bad as when he was younger

When he’s talking to new people he has a nasty habit of picking his fingers, Brian always holds his hands when he’s there and you pick up on this habit. Also holding Tim’s hands

Tim is the middle sleeper. A duty bestowed without his knowledge

He’s just soo cuddly and Brian really likes his leg space

You and Tim both collectively steal Brian’s cloths. His jackets, hoodies, shirts, boxers, pants, shoes. The man can’t even defend himself

You are now Toby’s mom.. figure.. kinda. He’s a little hostile towards you at first (more like a lot) but he warms up to you.

You very much so live an American dream type lifestyle. Gated community, pretty houses, wrap around porch. Whole shebang.

Again I mean… being possessed by a white.. tentacle.. static entity isn’t fun and you miss “basic” forms of living

Meeting Hoodie and Masky though was… well.. something.

Occasionally Masky would just front to hang out with you and Brian. Of course early in the relationship you never knew these “behavioral changes” were him and only Brian did

Hoodie typically only fronts on occasion when Masky is around. He’s still a little mad at Tim and likes making him beg for it

However, seeing them in their clothes that you had once noticed shoved into the corner of the closet was.. scary

They don’t hurt you, but I mean just walking downstairs for water one night and seeing two masked men in your home?? Yeah you reached for the gun

Of course it was a weird confrontation, they can’t talk so they could only give you hand gestures until Hoodie calmed you down enough to grab a piece of paper and pen

Safe to say… you were pissed. In a way. And that’s when you learn about everything. Who they are, what they’ve done, what they do and what Toby is

It bridges a lot of unanswered questions. Questions you never really asked cause again they make you feel so safe and secure your mind kinda just.. goes dumb around them

Hoodie is the most physically affectionate. And I mean.. rlly affectionate. Masky is very.. shy. He has to warm to you a bit before even sitting on the same sofa as you. But once he feels comfortable oh boy

It can be a bit… suffocating

Sometimes Masky will just come and lay on you. And while Masky/Tim aren’t super tall they ARE big boys with some hefty muscle and fat(dad bod Tim<3) … like their cocks OMG WHO

Date nights with Hoodie and Masky then become a thing. Typically at home dates since they feel more safe in their masks, like a barrier from the outside world and anything that can harm them

Masky is now the one bringing you rocks, sticks and shells

Hoodie brings you little flower crowns/rings

The boys LOVE seeing you in their clothes. Masky especially.. try not tease him too much

Jessica is definitely you’re bff, you both have scheduled girls dates to relax and just vent/rant about things and gossip

You also meet Jay but it’s very rare as Hoodie and Masky like to keep you away from them, ESPECIALLY Alex.

You learn to cook for Toby. He surprisingly very specific about very certain things. Not picky. Just specific (he’s picky)

Yeah Brian and Tim don’t let you 20ft from a forest. You are told to stay VERY clear from those and if you hear static not to look up

You learn basic first AID from Hoodie/Brian as Masky/Tim is the one that usually comes home the most hurt

NSFW!!

WOWZA.

Bro, you ain’t getting out of bed LMAO imma be so fr

CAN WE TALK ABOUT BODY-WORSHIP. like these boys will spend at least two fucking hours just worshipping you

Kisses, biting, eating you out, massaging you

THEY ARE SO

Crashing our sorry

First of all, they’re both the kind to like wining and dining first but, if you have those real needy needs, especially after they’ve been gone a while? Yeah you gon find out today

You are 100% between them in some way, shape and or form. And god are you getting CREAMPIED. Tim is definitely more open to cumming without a condom with Brian influencing him

Like the devil on his shoulder LOL

they’re just perverts with an unspoken cum fixation

WHO SAID THAT OMG

Now.. threesome with Masky and Hoodie? May you rest in piece. It’s Masky’s turn to influence Hoodie, making him a little more rougher and uncaring than usual. Wow do y’all have a lot of outdoor sex

PRAISE PRAISE PRAISE PRAISE

Having sex with Tim and Brian is actually so loving it’ll like make you puke. Ugh. #needthat. But also they’re both more than open to uhh.. exploration

HOODIE RECORDS EVERYTHING

Like I mean he edits that shit he is INVESTED

When they’re gone Hoodie will fr just send you videos un-announced a little “thinking about you<3” type thing

Perv

The aftercare; dude. No cause like it’s top tier

Candles, food, shower then a bubble bath afterwards. It’s godly. They will actually DoorDash whatever the fuck you want, spend that money babes they don’t care

That thang is worth every penny to them

LMFAOOO

They lovvvveeee cuddles, so much. Tim/Masky can actually be quite clingy and since Brian/Hoodie are so used to it they fr just encourage it. Sigh imagine laying between them<3

SOMEONE SEDATE ME😭

Brian will never admit it but he loves it when you get your nails done, loves seeing them all pretty wrapped around his cock

Tim lovvveeeessss hair, loves any and all new haircuts you get. Want to decide on a hairstyle? He’s your guy. He will wank that shit too if you have like even the smallest inch

Ngl, Tim’s usual spot is between you and Brian but after sex they both just love cuddling you, like I mean Tim will literally lay you on him and Brian will just be wrapped around you both. Good luck trynna breath

Brian is hiding sex toys that he’s too shy to bring up to you and Tim. Once you find them you actually tease the living hell out of him. Yeah, good luck using those on both of them

HELLO BRIAN/HOODIE PUTTING A REMOTE CONTROLLED VIB IN YA WHILE YOU GUY EAT OUT OR SOMETHING.

Please tell me I’m not the only one.

The mixture of praise and slight degrading/bulling between these two is actually chefs kiss. Delicious

All in all, being with these two is the highest form of honor really and your holes are definitely satisfied LOL

: ̗̀➛ Bro I wrote this forever ago and just like deadass got distracted LMAOOO @an-3moia this is for you pookie. Also y’all Tim will be getting his own fic soon. This will prob be the last fic I post for the day while I work on other things in my bat cave here. Good day my loves — Ace

[earlysunshines]

down for you

kang haerin x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you beg haerin to go to some party and 1. haerin hates parties 2. she wasn’t even invited… but if it’s you asking she’s always willing.

warnings: mentions of alcohol ; not my best work tee bee aych 💔 ; ermmm pining ; nothing else really ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: i haven't written for her yet bc no ideas LOL I prolly won't write much for her but!! this song is soooo her and the main inspo for this so yeah lololol enjoy :-p

haerin’s building is across campus from yours—a good walk and a few flights of stairs to be exact. regardless, she’s on her way there because you forgot your laptop case. 

does haerin have to be doing this? absolutely not. her building is a five minute walk from where you’ve parked, and you even told her it would be better to wait for you. still, haerin meets you halfway just so she can accompany you on the way back to your lecture room and then to your car. it’s extra cardio for haerin and more time for you, so she’s not complaining. 

“you didn’t have to come all the way here ‘rin.” you giggle, grabbing not only your laptop case, but also the pencil case you managed to forget as well. “the campus is huge.”

“it’s fine.” haerin simply responds, waiting for you to zip your bag and put it back on. she smiles when you do, then follows you back to your car—a good ten minute walk away.

the rest of the way back, haerin listens to you talk about your classes with her head tilted in your direction. when you step a little too close to the edge of the sidewalk, she reaches out, fingers catching the sleeve of your sweater in a small, familiar tug as she guids you back toward the center of the path. she keeps her eyes on your most of the way back, only glancing down once in a while when you glance back at her and to avoid tripping over the crack in the path that gets at least ten students a day. 

you two have had this routine since you became friends last semester: meeting up somewhere, walking back to the car together, and almost always studying or spending time together after your classes are over. 

(the only time you two aren’t together is when you’re in your respective buildings, time that both of you dread—it doesn’t make any sense that the engineering and public health buildings are so distanced… they’re on the same wavelength, no?)

when you finally reach your car, you’re still mid-conversation, the rhythm is easygoing just as always. but then you say something that makes haerin falter.

“i know you’re not really a party person… but my friends invited me to one this friday and they really want to meet you.”

she pauses, fingers hovering over the passenger door handle. “me?”

“yeah, you.”

she blinks, settling herself into the seat beside you. “why… me?”

“i told them about you.” you grin as if the answer is obvious.

“actually?”

“how could i not? you’re my closest friend, haerin.” you glance over at her, smiling. “it’s just a small party thing, and i wanted you to be there.”

a lot is running through haerin’s mind. why would you mention her to your friends? is this party so important that she has to go? who are these ‘friends’? what will the party be like? haerin shivers a bit. the thought of being surrounded by new people, forced into small talk, makes her a bit uneasy. there is no way she is going to this party.

but then you lean in a little, tilting your head, eyes bright and expectant, and suddenly it’s hard to say no.

“we’ll just drop by,” you add quickly, like you can sense the hesitation in the way her jaw tightens and look averts. “just for a bit. and after, i’ll treat you to ice cream.” you promise.

she doesn’t have to go to this party, but you can’t lie that after so much time with her it’s hard when she’s not at arms length your friends have even rolled their eyes at the mere mention of her just because you always have something to say about her—whether it’s something simple or unrelated to whatever you and your friends were talking about earlier.

the amount of time you spend with haerin is enough to lead to the inevitable: growing feelings. how could you not grow fond of haerin in a way that’s more than platonic? she’s pretty, soft-spoken, and caring. she caught you by surprise that moment you bumped into her during your first day of university, and now she’s someone you can’t imagine being away from. you even call her almost every night.

plus, what you feel is the same on haerin’s end. she noticed you immediately, and the fact that you two are even this close still baffles her. she’d never admit anything, though. there is nothing other than her not-so-subtle looks and actions that could reveal what she truly feels.

she bites the inside of her cheek. haerin does not want to go. but you give her the look and she crumbles at how pretty you look. she can already picture you smiling at her over a cup of ice cream afterward, laughing about whatever might happen at the party.

haerin sighs, pretending to be reluctant when she mumbles, “i mean, i guess. if you want me there… then i’ll go.”

your sigh of relief is immediate, and before haerin can brace herself, you’re leaning over and wrapping your arms around her in a quick, excited hug. she stiffens for half a second, caught off guard, before her body relaxes against yours.

she smiles into you, taking in the scent of your signature peachy scent; haerin doesn’t need a mirror to know that her face is burning. 

—

haerin is in another situation that has her face burning once more.

she’s tends to get sleepy when she’s around you, especially when you both are cozy in your bed. it didn’t take long for her to pass out on your bed once you both finished studying. usually she wakes up to either you sleeping, studying, or doomscrolling. this time it’s doomscrolling.

her little shuffle gets your attention; the pressure around your waist loosening makes you hum. you turn to see haerin blinking a few times, then rubbing her eyes.

“hey.” you giggle.

“hi.” haerin responds sleepily, letting her body go limp again as she tries to take her leg out from between both of yours—you tug her leg back, keeping it there. it’s a little intimate for ‘just friends,’ definitely. but haerin feels all warm inside and you’re, well, just you, so she doesn’t complain. you don’t seem to mind either.

“you were out for like, an hour.”

“was i?”

“mhm.” you say as you turn to face her. her eyes are a little puffy, but it’s not that noticeable, more cute than noticeable if anything. you move her hair out of her face and smile, snuggling a little closer. “you’re so pretty.”

she laughs nervously. “i just woke up.”

“yeah, and you’re pretty.”

haerin is way too sleepy to deal with this, so she instead thanks the dimmed room for concealing her blush and closes her eyes once more. her smile lingers as she moves to face the ceiling, and it deepens when she feels you scooting closer.

“what time is it?” she asks.

“five.” you mumble, yawning lightly. “party is at seven.”

oh. haerin has completely forgotten about the party after being so comfortable, and now, the sudden realization shakes her awake.

“but let’s nap a little more, i’m comfy.” you insist.

haerin is anything but sleepy right now. “are you sure we shouldn’t be getting ready? what’s the dress code? do we have to look flashy?”

“relax,” you say, draping your arm over her. “it’s just a house party. baggy jeans and a t-shirt would be more than enough if i’m going to be honest. it’s casual, nothing crazy.”

“okay…”

—

okay, maybe you shouldn’t go to that party. 

haerin just walked out of your room in a simple outfit—just like you had said—but wow, she looks so good you think that maybe you should keep her here for yourself. her hair is still a little messy from her nap as well, so she’s tied it up. you always liked her with her hair up, and down… you like her with any hairstyle.

“do i look okay for the—”

“yes.” you cut off her question. “very.” you walk over, look her up and down, then snap a picture for safe keeping.

“what was that for?”

“you look really good, haerin.”

“oh.” she says flatly, feeling a lump form in her throat. “you do too.” 

you both smile at each other for another moment, feeling the weight of the tension push you two down. 

“let’s go?” you ask, lingering in front of her.

“yeah.”

…

there’s a strange stiffness in every part of your body as you drive to the destination. haerin is in the passenger seat on her phone looking like that, like she’s just been pulled out of a magazine. at each red light you try to steal a glimpse of her, silently in awe.

once you arrive, the party is already in full swing when you and haerin step in. the music vibrates lowly throughout the air, voices overlap in bursts of laughter, and conversation accompanies the house-type tune.

your friend haewon appears out of nowhere, beaming as she throws her arms around you in a tight hug. you laugh, hugging her back just as eagerly.

“y/n! i’m glad you could make it.” haewon beams. 

“i knew you loved me.”

“okay, not too much now…” she jokes, pulling away and turning to haerin, giving her a much smaller, polite hug. haerin barely has time to react before she pulls away, grinning.

“you must be haerin?”

haerin blinks, nodding slowly. “yeah.” her voice is calm, unreadable, but you catch her ears turning pink and the way her fingers twitch slightly at her sides.

haewon gives you a knowing look before disappearing into the kitchen. 

haerin exhales, subtle but sharp, and you glance over at her. she already looks a little overwhelmed, her shoulders tense, eyes scanning the room like she’s trying to find an escape route.

you nudge her shoulder before moving further inside, holding her hand as you do so. your shoulders stay close, touching, and she doesn’t pull away. instead, she stays close, like you’re the only steady thing in this chaos of the party.

“we’ll stay just for a bit,” you assure. “i just need to say hi to some people, have small talk, and before you know we’ll be at the ice cream place you like.”

she nods, her hand tightening around yours. “okay, just a bit.”

—

it has not been just a bit. it’s been nearly an hour—fourty-seven minutes to be exact.

(haerin has been checking her phone each time you run into a new person.)

she would be lying if this whole thing weren’t interesting, though the best part about meeting all these people is them mentioning how much you mention her and watching your blush grow.

“we’ll be talking about the menu at a restaurant and she’ll mention you. i remember we were getting dessert and she pointed to something going, ‘haerin loves this.’” one of your friends jokes. “you two aren’t dating, no?”

both you and haerin simultaneously freeze, with you breaking the awkwardness with a laugh. “i– no.” you push his shoulder. 

“okay, but you do talk about her a lot.” another friend nudges, grinning. 

you blink. “do i really?”

“yeah, so much.” 

haerin shifts beside you, her usual composure slipping just slightly as she looks down. there’s a small smile on her face as she pretends to be interested in the hem of her sleeve.

the topic changes before either of you fully acknowledge it, too attentive to the tension. there’s a small warmth lingering in your chest—half embarrassment, half something else.

the rest of the night consists of haerin following you around as you bump into others, and as the night goes on the more unbearable it gets. you seem to be meeting people who aren’t your friends, maybe acquaintances? classmates? whoever they are, you seem to be completely oblivious to how often they flirt with you. 

here and there they’ll lean in, laugh a little too hard at your jokes, and angle their bodies toward you like they’re waiting for a moment to catch your attention. it’s so blatantly obvious that the past three people have been trying to please you, but you don’t notice.

haerin notices. she notices everything, but she doesn’t say anything. she just keeps her expression neutral as she stays close. she takes it because she promised herself to get through this just for you, just for tonight.

but then there’s him. 

some guy—intak, you think? some guy you recognize from your introduction to kinesiology class—confident from the drinks in his system, slides up next to you. his smile is a little too easy as he leans in, voice dropping to something lower, more deliberate. 

“wow, you’re stealing the spotlight here, you know?”

you laugh, oblivious, waving him off. “that’s not true.”

“no, seriously. you’re gorgeous.” he gives you a smirk, winking in a way that makes your brows turn in confusion. “we have a class together—kinesiology and public health analytics—i see you and i can’t help but think you’re going to the be the reason i fail. you’re so pretty.”

“aw, that’s not true.” you chuckle nervously.

he moves his hand, not quite touching you, but close enough that haerin stiffens beside you.

and that’s when haerin decides she’s had enough.

her hand snakes around your waist, pulling you away from him and earning a confused, defeated look from the guy. you turn to her in surprise at the sudden action, and also because wow your heart is beating fast from that. 

“ice cream?” she reminds you, her voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “you promised.”

you glance at her, the weight of her hand on your chest grounding you just as much as it flusters. it’s only then that you realize how long you’ve actually been at this party. 

“oh—right. okay, let’s go.”

she pulls you in closer, leading you toward the door and out, her fingers warm against you. 

—

“i’m sorry for keeping you cooped up there so long, i lost track of time.” you apologize, starting the engine of your car. 

“it’s fine.” haerin lies, sinking in the seat and turning away from you. her words feel flat, like an automatic response rather than the truth. 

anyone else would believe her, but you know her well enough to recognize the subtle signs—how she tugs at her sleeves, how her fingers tap against her knee impatiently, how she shifts just slightly as if trying to make herself smaller. you don’t push her, instead focusing on the road, letting the silence settle between you.

the drive to the ice cream shop is quiet, and when you finally park, haerin barely glances at the menu before mumbling, “strawberry is fine.”

you don’t comment on how unenthusiastic she sounds, just get the order and hand her the cup before grabbing your own little cup of mint chocolate chip. she takes it with a quiet “thanks,” and the two of you sit in your car, parked beneath a streetlight that casts a dim glow.

usually, your silences with haerin are comfortable and easy. but this one is suffocating, even the soft hum of music doesn’t ease the tension.

something unspoken lingers, and you let it continue to hang in the air for a bit, hoping she’ll say something first. she doesn’t.

with a sigh, you lower the volume of the music and glance at her. 

“okay.” you say, breaking the silence. “why are you so moody? is it because of the party? if you didn’t want to go you didn’t have to. you should’ve just told me.”

haerin’s grip on her spoon tightens, her gaze fixed on the half-melted ice cream. “i’m just tired.”

you stare at her, unimpressed. “why are you lying to me?”

she exhales through her nose but doesn’t respond. shifting in your seat, you turn fully toward her, searching her face. “i know something is up. did my friends say something off? what is it? i’ve never seen you like this before.”

she stays quiet, biting down and tensing her jaw. for a moment, you wonder if she’s going to brush you off again.

haerin exhales sharply, setting her ice cream down in the cup holder before finally turning to face you. “do people always flirt with you like that?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden question. “huh?”

she scoffs, shaking her head. “you’re so oblivious,” she mutters. “everyone at that party—everyone but your actual friends—was flirting with you, and you didn’t even notice. you barely even reacted to intak. if i hadn’t pulled you away, you probably would’ve stayed there without a clue.”

you furrow your brows, trying to recall the interactions from earlier. “i mean… i just thought they were being nice.” you say slowly.

haerin lets out a humorless laugh, like she can’t believe how clueless you are. 

you tilt your head at her, watching the way she pokes at her ice cream aggressively even if it’s half soup at this point. “why is it such a big deal?”

“it’s— it’s not.” she looks away, but there’s something in her tone, something in the way her fingers tighten around the fabric of her top.

you narrow your eyes. “wait—” you lean in slightly, voice dropping. “are you jealous?” it almost sounds like you’re teasing, but the curiosity in your tone is overpowering.

haerin stiffens, the tips of her ears turning red. “no, why would i be jealous?”

that’s a lie.

your eyes widen as realization dawns, and you nudge her arm, your teasing smile growing. “you are jealous.”

she glares at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but you can see the way she swallows hard like she’s debating whether to keep denying it or not. you’ve never seen her so nervous.

you press further, pushing past the hesitation between you. “why would you even be jealous over people flirting with me?”

haerin exhales, long and slow, before finally mumbling, “because…”

“because?” you echo, urging her to continue.

“it just— i can’t, y/n. can we go home? my things are at your place and i need to get home.”

“it’s a friday.”

“y/n, please.”

you frown, deciding to stop yourself from pressing on further to keep haerin from getting overwhelmed again. you hesitate before shifting the car to ‘drive,’ catching haerin turning her body away from you completely in your peripheral.

—

it’s completely silent from there on out. whatever happened in the car was the closest thing you’ve ever gotten to a fight with her, and you don’t know how to deal with it. when you reach your place, you unlock the door and let haerin go first, not exchanging a single word. 

haerin immediately grabs her bag from where she left it near your desk. she moves with purpose, like she’s trying to get out of here as soon as possible, but you can’t just let her leave like that. not when she’s in your place.

“haerin,” you call, and when she doesn’t turn, you step closer. “are you seriously jealous over people flirting with me?”

she huffs, finally looking at you. “it’s ridiculous, right?”

“yeah,” you say as you cross your arms. “you’re the most gorgeous, amazing person i know. they should’ve been flirting with you instead, i don’t know why they were doing it with me.”

haerin’s eyes widen slightly, her lips parting like she wasn’t expecting that. your assumption starts to make sense in her head: you think that she’s jealous because people were flirting with you and not her. you’re completely off, and before she can interrupt, you start again.

“i saw some people checking you out too. i overheard people saying that you’re pretty from my friends while you went to the bathroom and—” you step closer. “why would you ever be jealous over people flirting with me?”

she lets go of her bag now, jaw clenching before she finally exhales. “it’s not because they were flirting with you,” she mutters. “or because i want to be flirted with.” she shakes her head, eyes meeting yours with something raw in them. “it’s because they can say all of this while i can’t.” 

your breath catches. 

haerin licks her lips, voice quieter now. “i like you.” she swallows, avoiding eye contact. “i’ve been stressing about it for the past month or two. and tonight just… seeing ho weasily people say those things to you, knowing i’ve been thinking you’re so pretty and sweet before they even—” she exhales sharply. “i hate when people flirt with you because i like you.”

your heart stutters in your chest. the weight of her words turns a gear in your brain. everything feels real, and you suddenly feel breathless. kang haerin likes you. 

“haerin,” you murmur. “i— you do?”

“i’m sorry.” 

“no, no.” you stop her, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just— everytime i’d see people looking at you like… i don’t know, like they wanted you or something, i’d get this weird jealousy as well.”

“why?” haerin questions.

“haerin, i like you too.” you admit through an exasperated chuckle. “i go out of my way to spend time with you and everything because i like you. sometimes we’re laying in my bed or getting food together and i think, i just, i always wished it were something more than platonic.”

her breath catches, taken aback by the sudden confession. her eyes search yours for any sign that you’re messing with her, but all she finds is sincerity. 

“you do?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

“haerin, i like you so much.”

and then she exhales, relief and something softer washing over her features. she steps over to hug you, burying her face in your neck.

“i’m— i’m sorry for being so moody.”

“it’s okay.” you laugh, hugging her tightly. “i would’ve been the same if someone were flirting with you.”

you two pull away then, hands still on each other and faces now inches apart. everything around you stops, but the beating in your heart speeds up when you’re met with her features. 

on impulse, you sneak a quick kiss, pulling away immediately and feeling your cheeks burn. 

haerin’s eyes widen before she giggles, moving her hands to cup your cheeks properly and kissing you sweetly. the taste of strawberry ice cream lingers on her lips, making the moment sweeter. she parts, her lips ghosting yours, and you smile.

“are we moving too fast?” you ask.

“i– i don’t know. i’ve never… i—” you cut haerin off with another kiss, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“i think this is fine. i wanted to um… do this before we left my place but…”

haerin laughs, smiling at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “well now you can… do it as much as you’d like. i like you a lot y/n.”

“i like you a lot too, haerin.”

[littelovelunette]

reader begging sevika to put a baby in them...

Shimmer And Silence G!P

Contains smut, breeding, biting, nipple play, impregnation, mentions of drug and addiction, blowjob

Sevika has always been hard headed and never gave into your desires too quickly but she never understood if it was for the best or not.

Shimmer often made her cranky and violent from time to time and being her wife, you didn't like that she made herself get high on the drug so damn often due to her loyalty and work for Silco.

It hurt, because despite wanting to settle down badly you could barely even imagine bringing the topic up to her because what if she didn't approve of your needs and had a Shimmer crashout.

Sighing to yourself, you made the bed as usual and got to doing the chores. You were used to your housewife routine by now.

You'd work at home and ensure she had a clean and cozy place to come back and rest, by the time she's done fighting for Zaun for the day.

You'd approach the topic again today and try to get her to understand that you wanted to settle down.

It had been 5 years you both were married together after all and in all honesty, whether Zaun got free or not life wouldn't pause so you both could settle and find happiness within the battles.

You finished all your work and took a shower, it was evening by then. Sevika was probably gambling after work, she'd be back soon. Maybe drunk, maybe not.

You put on one of your lacy white panties and the matching bra you bought along with it, slipping on one oversized t-shirt over the underwear, you didn't feel like wearing anything else for now.

The door opened and Sevika walked inside, “I'm home,” she called lazily, she didn't go to Last Drop which was a little strange.

Maybe she was just tired.

“Hi, baby,” you smiled and helped her take her poncho off, she walked to the bedroom after giving you a brief kiss, getting out of her clothes.

She laid down and you went over to her, sitting down beside her, “Baby, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sevika gave you a little nod to acknowledge your words and gesture that she was listening.

“I think we should start trying for kids.”

The silence sunk in the air around both of you. “Did you just say what I think you just said? Or am I mishearing things already?” Sevika asked, her tone a little condescending.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and responded, “I just feel that if we don't, y'know, I'm not getting any younger… I might not be able to even have children. We don't know what the future holds for us,” you placed one hand over her bigger one, rubbing your thumb over the calloused skin, “The battle won't pause so we can have children, please, this is the one thing I really want.”

Sevika stared at you for a while before sighing, shaking her head. “I don't think this is a good idea.”

Exasperated, you shifted so you were now on her lap, “Baby, please,” you said, cupping her face in both your hands as you sighed a little feeling her bulge against your clothed heat.

“You're a tease, y'know that?” Sevika slapped your ass, grabbing the lump of flesh and squeezing, “Fine, I'll give it some thought.”

“No, you always say that and then your mind changes,” you moved a little so her growing bulge could rub against the soaked spot on your panties.

“Just say it, you get off on the thought of me breeding you,” Sevika whispered in your ear, instantly catching you off guard. She grabbed you by your frame and shoved you down on the bed.

“Look, you even dressed up all pretty tonight,” Sevika smirked, raising the hem of the shirt to check out the underwear you had on.

“I just, I thought maybe there'd be a possibility,” you said, face growing hotter with the second.

Sevika tsked, “Bullshit, I bet you're so wet by the thought of me filling you up, filthy little whore having semen dripping from your holes because you can't even hold all of my load inside.”

Sevika's rough, thick fingers rubbed over your pussy, as if readying it for her massive cock. She pulled her pants down just enough for her cock to slap up against her stomach, precum dripping from the tip of her impressively massive shaft.

“Oh my…” you couldn't help reaching forward and grabbing her shaft carefully in your hands.

Sevika placed a hand over her hip, the mechanical arm holding you in place as you started sucking on the tip of her cock.

“Want me to suck you off?” You asked, looking up at her with those pretty puppy eyes and she nodded, guiding your head as you deepthroated her cock with years of experience.

Sevika gasped, fingers entangling themselves in your hair as you sucked her harder. You had to hold on to each side of her muscular thighs to steady yourself as you bobbed your head, the head of her cock slamming into the back of your throat every now and then making you gag and saliva messily ran down your chin giving you a further lewd expression.

Sevika, on the other hand, was having the time of her life. She used your head roughly to get herself off, shooting ropes of cum in your throat, forcing you to swallow it down.

Sevika smirked down at you as you pulled back, catching your breath from the ordeal and then she gestured to you to get on the bed. As you laid down, she undressed you, taking your shirt off, unhooking your bra and lastly pulling your panties down your legs. Sevika was being extra slow just for the sole reason of riling you up and getting you even more wet.

“Sevika, please, put a baby in me,” you began, “I need you to impregnate me, please, I need it.”

“Mhm? Do you need it?” Sevika mocked cock already aligning against your hole and going in with a single thrust.

Your eyes rolled back as she bottomed out and pulled right back out before slamming it back in, hitting that on sweet spot that back you scratch on her back and bite her shoulder.

Sevika loved it when you bit her shoulder like that, it made you wilder and she loved rough sex. Sevika started slamming her huge shaft into you, grunting from the strain of her muscles every now and then, “Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up to the brim,” she mumbled under her breath, the headboard of the bed slammed against the wall and you were sure the neighbours would likely come down with a noise complaint.

You buried the thought down, crying as Sevika bit your nipple, pulling it with her teeth, “C-C-cumming!” You stuttered and a gush of liquid went over her length, making her eyes close in bliss but she didn't stop there.

She continued ramming into your pussy, her dick throbbing, “Gonna fill you up, take it, slut.” You gasped as you felt the warm semen fill you up, moaning loudly, legs and hands falling back onto the mattress.

You were gonna be a mother soon.

[jikooklove9795]

The MMA 2018 seating arrangement switch is one of those moments that perfectly encapsulates why so many people (including those who are reluctant to see them in a romantic light) find Jungkook and Jimin's dynamic fascinating. Its not just about the visual contrast in Jungkook's expressions but what it suggests about his comfort level and emotional state when Jimin is near.

We also got to see this on this same night:

The way he glares at them 🤭

Let's get back to the topic.

Before Jimin sits next to Jungkook, he looks composed but somewhat serious or detached. Almost like he's passively existing in the moment. He's physically present but not necessaring expressive.

After Jimin sits next to Jungkook his whole demeanor changes instantly. His posture becomes more relaxed, his facial expressions become livelier and there's an unmissable light in his eyes. Its like a silent but obvious Oh, you're here! moment.

This is more fascinating and interesting because it is a natural, unconscious reaction. The fact that his expression changes so naturally and effortlessly suggests that Jimin genuinely affects his mood.

We all have people who make us feel instantly at ease. The way Jungkook responds to Jimin's presence is so automatic that it feels deeply ingrained. It suggests that Jimin is a personal source of comfort for him. Jimin brings out a side of Jungkook that is warm, free and full of joy.

Sometimes the strongest bonds don't need words. The way his body language adjusts and how his face softens says a lot. Its in the subtle details that you see the real connection.

This isn't an isolated incident. There have been multiple instances where Jungkook's mood or energy seems to brighten around Jimin.

Here's a few instances which shows how Jimin's presence and absence affects Jungkook:

1) Jungkook's "Jimin is here" and "You're here. Finally" when finally they got the opportunity to spend extended time together (I'm sure they spent time together before AYS but that time was too short due to their demanding schedules)

His bright face and excited smile. He was so happy to spend time with Jimin after all those stunts he pulled on his lives to get Jimin to come to him

2) Jungkook not knowing what to do when Jimin goes to bath in AYS Jeju

3) Jungkook not even wanting to talk about ms when it was uncertain if their request for companion program be will be approved and then there's the same Jungkook talking about their ms in AYS Jeju once their application was approved:

4) Jungkook's words here:

Why would he say this?

Surely he's been on many trips. Even in 2023 apart from those trips for AYS with Jimin he went on other trips with his friends. So why would he say the trips for AYS were the best?

Because it was with Jimin. That's what made it the best experience for him. Traveling and exploring with his bf.

Its for this same reason we get to see a shift in Jungkook's demeanor after the seat switch in MMA 2018.

Jungkook is naturally close with all the BTS members and he has many other friendships outside of BTS but there's no denying there's something unique and deep about the way he interacts with Jimin.

We have seen how even in group settings Jungkook often ends up near Jimin. Whether its at award shows, interviews or casual moments he naturally gravitates to Jimin.

Jungkook is affectionate with all the members but his level of touchiness and physical comfort with Jimin is distinct. He often leans on Jimin, seeks out hugs or casual touches. He is protective around Jimin, loves to cook for him and doesn't hesitate to show his emotions openly when they're together.

If it weren't for Jimin I don't think we would have gotten to see Jungkook's naturally uninhibited, warm, affectionate and romantic side.

Credits to the owner of the video

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do smth where Chris and reader’s relationship is private (family knows just not social media) and in the most recent video you can see Chris touching readers hips and lower back, in the view of the camera and nick didn’t notice while editing it.

yesss! and somebody put to stop tagging smut #’s on my post with a child reader , and thank uu for saying that bc i wasn’t even looking at the tags i just put anything that said sturniolo on it😭 so sorry again .

“Caught on Camera”

Chris Sturniolo x y/n

Warnings : none

Chris and Y/N had been together for months now, but no one outside their close circle knew. Their relationship was something they wanted to keep just for themselves—no internet, no fan speculation, just them. Matt and Nick were in on it, of course, but the rest of the world? Completely clueless.

That’s why neither of them thought twice when they filmed their latest YouTube video—a casual Q&A while sitting around in the living room, laughing and joking like always. Chris, as always, found excuses to be near Y/N, whether it was leaning into her when he laughed or resting his arm behind her on the couch. It was second nature at this point.

A few days later, Nick edited the video like usual, chopping out dead space and lining up the cuts. He didn’t overanalyze the footage—he had done this a million times. Once he was done, he uploaded it, and they all went about their day.

Then, the comments started rolling in.

“Did anyone else notice Chris’s hand on Y/N’s hip at 12:42???”

“Wait, am I crazy or is Chris HELLA touchy with Y/N in this video? 👀”

“Guys, go to 15:10. HIS HAND. HIS HAND.”

Chris was scrolling on his phone when he saw the comments. His stomach dropped. “Oh, shit.”

Y/N, sitting beside him, furrowed her brows. “What?”

He turned his phone to show her. The comment section was flooded with people analyzing their every move. Fans were rewatching the video, timestamping moments where Chris had absentmindedly placed his hand on Y/N’s lower back or rested it on her hip while shifting positions. It wasn’t even that obvious—at least, he didn’t think so—but the fans had noticed.

Before Y/N could react, Nick walked into the room, phone in hand. “Bro, are you seeing these comments?”

Chris sighed. “Yeah.”

Matt trailed in behind Nick, looking amused. “How did you not notice this when you edited the video?”

Nick groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Dude, I was just cutting clips, not analyzing where your hands were the whole time. My bad.”

Y/N was trying not to laugh at how worked up Chris looked. “It’s not that bad,” she said, nudging him. “People are just speculating. We don’t have to say anything.”

Chris exhaled, nodding. “Yeah, I guess.”

Nick smirked. “Or you could just admit it and save me from having to edit around your hand placement every time we film.”

Chris threw a pillow at him, making everyone burst into laughter.

“Guess we’ll just be more careful next time,” Y/N said, smiling up at Chris.

Chris shrugged, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Or not.”

And with that, their little secret was safe—at least for now.

[colorfulwastelandvoid]

In defense of MelJay

I just need to say this…SHUT UP! Yall are all tap dancing on my last nerve.I’m am at my wits end with this fandom. Every time I think we take one step forward some dufus pushes us two steps back.

Okay. I’m arguing with a JayVik shipper on TikTok who says MelJay is boring and toxic. I am about to explode this shit can’t still be the main conversation about this ship.

So first off MelJay is “boring”. This isn’t unique to JayVik nor is it the first time someone has said this about MelJay, but I always find it weird when people say certain ships are boring. The ships in question are usually just chill and communicative so there is no needless drama. This probably relates more to online fandoms’ obsession with romanticizing toxicity but I digress. It’s weird that the tension and political intrigue,something of which yall claim to love about the show overall, is in someway boring. The fact they are not constantly arguing or disregarding each other was nice cause I hate that those interactions are normalized in fandom in regard to romantic ships. If one of them had something to say then they would just say it and they would discuss it and move on like a normal couple. There is a lot to digest with them though as separate characters and as a couple. While Mel and Jayce are similar they obviously are not exactly alike. Mel it’s a lot more closed off and tempered and Jayce is more emotionally open and is hot headed. Both want to do good and have enough ambition to do so. It is their methods that differentiate them. Mel is more comfortable working behind the scenes whereas Jayce runs head first. These little differences offers up moments of character growth for both these characters. Mel started to become more aggressive (she was never docile) in her emotions and tactics where Jayce became more level headed.

The second one is that they are toxic. I’m going to keep this part short cause I already addressed this multiple times on this tumblr, so I’ll just bring up my highlights. Mel was not manipulating Jayce throughout their whole relationship. The only times where we see her manipulations is with Hoskel , but f him who cares about that man, and Jayce during progress day when they weren’t even together and Viktor wanted Jayce to do the same thing Mel was asking him to do. He didn’t even listen to her either. Mel and Jayce were genuinely attracted to one another so no she didn’t eventually fall for him she liked him from the first kiss. After a certain point we must recognize that Jayce was coming to Mel for advice and she gave it. Whether he listened to her or not. The investment line, an investment to Mel is not the same as investment to Jayce. An investment to Mel is like an action word. She invested in Hextech cause she genuinely believed in Jayce and Viktors ability to do good and she wanted to help similar to how a parent invest in their child, not because they think they’ll get something in return but because they love and believe in their kid. Jayce knows that, hence why he apologized for insinuating otherwise.

A lot of the so called toxicity the fandom claims they see is cause no one is meaningfully engaging with Mel or Jayce as characters but are just trying to get them to work in whatever ship they see fit.

Listen at the end of the day ship who you want but how you ship is gonna get your critiqued. For the love of anything that’s holy engage with the characters as their own separate entities. Your ships will thank you for it.

Ps I doubt this will be the last time some one will piss me off about Mel, Jayce or their relationship but I’m trying to keep this page more happy, for a lack of better words,so I’m trying not to rant to much. I got one more though. It’ll be way shorter though.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Vans Valentines - Sugar

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

Valentine Masterlist

A/N: Apologies if this seems short and rushed! I don't have a lot of time this week, but I still want to put stuff out since it IS heart week!! Also no graphics for this one either until I get the time to catch up oopsie

Plot: You and Logan don't do much for Valentines, but you decide to surprise him with something sweet

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI thank you :), unprotected PiV, sweet talk from Logan (he does a lot of praising), cream pie, lingerie, some breast play, romance :)

Word Count: 1890

“Sugar?” 

Logan's voice called out for you, as he stepped into your makeshift living space in the old factory. He held a bouquet of roses in one hand, that he stopped and grabbed for you before he made his final drive back to the factory. 

Neither of you did much for Valentines in the few years you’ve been together, but he always made a point to do something nice for you. Whether it was some flowers or some of your favorite chocolate, or just a nice gift. In return, you’d always either got him a set of cigars, and made his favorite dinner. It was a little tradition. 

Admittedly, Logan wished he could do more for you. With everything you do for him and Charles, he wanted to truly show his appreciation. The ache in his bones, and his work schedule tends to exhaust him before he could truly plan or think of something.

He immediately noticed something was weird by how dark the place was. Even if you went to bed before he came home- a rare event- you would’ve at least left a few lights on for him. He sniffed the air- he could still smell you, so you were here. There was a scent of your perfume too, stronger than usual.

He carefully made his way to the bedroom, staring at the door that was closed- also strange. 

“Sugar?” He called out, opening the door and stepping inside. His brows raised in surprise, as he took in the sight before him.

You were lying on your side in a provocative pose, adorning a sexy piece of light pink lingerie. A top that barely concealed your breasts, with a light see through cloth that floated over your belly, complete with lace panties attached to thigh garters. There were red candles and tealights that illuminated around the room, creating a romantic ambiance that made you glow as you sat up on the bed, smiling at him.

You bit your lip, as you felt your face heat up as he stared at you. “Hi love.” You greet him softly. “I just…wanted to do something nice for you.” 

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah?” A small smile appeared on his lips as he stepped into the room. He could feel his trousers getting tighter in the crotch each step he took towards you. “Wanted to look pretty for your old man?” He asks as he stepped up to the mattress. 

You nodded, blinking innocently up at him and he grinned, before pulling up the bouquet of flowers that was at his side. You smiled bright at the roses, taking them in your hands as you sniffed them. “Lo! They’re beautiful…” You smiled up at him, but he already leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. He grabbed the bouquet, dropping them to the side as he pushed you down on the bed, climbing over you. 

“You’re beautiful sugar...” He murmurs softly against your lips. You giggle, bringing your hands up to cup his face as he pecked your lips over and over, before moving to kiss your neck. You sighed contently as you arched your back against him. His thigh came between your legs, and you began grinding your core against him. “Hope you weren’t waiting long doll..” He says apologetically as he lifted his head up to look at you. 

“I’d wait forever for you Lo.” You say softly, scratching as his beard. A soft smile spread on his face. You sat up, gently pushing him off you so you could straddle him. You slowly began undoing his shirt, carefully unbuttoning each button as his hands came up to rest on your hips and looked up at you lovingly. 

Unbuttoning his shirt revealed his wife beater he wears underneath. He sat up, letting you pull off the button-up shirt and wife beater, revealing his broad, scarred chest that you pressed your hands against, running it through his chest hair. You gently pushed him back down as you began to press kisses over his chest, kissing along the various scars that littered his body. A soft sigh escaped him. 

“You deserve better sweetheart.” He mutters softly. You stopped, a frown on your face as lean up so you were face to face with him. 

“What did we say about that?” You raised an eyebrow at him. He chuckled. 

“That it’s true?” 

You scowled and he chuckled warmly. “You’re cute when you make that face.”

“Logan.” You say in a warning tone. 

“Alright alright.” He hums his hands running over your thighs, tugging at the garters hugging your thighs. The snap against your skin, making your thighs flinch. He chuckled warmly. “I’ll drop it for tonight.”

You smiled. “You’re gonna drop it forever. I don’t wanna hear that from you again.” You say leaning down to press a kiss to his nose. He chuckled. 

“Yes ma’am.” He said in a low tone, before grinning, his hand smoothing over your thigh over to your ass, and then smacking it. You yelped and he let out a loud laugh at your reaction. You smiled shaking your head and kissing him posessively. You began grinding your hips over his, you wet cunt running over his trousers, where you rubbed against his hard erection. “Damn.” He mumbled into your lips. 

He brought his hands up to cup your face, kissing you again, licking your bottom lip for entrance that you allow him. His beard scratched at your skin, but in a way you loved. “I’m sweet on you sugar…” He mumbles over your lips. “Getting yourself all dolled up for me like this…” He breathed, his hand cupping your cheek. 

“You deserve it Lo. You deserve only good things.”

His expression softened as he stared up at you with fondness. You smiled, sitting up from him, your hands on his chest, smoothing over his hard pecs. 

You brought your hands down to his trousers while he watched, undoing his pants and pushing them down as far as you could. You bit your lip as you saw his hard cock straining against his boxers, wetness staining where his tip was. 

Peeling his boxers back, his cock jumped out, the tip hitting his stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, the vein that started at his stomach and traveled up onto his cock towards the tip. Your hand reached out, gripping him and giving him a few small strokes, biting your lower lip as you felt how he throbbed against your hand. 

“Go on baby. Take what you want.” He urges. 

You moved forward, resting you clothed cunt rub against him as you began to roll your hips back and forth. You could feel his pre-cum leaking out, soaking into your panties, already soaked by your arousal. 

“You’re soaked darling.” He hums, putting his hands on your thighs again, squeezing them as you continued rolling over his cock. His breath began to pick up, as your rolled your hips faster. “C’mon sugar, I need to feel that sweet pussy.” 

Your breath hitched. He has such a way with words.

You sat up, and he reached over to pull your lacey panties out of the way, then grabbed the base of his cock, holding himself up so you could lower down on him. A sharp gasped escaped you as you felt his tip pushed into your entrance.

“Oh Lo-” You moaned tipping your head back as you lowered yourself onto him, feeling himself deeper and deeper inside you until he bottomed out.

“Fuck.” He cursed. “C’mere, give me some sugar.” He groans, his adams apple bobbing his throat as he tipped his head back, staring up at you pleadingly. You leaned forward, pressing your lips on his, and his hands grabbed your hips, slowly leading you to move up and down his cock. “Feel so good for me darling - you’re my good girl.” 

You let out a small whine against his lips, your hands gripping at the bedsheets on either side of his head. You rolled your hips, going faster against him but he stopped you from picking up to much pace. 

“Slow down baby. I ain’t going anywhere.” He chuckled warmly. His laugh shot straight down your spine, clenching around his cock, making him growl. “Yeah, I’m staying right here. Just enjoy it.” he purred. His eyes trailed over the lingerie you were wearing. “Pretty girl you are…” He muttered, as if he was talking to himself. His hands moved to grope your breasts, squeezing them and rubbing his thumbs over your peaked nipples. He tugged the bralette down, exposing your tits that bounced every time you moved and he let out a small whine by how lovely you looked.

The candles lit in the room illuminated your figure perfectly, bathing you in a warm glow that made you look ethereal. Your skin was glowing, your face contorted in heavenly pleasure. He didn’t know how or why you chose to stay with him. He was a cranky old asshole, who brought more harm than good in this world yet for some reason you doted on him like he was the most beautiful thing you ever soon. 

That’s okay though, he was smitten with you too.

You did your best staying at a steady pace, his large hands on your hips as he helped you move up and down on him. You tipped your head back, rolling your hips against his again, making him hitch his breath. “Lo- You feel so good…” You whined.

“You’re fucking amazing baby.” He muttered. “I’m so damn lucky. How’d I get you? Huh?” 

His hand came up around your cheek, moving down to the back of your neck, pulling you down to kiss him again. “Stay close pretty girl.” 

His hips began thrusting into you. You moaned his name, arching your back, angling yourself so he would hit that spot that curled your toes. Your hands went into his hair, as you met his pace. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you to his chest as he thrusted harder and faster. You panted, your cheek pressed against his chest, as your body became dumb and pliant from the overwhelming pleasure you got from his cock stretching you open. 

“Lo-!” You whined. “Harder!” 

He grunted, thrusting into you hard as you moved your hips back on him, that warm honey feeling pooling in your belly. 

“Get close doll?” He moaned, “C’mon baby, c’mon. Cum for me.” 

You cried you as you finally snapped, your body trembling against his as your pussy pulsed around his cock. Your release flooding and soaking his thighs and lower stomach. He thrusted into you one more time, and a loud shout of your name and you felt his cum filling you up, slowly dripping out of you.

A moment passed, as you both took a breath, before you managed to push yourself up, face to face with him. He had a goofy, lovesick grin on his face, and you tilted your head. 

“I love you.” You tell him, 

“Mm, love you too sugar.” He hums, his hand coming up to rub up and down soothingly down your back. “I’m…sorry I didn’t get you much for Valentines.” 

“That’s okay pumpkin,” You hummed, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “All I need is you anyway.” 

[cinnamqnx]

plug!hawks headcanons

warnings. drug use (weed), alcohol use, swearing

♡ you meet hawks from a mutual friend, wanting to find a dealer after only getting/smoking weed from friends

♡ they recommend ‘hawks’, he goes to the same college as you but you’ve never actually spoken to him. he’s sort of like the college plug

♡ the first time he meets you, he finds you so adorable. your awkwardness when asking him what you’re after pulls a small smile on his face

♡ after that, you’ve kinda been on his radar

♡ definitely makes you pay less than what he actually charges

♡ even gives you pre rolls to save you the trouble, and this man knows how to roll

♡ over time you gradually get closer to him, seeing him at parties every weekend, regularly going to him for weed, it was inevitable

♡ i also feel like he doesn’t really fw many people, so he always had time for you

♡ lets you call him keigo, even though he usually prefers that people call him hawks and only letting close friends call him his real name

♡ sorta becomes your personal guard dog at parties 😭

♡ always grabbing you water when he thinks you’ve drank way too much and ordering you an uber home

♡ if he hasn’t really drank, he’ll drive you home after taking you to some fast food place and eating in his car (he’s lowkey panicking when he sees you whip out any sauce)

♡ refuses to give you anything stronger than weed

♡ “nah, i don’t really want you on the hard shit.”

♡ doesn’t want you ending up addicted or ruining your life for drugs and always gives you lectures about it, even if it’s unprovoked

♡ he’s just veryyyyy protective when it comes to you

♡ i also feel like dabi would also be some type of dealer, and him and keigo have this little rivalry going on

♡ warns you to stay away from him, i feel like he’d go crazy if he saw dabi speak to you or even look at you

♡ everyone around you is confused whether you’re actually together or not because of how you act together

♡ however, keigo has a reputation for sleeping around, just doing his own thing, so it’s definitely thrown you off getting involved with him in that way

♡ even though he hasn’t really been entertaining anyone since you both got closer

♡ but he’s scared to fuck things up with you so he doesn’t say anything

♡ you don’t really know what you’d refer to him as in your life either, but you’re glad to have him around at least

♡ this man is always paying for you

♡ whether you need your nails doing, hair or you just need some more clothes, keigo always is the one paying for you

♡ also always buying you food, whenever you both smoke together and you get the munchies he’s ordering food for a family of eight

♡ you always tell him he doesn’t need to, but he’s more than happy to do it, something about your grateful smile has his heart pounding

♡ you start noticing problems when keigo starts showing his jealousy towards men you’re talking to

♡ you haven’t had chance to actually date any of them, since they’re either scared off by keigo or don’t want to get involved since they can clearly sense the tension between you both

♡ now, keigo has no real reason to be jealous, you’re not his girlfriend after all

♡ but when he sees you grinding and being way too close to this one guy for his liking, he snaps

♡ in his head, it was justified, you were acting different since you got involved with him and keigo had no choice but to step back from you despite how difficult it was for him

♡ he’d had enough

♡ storming over to the two of you and throwing his drink in his face, a fight broke out immediately, the frat brothers rushing to break them apart before keigo grabs your wrist

♡ “why the fuck would you do that? you know i like him.”, you yell at him after he had dragged you outside

♡ “he isn’t good for you, y/n!”

♡ “you don’t even know that! we haven’t spoken in days, like, you’ve been distancing yourself and acting weird for weeks, and now you wanna punch the guy i’m talking to? what the fuck-”

♡ “yeah, cause i fucking like you. bro- how have you not seen how badly i’ve been wanting you for months?”

♡ after hearing that, you swear your heart stops, and suddenly the thoughts of the guy you was with crumbled

[silent-stories]

Random Noah thought that I can't title

It started so subtly that Noah hadn’t even registered it as a thing at first.

The first time, it was nothing—just a passing touch. You had walked behind him while he was hunched over his desk, completely absorbed in whatever song or thought he was working through. Your hands landed lightly on his shoulders, barely more than a brush, before your thumbs pressed in, slow and deliberate, kneading at the tension he didn’t even realize had built up.

Then, just as quickly, you were gone.

He barely reacted. Maybe a quiet sigh, a slight roll of his shoulders. If he had thought about it at all, he would’ve assumed it was absentminded on your part. Just a moment of contact as you passed by.

But then you did it again.

And again.

And again.

It was never intrusive, never demanding. Just a soft, familiar presence whenever you walked past him—whether he was sitting at his desk, scribbling lyrics, scrolling through his phone on the couch, or leaning against the kitchen counter, staring off in thought. You would slow for just a second, press your hands to his shoulders, rub them for a moment, not even a minute, and knead at the knots with practiced ease. A silent, wordless act of affection.

Somewhere along the way, it became a habit, one neither of you ever spoke about, but both of you acknowledged in your own quiet way.

And after a while, Noah started noticing it.

Expecting it, even.

Like now.

He was sitting at the dining table, fingers idly tapping against the wood as he scrolled through his phone. His brow was slightly furrowed, his lips pressed together in that way they always were when he was focused but also a little frustrated, his mind somewhere else.

He heard you before he saw you, your footsteps light as you passed behind him. And right on cue, your hands found his shoulders.

Warmth.

Your fingers pressed in just the right way, your thumbs kneading at the tight muscles near the base of his neck. You barely had to try because, somehow, you always knew exactly where to touch, exactly how much pressure to use. Like you had mapped him out through every little moment you had done this before.

His head tipped forward slightly, a quiet breath slipping through his nose.

“That good?” you teased, your voice gentle but amused.

His eyes fluttered shut for half a second, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. “Mhm.”

You lingered longer than usual this time. Your hands moved in slow circles, working out the stiffness little by little. You didn’t rush, didn’t pull away immediately.

Noah figured this was just one of the quiet ways you took care of him. You never told him to stop working, never pointed out how long he’d been sitting there, hunched over his computer with the same tired expression, you knew he wouldn't listen to you because when he had a work to finish he couldn't think of anything else.

Instead, you let your hands do the talking—pressing into his shoulders, easing the tension he hadn’t even realized was there. It was your way of reminding him to breathe, to pause, even if just for a second. And somehow, that small, simple gesture always made everything feel a little easier.

Then, like always, you let go.

And, like always, you kept walking.

Noah blinked, rolling his shoulders slightly. The tension was gone now, replaced with a lingering warmth where your fingers had been. A ghost of your touch still resting against his skin, even if your hands had been on his hoodie.

He swallowed, tapping his fingers against the table again, but slower this time. More thoughtful.

Yeah. He had definitely noticed it now.

And if he was being honest… he never wanted you to stop.