aklxojjk

[aklxojjk]

a quick lil drawing(5 hours😭)

[aklxojjk]

# — helping mark grayson lose his v-card.

ever since i finished invincible back in MARCH, mark grayson has been living in the back of my mind rent free. then, @sobbingscripter fucked around and gave me this stubborn childhood best-friends to lovers brainworm i cannot shake with her series "our turn." everybody go read it! this is all your fault, girl!!! 💔 | wc: 2.3k words.

cw: nsfw mdni (18+), afab!reader, childhood-friends-to-friends-who-fuck?, porn with a crumb of plot, vaginal fingering, explicit sex (p in v), missionary, loss of virginity (both reader and mark), creampie, reader trying (and failing) to not feel good, mark being inexplicably good at sex despite this being his first time?, this is... vaguely angsty considering the circumstances

thinking about mark grayson asking you to do him a favor and take his virginity.

i mean, shit— mark seriously thinks he has a chance with amber, and he doesn’t want to risk a single thing about him turning her off. like— what if, when they eventually get, y’know, "hot and heavy," he kisses her with too much teeth, or can’t find the clit, or, god forbid, he tries to put his dick in the wrong hole! in that case, he’d be single and lonely forever, doomed to die unfucked, and it’s not like you’re seeing anyone either, so you’re the only one he can ask for help!

now, in your defense, the first few proposals mark offers get shot down by you in no time at all. you like mark, yeah, and losing your v-card would be nice, sure, but you’re not that desperate. being so thirsty to fuck him that you’re willing to be his test dummy so he can properly fuck the girl he actually likes is a level of depravity you’d never, ever sink to, but the way mark gets down on his knees one night and begs with his those big, brown puppy eyes of his makes you kiss your teeth and begrudgingly say yes. 

and as nervous as mark’s been acting, he’s eager. 

when mark kisses you for the first time, the action not nearly as full of teeth as he initially worried about, you come to find that it’s actually... quite nice. it’s hesitant, sure, but as far as you're concerned, this is not only your first kiss, but his. it's clumsy, but full of good intentions, and you enjoy the sensation of soft lips pressed against yours until he gets comfortable enough to lick at your bottom lip.

he only gets bolder from there. strong, calloused hands caress your sides, slipping under the fabric of your tattered t-shirt that you cut the neckline off of. firm, muscled legs walk you back towards your bed and cause you to bend at the knee, falling back onto the mattress, and him along with it. soon, those soft, pink lips are trailing their way down your neck, and those shy, but secure, hands are making their way to your bare chest, thumbs cautiously flicking over your pebbled nipples. 

you’re quite surprised by the effort it takes you to try to act like you’re not enjoying this. 

“‘s that okay?” mark asks softly against your lips, pulling back enough to look at your face. your expression is pinched, brows slightly knitted in the middle. mark’s concentration deepens, and he moves back a little further to truly study you, lips parting as he cautiously moves to pinch your nipples between his pointer and index fingers. 

“...you look like it hurts.” mark’s eyes flicker across every tremor and flicker of the expression on your face. you let your eyes shut slowly and try to steel yourself, breathing deep. 

“no, it doesn’t. you’re just— notthatgoodatthis.��

mark’s fingers slow to a near stop as he takes a moment to truly scrutinize you, eyes locking onto the way your eyebrow twitches as he slowly rolls the buds between his fingertips. then, he smiles, leaning back down to brush his lips against yours.

“you’re lying.”

you are lying. to be more accurate, you’re lying like fuck, but to maintain a shred of your dignity, you can’t act like being mark grayson’s test fuck-dummy feels nearly as good as it does. you'd simply be handing him the green light to go fuck amber. 

“i have no reason to lie.”

“sure,” he chirps back, “we’ll see about that.”

you find two reasons to lie once mark sinks his fingers into you.

firstly, you’re wet— unbearably so— and you know mark can feel it from the way his lips drop open with a groan. mark inhales deeply in an attempt to stifle any other sounds that escape him in the process, focusing solely on the slow press of his middle and ring fingers into your hole. the whole process is audible and clicky, which makes his head buzz with static every time the squelch reverberates against his eardrums. secondly, you’re tight; sure, mark already knew you were a virgin, but it’s another thing for the proof to be sitting right in front of him (or, better yet, squeezing around him). the way you’re squirming beneath him tells mark everything: that, to date, his fingers are the biggest thing you’ve ever had inside of you. 

christ, mark feels like he’s gonna lose his mind. 

the first thing he notices, aside from the way you’re clenching around him like you wanna break his fingers off, is the way the cords of muscle in your thighs are pulled taut. you’re tense— that much is evident from your pinched expression— but mark decides he wants to watch that pained face melt off into molten pleasure, so he starts to rock his fingers into you gently. 

“how’s that?” he asks, voice low and a little frayed around the edges. his adam’s apple bobs hard as he swallows, focusing himself on your face instead of the pretty sight of your pussy swallowing him up. 

“hardly feel it,” you lie unconvincingly, teeth gritted and jaw tight. you know you’re not going to win an oscar for your performance anytime soon, if the way mark laughs is anything to go by, and you frown in reply because, as much as you want to be mad, it’s truly a glorious noise. that said, you do have a reputation for being a buzzkill to uphold, so you try and fix your lips to snark out a reply, but you quickly press them into a flat line the moment you feel a moan bubbling up rather than words.

“sure,” is all mark says, his voice and tone void of any dejection. there’s little to no emotion in it at all, actually, and it makes you open your eyes right as he curls his fingers and drags them across your upper walls. 

a soft gasp leaves you, and your brows shoot up in surprise, tummy spasming for a moment as your hips kick up into his hand. mark’s rhythm falters for a moment, surprised by the sudden movement, but he has no problem adapting to the situation and getting back into it with a grin across his face. 

“bet you feel it now,” he coos, tone patronizing as he concentrates his fingers on that tender spot inside you. you shake your head quickly, brain threateningly to drip out your ears as you squeeze your eyes shut so hard you see spots. 

“all i— fuck— feel is you fumbling around inside of me like this is some bastardized prostate exam.”

mark snorts, but ultimately doesn’t reply, and in the back of your mind, you think you notice that as a sign of trouble. in actuality, you aren’t really sure: you could’ve picked up on it as a result of your last-minute preservation skills, but at the same time, it very well could have been a lie you made up in an attempt to make this feel less real.

whatever it is, it doesn’t matter anymore. you’re hardly aware enough of your surroundings as is. not after mark busies himself with slowly sliding his cock inside of you. 

“oh fuck, you feel good,” mark moans, voice sounding utterly destroyed as he presses himself in to the hilt. your thighs quiver, and you take a hand to press it against his abdomen, right above where it tapers into a v-shape and disappears inside of you. 

“i— fuck you, mark—“

mark, despite how much his eyes wanna roll back, leans over you and smugly grins.

“you are right now, aren’t you?” 

you don’t know where the fuck mark learned this.

the first few thrusts of his are measured, more so savoring the feeling of the way your walls sticking to his cock every time he draws back and press his hips forward. then, his thrusts become confident. he falls into a good pace, most of his weight on his hands as he leans over you and focuses on your face. 

your expression starts to crumble. 

the rhythm slowly makes a tingle form in your gut, jaw dropping open as you try to fix your mouth to half-heartedly tell him to stop. then, he angles his hips and hits a spot that makes your mind go blank of any protests, effectively making your steeled expression finally crumble. 

“oh, fuck,“ you finally whine, back arching slowly into a deep bow. you blink open your teary eyes to catch mark looking at you with the most lovesick expression, something you’re nearly dumb enough to think is for you before it’s covered up by pride for finally getting you to crack. 

“tell me how good it feels,” he says, dropping suddenly onto his elbows. you’re about to tell him that you’d only ever do such a thing in hell, but then he presses his face into your neck and slowly grinds into you, causing a shudder to completely wrack your body. 

“mark,“ you whimper softly, arms and legs coming up to cling onto mark desperately. he continues to sensually rock into you, movements long and drawn out so you can really feel it. as you begin to squirm, mark uses his muscled arms and firm hands to clutch you so you can’t run. 

“tell me,” he pants again. “tell me how good it fuckin’ feels.”

“fuck, it feels so fucking good, mark.” the way you whisper it sounds utterly broken, tears pricking at the corners of your lashes as a part of you gets damn near angry from how good you feel. mark keeps rolling his hips into you as he leans back to take in your expression, head coming forward to press a kiss to one of your eyelids. 

“cum for me.”

the words quickly make your eyes flutter open, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows as he keeps fucking you slow and measured. your mouth opens and closes for a few moments as you try to string together something akin to a disbelieving “what?”, but mark beats you to it and shushes you, pressing your foreheads together. 

“stop thinking so hard and let go. lemme feel it, baby.”

mark holds your gaze for a moment, actively watching the way your gears still manage to turn despite how stupid you currently feel. something suddenly gives in your expression, and mark smiles in realization, watching as you slowly relax and focus on nothing but the incredible warmth building inside you. 

your orgasm takes a little while, but when it does finally come, it’s glorious. 

mark would describe it as you melting. he watches as you seize up for just a brief moment, clutching him for dear life with slight panic in your eyes. then, he watches as you turn to jelly, the panic subsiding into something that can only be described as pure bliss, becoming one with the sheets and mattress itself. 

you feel so good around him that his hips stutter, but as much as mark wants to cum too, he wants to see you through your orgasm first. 

you can’t do anything but take it. 

it feels amazing— like a tingly, warm sensation spreading from the very top of your head to the very tips of your toes. you do your best to hold mark’s eye contact as your climax ravages you, but they eventually roll back into your head. the sight makes him groan and duck his head into your neck. 

“fuck,” mark hisses, voice low and gruff enough to be similar to a growl. it makes goosebumps rise on your skin— a few more than the ones that have already sprouted up on your arms and neck, at least— and when the numbing feeling of your orgasm begins to fade, you reach up to handle your fingers in his hair and lightly scratch your nails against his back. “where do you want it?”

you pause for a moment— one of genuine, critical thought— and lean up to speak in his ear. 

“inside.” 

mark briefly pulls up to look at you, the urge to ask you if you’re sure on the tip of his tongue, but the look you give him, combined with the knot tightening in his gut, tells him to shut up and listen, causing him to duck back down to your neck. 

mark’s pace falters, falling from measured and steady to frantic and fast as he chases after his high. he trembles with the force of his orgasm, hugging you tight as he humps into you like he’s trying to carve a place out inside of you. 

you shiver with him as he does, and you soothe him through it, murmuring praise in his ear until he’s panting heavily and slumps against you.

“…thank you,” he mumbles, face still buried in his neck. 

you’re panting heavily too, but that doesn’t stop you from weakly smiling, fingers tracing shapes in his skin. “don’t thank me, this was charity work.” 

mark snorts lightly and turns his head to lightly nibble you, making you giggle in reply. 

“maybe,” he says, sighing and turning his head to rest his cheek on your shoulder. “but still. thank you.” 

you hum quietly in response, a smile tugging at your lips until a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you of why he did this. it's quick, how suddenly something deep inside of you sours—something deep enough that it isn’t able to deter you from enjoying this peace you find in mark grayson’s arms, but accessible to the point of letting you feel that sting in the very tips of your fingers. 

you fall silent, listening to the rhythm of mark’s breathing, tracing patterns and shapes until his heavy, exhausted breathing becomes soft and measured. 

it’s only then do you allow yourself to speak, making the conscious effort to tuck the bitterness you finally feel in yourself away. 

“mm. i guess you’re welcome.”

# — navigation

[aklxojjk]

dont know how to render skirts or gold but heres mark possessed by kahor

[aklxojjk]

ᢉ𐭩-FERAL + DESPERATE MARK

Pairing: mark Grayson X f!reader

W.c: 1.8k (whoopsie)

Synopsis: mark gets back from a mission bruised and beaten. He couldn’t care about that one little bit. However he does care about you a bit more than usual today.

Warnings: dry humping, clothe ripping, mentions of bruises, cream pies (author got a lil to crazy/lost in their own mind)

A/n: ok so this is my second fanfic here. I’m gonna be real…I got VERY lost in my own mind while writing this one 😭 it may be a little bad so I’m honestly so fucking sorry if it is and it’s ok if you don’t even wanna read it. I’m also gonna start taking request so I can start writing more and getting better at writing so just request smtn if ya want. Anyway I’m done yapping. Hope you enjoy this shitty fic.

It was late afternoon—soon getting ready to become evening and Mark still wasn’t back yet from another mission. Today was your day off, it was supposed to be his too but Cecil called him in once again. You honestly wished Cecil would justcall you in instead. As you reach for your phone to call Mark you hear a knock on the window—knowing it's Mark, you dash to open it as he rolls into the house. He just face plants into the living room floor laying there as he looks beaten and bruised, the entire upper half of his suit isn’t even there and the lower half was ripped and hanging on by threads. You kneel down to the floor to try and see his face but he’s just curled into himself. 

“Mark…you ok baby?” You ask softly waiting for a response but he just stays there. You sigh knowing it would be a long night of patching him up so you go to grab the first aid kit. He never tended to himself, you knew you had to take care of him or he’d never heal. Eventually, you make your way back into the living room and Mark isn’t there. “Mark?” You called out just a bit worried now since he usually was never like this. Next thing you know his body was looming behind you, his head curled in-between your neck and arms wrapped around you like he was going to pop you. “Oh god…I missed you…so much..” Mark said in a famished tone as he began huffing the perfume on your neck like he needed it to breathe. You couldn’t figure out what was going on with him but whatever it was you liked it. “Mark, are you gonna let me patch you up? I don’t want you bruised up forever.” 

His hands moved all around you and your torso till he found your waist again wrapping his arms around it to hold you. He spoke muffled—keeping his face in your neck as if stopping would kill both of you. “Mmsure..”

Mark was latched onto you like Velcro and eventually let go. Sitting on the floor across from each other as you softly touched his chest pressing and applying bandages on each different bruise. Mark couldn’t stop leaning into the touch. The more you pressed the more he grunted and groaned. It was honestly starting to get to you, you’d never seen him like this but you liked it. You scoot closer in front of him holding up his chin while placing more bandages on his chest. This time…he whimpers.

“Oh fuck…” he whimpered out leaning into your hand more. His body was hot and warm as if he had a fever. Whatever happened on that mission changed his behavior and you didn’t mind it one bit. “Almost done Mark, don’t worry.” You said trying to keep your composure as you were honestly ready to fold for him. He was like a puppy and you were intrigued. You scooted closer to him—sitting on his lap as you placed the last bandage on his face. He was losing his mind, you were in just a tank top and panties—reeking of his favorite perfume. He was fighting for his life trying to hold back fucking the life out of you. Eventually, he just had to have you, grabbing your back to pull you as close as he could before he started sloppy kissing you. 

It felt amazing. Eventually, he let go—he needed you off his lap giving you a small push. You held yourself up on the floor with your elbows as you were laid out on your back. You just looked down and saw him latched onto your leg. He was absolutely feral, slobbing on your thigh as if he had been famished. You felt friction on your leg, moving back and forth up and down. “God, baby please, don’t move.” Mark cooed out as he began dry humping your leg and sucking on your stomach. You felt like your mind was twisting and turning, seeing him like this was an absolute turn-on. He was so desperate for you it was perfect. “Fu- mgnh..fuck baby.” He whimpered out struggling as he just kept crazy on your leg. It was like he couldn’t stop. He just kept going and going as you stared in complete fucking awe

feeling yourself grow wet because of his behavior. 

You reached your hand to his head rubbing his hair softly as this just made him go faster and faster. He was doing all of this whilst he was still in a ruined suit. You didn’t want to have him ruin the suit worse but you also didn’t want to stop him. “Mark…your suit is still-“ you were cut off quickly as Mark reached one of his arms down ripping off his suit and boxers along with it. So much for fixing the suit. 

He just kept going now, there was no fabric stopping him now. “Oh shit…I’m..ngh…mngonna…” he was struggling to even speak between moans as he softly bit into your stomach before cumming over your leg. Your eyes shot open as you were astonished at what just happened. Before you could even process he pulled you closer as he had both of you mashed together. 

Mark spoke in a breathy tone, “I need you to…take off..” 

“Take off what?” You were trying to figure out what he needed, it was honestly a struggle since he was barely speaking in complete sentences and you were trying to deal with not only his arousal but now yours as well. Before you could figure out what he needed, his hands grabbed at your panties ripping them off of you with ease. You felt like you were going tomelt into the floor before he eventually picked you up with ease throwing you over his shoulder. He practically flew into the bedroom putting you on the bed before getting on top of you. He began kissing you sloppily once more as if he was starved for your lips.

“Ngh..m..” you both moaned into each other's mouth muffled only letting go of each other's lips when you felt like you were gonna suffocate and needed air. “I need…more of you” Mark huffed out sucking on your neck now as you were absolutely turned on now.

He didn’t waste another second, tossing your legs over his shoulders as he leaned down closer. You know exactly what was coming next. He had dived his head down between your legs licking at your pussy like it was a 5-star meal. Your legs shot up before rising right back down as he kept going. He switched between plunging his tongue in your hole and sucking on your clit. You were melting in his mouth and that didn’t stop him at all. He moved his hand towards your entrance moving two fingers inside as he kept sucking at your clit. 

“MARK!” You shouted out in pure ecstasy as your hands leaped to his head grabbing onto his hair for dear life. He didn’tmind it one bit honestly—it showed him he was doing good. “I ngcan..eep…it up” he spoke with a mouthful of your pussy as he started sucking harder and going faster with his finger. You felt like you were about to pop just from this as your toes curled and legs shot up once again. You finally came feeling greedy for more. You hadn’t even realized you had his face pressed down in your cunt until you eventually let go of his hair watching his head rise. His face was covered in your cum before he licked it off as best as he could.

He didn’t waste a single drop.

“M…mark..” you said in an exasperated tone trying to get your breath back from what he just did. Before you could get a chance he pulled you up into his lap as he just began smashing his lips into yours again. You felt like your head was spinning, it didn’t even feel real for a second. 

“Baby…I need you to get on my cock.” Mark said tapping your ass softly to have you lift up. He just needed you to get on it and he’d do the rest. “Can’t you just do it for me?” You said in a sly tone trying to see how far he’d go for you in his moments of desperation. He didn’t waste a second grabbing you up and having you face him. He lifted you up as quickly as he could before having you slide down on his cock as slow as he could make it happen. You could feel him already twitching inside of you as your arms wrapped around his shoulder for support. He went from sitting up with you on top of him—to laying down with him over you in a meer seconds. He began ramming himself into you relentlessly.

He couldn’t hold back. He needed you so badly. He wanted to fill you up until you popped. You were starting to zone out already. The only thing you could pay attention to was his face—he still looked so fucking perfect to you even though he was fucking your brains out. “Oh mark…oh fuck..” you cooed out as he was balls deep in you now. Your legs wrapped around his back holding on for dear life as you felt your walls clench around him before you finally came. He eventually followed suit, cumming right after you but he just took a few seconds to breathe before he kept going. “Last one baby…last one.” He said in a pleased tone as he kept pumping into you. You felt like you had fireworks in your gut as you began to groan.

“Mark…I can’t….cum anymore. I can’t ngh-“

“Can’t do it” you whimper out as he kept going. 

“Aww don’t say that…I know you can…I’ve seen you do it before. Cmon baby…Ngh…last one…”

You couldn’t deny him the pleasure and it felt even better than the first round. In and out, in and out, over and over as he made sure he hit all the right spots. Your nails began digging into his upper back as he knew he was doing something right. He kept pumping into you faster and faster and your legs just grew tighter around him. 

“Fngh…fuck! Baby…almost..” Mark was struggling to hold on and eventually he popped. He came inside of you once again and you followed right after. He kept his cock in for a few seconds giving you a cream pie, he let his cock do one more twitch before pulling himself out of you. You were absolutely exhausted—watching as the cum leaked out of your pussy as if you were a faucet. Mark just smiled at you as if he didn’t just break a sweat.  

“M…mark.” You called out his name gently struggling to keep your eyes open as he had practically fucked you to sleep. He scooted closer to you holding you in his arms before speaking to you softly. “Relax, just sleep I’m here. Besides, I’ll be here tomorrow—it’s my turn to take care of you.”

You liked the sound of that.

[aklxojjk]

Boyfriend Texts ft. Mark Grayson

cute little filler post while i work on other things + I don't think i've seen a smau done for this fandom yet cw: mainstream!mark, fem!reader, kinda suggestive, potentially ooc!mark, lowk kinda cringe idk but who gives a gaf

©asarii 2025 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site

[aklxojjk]

Tags: [mlw][aged up][mdni][friends][little bit of crack][missionary][loss of v-card][tiny tags][bickering][breeding kink if you narrow your eyes][porn with plot]

"I've watched enough porn to know how to do it, dumbass."

"Yeah? And I don't trust you near my coochie. You crushed a Pepsi can with your finger today."

"Don't say 'coochie'."

"What then? Pussy?" You scoff.

"Vagina."

And you lower the Cosmopolitan magazine, your expression bored and upper lip curled in distaste as you watch Mark, reclined on his bed as he absentmindedly tosses a paper ball into the air, catching it with ease, only to throw it back up.

The motion is repetitive, boring to watch but you can't deny the appeal of watching that little muscle in his forearm twitch beneath his skin.

"I'll call my genitalia whatever I want, thank you very much. And you shouldn't mimic porn." You state. "A lot of that stuff isn't real and pardon me, but I want an actual orgasm when I lose my virginity."

Mark let's out a snort of laughter, perching up and resting his weight in his elbows, the edge of his sweater raising the tiniest bit and you catch a peek of a neat, dark little happy trail that disappears beneath the fabric of his clothing.

"I can guarantee an orgasm." Mark boasts. "I'll bet anything."

"If I don't cum, I want you to grow a full bush and then, wear cycling shorts for a week."

Your wager has Mark's lips pursing, chocolate pools moving towards the ceiling as he weighs his options. "Oddly specific but okay." Mark shrugs. "And if you cum, anytime I learn a sex trick, I get to try it on you. Unless you get into a relationship but," he snorts, "let's be realistic."

The insult has you flinging the magazine across the bedroom, hitting Mark in the face with the spine and he winces, although, you know it's more out of habit than from actual feeling.

"It's so weird." He mumbles. "I don't feel your abuse anymore."

Mark's grin is cocky.

"Oh, Marky," you coo, lifting yourself from his desk chair and you cradle his face in your hands, an action that's so familiarly condescending but Mark can't help but lean into your warm palms, "you're only unaffected by the physical abuse. I can still hurt you self-esteem."

Mark's eyes narrow at you. "Try it." There's a challenge in his voice that you just can't ignore. Especially when he's looking at you like that. Brown eyes trained intensely on you, black strands tousled ever so slightly from the long day he's had.

"You have feminine hands." And you swear, the way his expression falls is an aphrodisiac in of itself before you straighten up.

"It's easy to hurt your ego, Marky." You hum. "Heroes get a lot of hate if they do something wrong. But lucky for you, you have years of experience."

"Yeah," Mark hums, "no one's a bigger dick than you."

"It's so weird that you're losing your virginity on your parents' anniversary." You hum quietly, carefully traveling along the sides of Mark's bedroom, attaching the LED light strips along the cornish.

"Don't make it weird." Mark grumbles, stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy robe as he towel dries his hair, messy strands poking in every direction and he watches you with amusement. "Their anniversary is like, the only time when they travel far enough that I can't hear them. So.... It's the only night I can do it."

"They probably don't want you to hear them fucking." You hum, almost absentmindedly and when Mark gags, you let out a laugh and your foot slips from the backrest of his desk chair, and you slip.

But instead of meeting the carpeted floor in an unceremonious crash, you instead crash into Mark's chest, his arms wrapped around your midsection and your knees tucked up. And he dips his head low, head tilted.

"You okay?"

And if your pussy didn't have a heartbeat before, it does now. The way he looks down at you, his expression so soft, brows creased in concern and his lips. So soft and inviting, the scent of mint lingering in the air and you nod your head.

"Mhm," you mutter quietly, "I'm okay."

Mark sets you on your feet, before examining where you had stuck the lights and he nods his head, a grin cocking at his lips.

"Yeah, this is a mood setter."

"Can I open my eyes now?" Mark grumbles, arms folded over his chest but his eyes are closed, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones and you let out a hum.

"Go ahead." You mumble and he allows his eyes to open and drink in the sight of you.

Freshly showered, steam still rising from your skin and in his T-shirt. The faded Batman shirt ends just below your crotch, your ankle socks aren't even matching and your hair's tied into a bun that looks so half-assed.

You look nervous. Eyes lowered to the carpet and Mark reaches forward, large hands bracketing your hips and his thumbs brush over the trimming of your panties. And he pulls you to stand between his thighs, his head tips back and his chin comes up to rest on your sternum as he stares up at you.

"We don't have—" "I want to." You interrupt him, your hands raising to rest on either side of his neck, thumbs brushing along his jawline. "I want to." You repeat quietly, looking down at Mark.

The plan is to lose your virginities before the gap year is over. Because you'd both much rather make a mistake with each other than with strangers.

"Move your hand."

Mark lets out a snicker of laughter, your thighs tossed over his and his tip notched at your entrance, and he can barely think.

Not when he knows how tightly you felt around his fingers, sucking him in with such a neediness, not when he saw the way your brows knitted into the prettiest little pinched expression when his tongue lapped against your clit just right.

"I looked at the logistics of it and it's not gonna fit."

You state, and those pretty brown eyes roll at your words, before Mark slaps your hand away, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he taps it against your clit. Just to watch the way your stomach caves in with an unsteady breath.

"It'll fit." Mark reassures. "Trust me, I'm a doctor."

And you let out a laugh, your body slumped against the mattress and you snort.

"No you're n—nahh..."

Mark watches the way your head tips back when he pushes his tip past the ring of muscle, and he watches the way your eyes shut, brows knitting into a pinch.

"You little... Fuck.."

You breathe out, your expression a little pouty frown and Mark moves a strand of hair out of your face, leaning forward and as he presses a kiss to your forehead, he pushes another inch inside.

And as you gasp, his lips press against yours, and Mark swallows each moan and groan of pain, his forearm supporting his weight while his other hand grips your hip, thumb brushing over the protruding bone of your hip and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

"You're so warm..." Mark murmurs into the kiss, but he keeps his hips still, slotted between your thighs and he feels your gummy walls pulsing around him, trying to get used to the intrusion. And Mark lifts his head, kissing the apples of your cheeks.

"So I'm big, huh?"

He teases and watching as your pained expression gives way to an annoyed expression, eyes bored and brows furrowed.

"Just fuck me already."

You grumble.

And Mark pulls out, until just the rosy tip of his cock is poked into your sopping cunt, before he slowly pushes back into you.

The stretch burns, and you can feel the way your nails dig into your palms and you take a deep breath. His hips are pressed against yours, and you can feel that painful pinch behind your navel.

"Are you inside yet?" You question, peeking up at Mark through your lashes, enough to watch the way that dorkish grin spread across his face as he readjusts his position, leaning forward and shifting himself to rest more comfortably.

"Ha-ha, very funny." He rolls his eyes, his voice just a tad breathy and his hands move, thumbs moving your pussy lips out of the way, spreading them so he can see the pinkish flesh that swallows him whole.

"Mark!" You hiss, swatting away his hands, and covering your folds from his view. "What are you doing?"

"They do it in porn!" He defends, moving his hands to rest on your hips instead as his hips slowly begin to roll against you, the soft strands of his happy trail tickles your neglected and swollen clit, and you take a shaky breath.

"Those people are ass naked." You deadpan. "You've never even seen my feet."

With one hand, Mark shifts the covers and lets out a bark of laughter at the sight of your socks, still on your feet. And he reaches back for your ankle, lifting your leg and he places a soft kiss on the inside of your foot, causing your walls to flutter around him.

His kiss is warm through the cotton, a lingering show of affection as his hips thrust, cock nudging your insides to his shape. And he lowers your foot.

"Put your foot on my chest. I wanna try something." Mark hums quietly, resting your sock covered foot on his chest. And you let out a snort.

"My pussy isn't a skate park. You can't try things you've never done." You huff, but you comply, keeping your foot against his brawny chest, even as Mark shifts you into position, straddling your one thigh and resting your foot on his chest.

And when he moves, your foot slides off his chest, instead, resting beside him. And a snicker slips past your lips at the frustrated expression on his face.

"Please participate." Mark grumbles, moving your foot, and resting your leg over his shoulder, ignoring the way a laugh ruptures from your lips.

Kiss-swollen and pouty lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Bro said 'please par—'... Shit..."

Your eyes roll back in your head when the divot of Mark's tip presses against your cervix, pressing a sloppy, slick kiss against the plug as he grinds into you, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw.

Mark isn't even fucking you anymore.

He's slowly rutting into you, pressing adorning kisses to the side of your face, sucking marks into the supple skin of your neck while he slowly fucks an orgasm out of you.

Kissing you deeply, his hand grasping the fat of your hip while the other massages the plumpness of your thigh, pressing a warm kiss against your calf before going back to swallowing your honeyed moans.

"... shit, you're gonna make me come..." You breathe out, your nails dragging lines down the expanse of his muscular and slightly damp back, the pain and pleasure mixing into a delicious concoction that has Mark burying his face into your neck.

Inhaling the scent of you.

"Mhm.... 's okay, baby, come for me..."

His voice is husky, a low timbre that makes your stomach knot and you whine when you feel that wave of ecstasy crash over you, waves breaking on the jagged rocks of your being and you're lashes flutter, tears brimming on your lower lashline because you're just so... Full.

Mark perches up, wiping the teardrops from your cheeks and he looks down at your hazy and flushed expression. His gaze lingering on your lips, wet and rosy, and before he even registers, your hand is on his face.

"Stop making such heavy eye contact." You whine. "You're gonna make me catch feelings."

And a laugh tumbles from his lips.

"You know, I have your entire future in my hands right now." Mark states quietly and when you hum, quietly mumbling a 'how do you mean', he simply presses a kiss against your pulse.

"I could fuck a baby into you right now." Mark breathes out.

"And you'd thank me for it."

[aklxojjk]

Little things Mark does because he loves you

Invincible!Mark x reader

He always walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street. Doesn’t matter if he’s literally Invincible—he still does it, every time, without fail. If you switch sides? He casually switches too, like it’s instinct.

He sends you good morning and good night texts every single day. Even if he’s halfway across the galaxy, fighting some crazy alien war, you still get a little “Sleep well, baby. I love you ” message whenever he can.

He plays with your fingers absentmindedly. If you’re sitting together, he’ll take your hand and just... fiddle with it. Rubs his thumb over your knuckles, laces and unlaces your fingers, presses little kisses to your palm when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

If he gets home late, he tries so hard not to wake you. He’ll float instead of walking so the floor doesn’t creak, change in the dark, and press the softest kiss to your forehead before climbing in bed. If you stir, he just whispers, “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’m here.”

He loves when you wear his clothes. Hoodies, t-shirts, even his stupid superhero suit jacket. The first time he saw you in one of his hoodies, he almost short-circuited. Now he “accidentally” leaves them at your place all the time.

He gets protective in the smallest, cutest ways. Hand on your lower back in crowded places. Glaring at the barista who dares to flirt with you. Holding your waist just a little tighter when he hugs you after a long day.

He remembers every little thing about you. Your favorite flavor of ice cream, the way you like your eggs, that one childhood stuffed animal you still sleep with. He never forgets.

He holds you like he’s afraid to let go. Even after years together, he still hugs you like you might disappear. Arms tight, face buried in your neck, like he’s grounding himself in you.

If you fall asleep on him, he refuses to move. Doesn’t matter if his arm goes numb, if his legs are cramping—he’ll sit there, perfectly still, watching you sleep with this soft, soft look in his eyes.

He tells you he loves you all the time. In texts, in whispers, in casual conversation. “Hey, can you pass me the remote? Love you.” “Be right back, love you.” Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Sometimes, he just stops and stares at you. Like he can’t believe you’re real. Like he’s so in love with you, it physically stuns him for a second. And when you catch him? He just grins, shrugs, and says, “Can you blame me?”

[aklxojjk]

⋆˚｡⋆ ౨ৎ mark’s annoying ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

“mhm” You murmur sleepily, you feel Marks mouth slot against yours, a perfect fit really. The feeling of soft kisses against your skin is what lulls you out of your siesta. “Mark, cut it out.” You grumble, palms splaying out against his toned chest lightly pushing. “One more.” he says softly, pressing a lingering kiss against your cheek. Hes been off planet for a while, what can he say? He missed you, more than he thought he would.

You turn on your side, hoping that maybe you can drift off to sleep again, the “welcome home” had been particularly tiring. He drags you closer by your waist, pressing his chest against your back, gently brushing your hair out of the way so he can kiss your neck. Lightly scraping his teeth against your skin till you get chills and eventually grumble again. He pulls his your shirt to the side to rub the skin of your shoulder. He just wants to touch you, kiss you, smell you, love you.

“You smell like me.” He grumbles, wrapping his arms around your middle, sliding his hands under your shirt to run his fingers over the waistband of your panties. “You’re an idiot.” You murmur back, sighing softly. Of course you smell like him, wearing his clothes, and sleeping in his bed. “Don’t be mean.” He says and you can feel him smiling against your neck, his hands snake up to your boobs, giving them a squeeze. “Mark!” You groan again, and he just giggles.

credit to @adornedwithlight for banners

[aklxojjk]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[aklxojjk]

just one more.

➸ ask: “Hey! How about “one more kiss, please” from the prompt list for Jayce. I just need him desperately yearning for reader” – ➸ pairing: jayce talis x gn!reader ➸ word count: 1.3k ➸ tags: mdni! fluff, kissing, yearning, mutual pining, gender-neutral reader, no mention of y/n. ➸ notes: tysm for asking! ask came from this prompt!

You couldn’t count on ten fingers how many nights you dreamt of Jayce Talis, the Man of Progress himself. The image of him rattled through your mind at every waking hour, that stupid smile you always wanted to wipe from his lips with your own. 

What you hadn’t known was how he reciprocated the sentiment. Jayce would find you at your workstation, dirt on your face and welding goggles on as you carefully put together pieces that would host the hextech gemstones for further research. You had become a treasure to him, someone he could rely on when his days were busy, which were more often than not.

There were plenty of times you hadn’t been aware of his presence, he would stand in the doorway watching you work. Hearts for eyes and forcing himself to turn away before his heart ached too much, knowing that you weren’t his.

He yearned for you each day, staying up into the late hours, wondering if you felt the same.

How could you? You were too…perfect. 

It was the night of one of Piltover’s illustrious charity events that brought in only the richest of citizens. Any and all who put in their well-earned money for the academy, and you, had been invited by Jayce himself. Viktor had decided against it, not so much inclined to spend his night at another event when he could be spending his evening in the lab with Sky.

So, you took his spot – and you did not belong.

With your hand wrapped around an empty glass which once held a darkened liquor, you stood off to the side in the large area that had been decorated so elegantly. The tunes of the live music and sounds of chatter filled your ears, eyes looking amongst the swarm of rich Piltovians sharing conversation about gods knows what.

Jayce had been everywhere and nowhere, the Golden Boy was easily the most important icon of the evening. Everyone wanted to talk with him, ask about his research and his plans for improvement of the city. 

It was irritating to be stuck alone, but at least the invitation filled your stomach with top-shelf food and liquor you wouldn’t be able to afford yourself.

There Jayce stood amongst a group of rich folk, eating him up, just like you knew they would. He was surrounded, a big smile on his lips as he moved his way through each conversation with his natural knack of charisma. You wondered what he was talking about, watching his lips move as he spoke so goddamn passionately, hands flying with each word. 

His eyes connected with yours at one point, lingering on you for a quick moment with that stupid smile, before his attention was enraptured by another generous donor.

After a few more minutes of watching, you gave up. There was nothing else for you here.

Footsteps clicked along the surface of the tiled floors, the empty halls more inviting than the gala ever was. Your fingers dragged along the surface of the brick walls, the liquor having left you in just the perfect amount of bliss as you made your way home, knowing you could sleep the next day away.

“Hey!” A voice called from behind you, startling you with a soft gasp.

You snapped your head around, eyes widening when they settled on Jayce hurrying down the hall behind you. He wore a smile, wearing too fancy of clothing to be chasing you down.

“Why are you leaving?” He asked once he reached a few steps away of you, breathing a bit heavy, “Sorry… out of breath,” he chuckled through deep inhales, “I didn’t think I’d catch up to you.”

The thumping of your heart against your rib cage didn’t go unnoticed, stilled in silence over the fact that he chased after you. A tiny smile spread across your lips.

“It’s not really my style,” you finally replied, hands landing on your hips, “why do you care if I leave?”

“Why do I care?” Jayce’s eyebrows furrowed together, “because I invited you here. I… I want you here.”

You hated how sweet he was.

“You’re a busy man, Jayce,” you smiled, offering a slight shake of your head as you stepped toward him, better seeing him under the dim lighting of the empty hallways, “I’m not too fond of just standing around watching you get swarmed by every wealthy person from Piltover. As inviting as that sounds.”

He snorted out a laugh, eyes watching you closely as you stepped directly below one of the overhanging lights. It illuminated your features perfectly, made you appear like a glowing angel.

“So, you’re just going to leave me here by myself?” He asked, those big eyes of his making you want to melt right into the floor beneath you.

You laughed in disbelief, raising an eyebrow, “you’re not alone.”

“But I want you here,” he was adamant, eyebrows furrowing again, “come on. It’s not that bad.”

“You’re annoying,” you groaned, trying to act like this was worse than it was. You had a flair for the dramatics when you needed to pull something out from your sleeve, “I’ll see you tomorrow anyway, it’s fine,” you brushed him off with a wave of your hand, “plus, you’re going to be busy all night, so if I stay, I’ll end up getting drunk by myself and that’s never turned out well for me.”

Jayce’s eyes flickered over your face, studying your expression carefully. Neither of you had realized how close you had gotten, close enough that he could tuck back some of your hair behind your ear. The movement of his hand made you both tense up, a fleeting touch that he hadn’t realized he’d done. Fingers brushed against the shell of your ear as he pulled his hand away, redness tinting his cheeks.

“Oh, uh–” he forced out an awkward laugh, eyes now looking anywhere other than your face, “you had some hair… in your face.”

Lips parted, but you couldn’t speak. His touched left you stunned in place, eyes big as you watched him. You watched as his eyes focused somewhere along the walls, hands balling into tense fists and teeth biting at his lower lip.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the late hour of the night, but you hadn’t the slightest care in the world anymore. All you wanted was Jayce, and it was his fault that he made you feel this way, so you were going to pull him into the mess that was you.

Even if it ruined the friendship you worked so hard to maintain, all these years.

His amber eyes landed back on you when he felt your hands reaching to his cheeks, cupping his face oh-so delicately. They widened as he watched you lean closer, noticing the way your gaze flickered down to his lips he’d been habitually chewing on all evening.

Jayce’s heart fluttered, and he acted on what felt right. Meeting you halfway and sighing when your lips touched after years of imagining what this would feel like. 

Both hands reached out for you, resting on your waist as he pressed forward. The kiss developed slowly, lips moving together a bit clumsily as your patience wore thin. Hands explored each other, touching hips and shoulders, and your tongue slipped from between your lips, and that’s when you froze.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you pulled back, taking a slight step away, “sorry–”

“No, don’t,” he whispered, closing the distance with a forward step until your chests were pressed together. He stared deep into your eyes, his own full of love as his gaze continued to flicker down to your lips that he needed to taste again, “one more kiss… please.”

You smiled like an idiot.

“Just one more,” you murmured, rolling your eyes affectionately, before he pulled you back into another kiss that took the breath from your lungs.

Jayce would be the death of you.

[aklxojjk]

JAYCE TALIS TWT LINKS

INCLUDES— making out, size differences, groping, nipple/breast play, grinding, usage of vibrator, pussy slapping, clit play, fingering, cunnilingus, blow job, tit job, hand job, squirting.

WARNINGS— 21 links, all of these videos are for afab readers/viewers, don't like don't read/watch, make sure to be logged into twt/x beforehand, if some of the links stop working please lmk !

jayce's fat cock bullying its way into your tight pussy

he's just so big compared to you

prepping you with his fingers

first time anal with jayce ends up in a breeding session

jayce overstimulating your pretty pussy

making sub!jayce dumb with your hands

letting him suck on your clit while he squeezes your butt

shaking on his fingers before he stuffs you full of his dick

trying out a new invention with him

taking care of jayce's morning wood for him

he loves being close to you like this

it's dizzying how quickly he comes from your boobs

letting him take his frustration out on your pussy after a hard day at the lab

he loves it when you squirt all over his fingers

after a hard day at the lab pt2

making sub!jayce tremble like this

grinding on sub!jayce while he's occupied with your tits

he loves this position a little too much

playing with his balls while you suck him off

69 with jayce but he eats it too good and you end up getting distracted

making out with him

ffiolette

[aklxojjk]

Viktor and Jayce Art

Cr : yauoiyi

[aklxojjk]

Caitlyn and Jayce Fan Art

[aklxojjk]

viktor, and his way of loving you

yes babys, arcane

viktor has a way with words, and his flirting style is sharp and witty. he’ll tease you with playful sarcasm, often catching you off guard. for example, if you ask him if he likes your outfit, he might quip, “well, it’s not terrible. you’ve exceeded my very low expectations.”

despite his often aloof demeanor, viktor absolutely melts when you lay on him. whether it’s resting your head on his chest or curling up next to him while he works, he’ll grumble about being “distracted,” but his hand will instinctively settle on your back or stroke your hair. je secretly craves the comfort and connection.

viktor loves to rile you up with gentle teasing. if you’re trying to impress him or show off, he’ll smirk and say something like, “adorable. is this your best attempt?” he doesn’t mean it harshly—it’s his way of engaging with you and keeping things lighthearted.

viktor isn’t shy about casual touches. he’ll rest a hand on your shoulder as he leans over to show you something, trace patterns on your palm while deep in thought, or brush your hair out of your face with a surprising tenderness.

viktor is reckless in his own way when it comes to showing love. if you mention wanting something or needing help, he’ll dive headfirst into solving the problem, often overextending himself. you’ll have to remind him to slow down and take care of himself, but he’ll just shrug and say, “i’ve survived worse.”

if you try to challenge him intellectually or make a point, he’ll raise an eyebrow and give a smug response like, “oh, is that what you think? fascinating. completely wrong, but fascinating.” he loves engaging with you in debates, even if it’s just to watch you get riled up.

viktor might tease and joke, but when you’re upset or vulnerable, his sarcastic edge softens. he’ll hold you close, quietly reassuring you with words like, “it’s okay. I’m here. Even when you’re being insufferable.” his way of comforting is uniquely viktor—pragmatic but undeniably warm.

viktor doesn’t get overtly jealous, but he’ll throw in pointed remarks if someone gets too friendly with you. “oh, how charming he is. do you need me to take notes, or are you already smitten?” it’s mostly to amuse himself, but there’s a spark of possessiveness behind it.

viktor’s love is as sharp and nuanced as his personality—equal parts teasing, intellectual connection, and quiet, tender affection.

viktor’s kisses aren’t rushed. he takes his time, savoring the moment like it’s the last one he’ll get for a while. a soft press of his lips to your forehead, the corner of your mouth, or your temple says more than words ever could.

when he’s feeling cheeky, viktor will give you the faintest ghost of a kiss just to hear you complain. “oh, you wanted more? perhaps if you asked nicely,” he’ll smirk before pulling you in again.

if the two of you have time alone, his kisses are deep and filled with unspoken emotions. his hands might grip your neck or your waist as if he’s afraid to let go, his lips moving with a raw intensity.

viktor loves how your eyes reveal your emotions, even when you try to hide them. he’ll hold your gaze longer than most, often smirking as if he’s read something you didn’t want him to see. “your eyes always give you away,” he’ll murmur.

viktor expresses love through action. he’ll quietly fix things, design little inventions for you, or work late into the night to make your life easier. to him, love is about making sure you’re cared for, even in practical ways.

while he’s often buried in his work, viktor treasures the moments he spends with you. whether you’re reading, talking, or simply sitting together, those quiet moments mean the world to him.

viktor loves subtle physical contact—resting a hand on your knee, brushing his fingers against yours, or tucking your hair behind your ear. he doesn’t need grand gestures; these little moments are enough for him.

viktor values your opinion more than he admits, and he loves pulling you into his world. he’ll explain his latest project with a mix of excitement and sarcasm, often teasing your lack of technical knowledge: “hmm, not bad—for an amateur.”

viktor is deeply aware of his flaws, but your understanding of him—and your ability to look past his gruffness—means everything to him.

he adores how you can match his sarcasm or challenge him in conversations. if you manage to catch him off guard, he’ll smirk and say, “impressive. i’ll allow it—just this once.”

viktor’s greatest fear is losing you, whether to time, danger, or his own mistakes. he hides this fear behind sarcasm, but it’s why he can be fiercely protective. “i don’t have time to worry about you,” he might say, but his lingering gaze betrays his concern.

viktor’s love is quiet, witty, and deeply intentional. he doesn’t always say the words aloud, but every touch, every action, and every teasing comment is his way of showing how much he adores you.

[we all know he’s in love with jayce, though]

[aklxojjk]

nonstop thinking about viktor :c

viktor headcanons cause i need to talk about how he would be with his partner rn!!

ೃ⁀➷ whenever he's extremely focused on something, or spacing out, he'll play with your hair and twirl it around (HAVE U GUYS SEEN HIM TWIRLING HIS OWN HAIR AROUND HIS FINGER?!??!) it's the cutest thing ever and it relaxes him

ೃ⁀➷ i think he'd be very romantic with his words, his love language is def words of affirmation and acts of service

: ̗̀➛ he'd tell you the most poetic things ever. "the atoms between us.." he pauses to hover his palm on yours, just barely grazing fingertips, "they are warm with my love for you," he finishes, interlocking fingers and doing the same with your other hand.

: ̗̀➛ "i will always love you the same way i know i'll always need oxygen... in every timeline."

ೃ⁀➷ he will sometimes (a lot of the time) get caught up in work and in the lab, but despite how tired he is he'll always make it up to you<3

: ̗̀➛ he likes to plan relaxing movie nights, letting you have the choice of what you two will be watching, and he smiles at your excitement every time

: ̗̀➛ he also loves taking nice baths with you, it's easier on his leg, and it's just 10x more relaxing! he'll wash your hair with gentle hands, run them over your wet, dripping shoulders. you'll wash his hair, and he'll almost fall asleep. his eyes are closed and he's breathing so softly, leaning his head against yours. he also lovesss when you just chat and yap about your day or anything, he loves your voice and how it shifts higher and lower depending on your emotions, and it helps him relax further

ೃ⁀➷ cuddling at night is the best part of his day. he finally gets to unwind and just rest with his loved one. he loves cuddling facing each other, his head on top of yours.

: ̗̀➛ (he drools in his sleep i just know it)

: ̗̀➛ for some reason i see this man sleeping with the thinnest blanket known to mankind and just not caring at all, you have to cover him up with the sheets so he doesn't catch a cold or get sick lolol.

: ̗̀➛ hates having to get up so early in the morning. he wakes up a few minutes early every morning, just so he can admire you, taking in every detail of your face.

: ̗̀➛ gets emotional about it sometimes😭 he'll think too hard, noticing how peaceful you look, and how you were once a kid, and then starts thinking about everything that could've hurt you or starts remembering stories you've told him about getting hurt and he nearly cries on the spot. that's his cue to get up

: ̗̀➛ he never leaves before giving you a kiss on the head, always leaving a freshly picked flower on the bedside table for you! (you have no idea where he finds these)

hope u guys enjoy!!! more coming soon:>

[aklxojjk]

an introduction to intimacy (i)

pairing: botw! link/f(reader)

rating: m

summary: You knew what you were getting into when you first married him. You just didn't know it'll be like this. Luckily, or unluckily, he's there to refute it.

notes: there's a hint of spice near at the end, but it's nothing too explicit. there might be a sequel, depending on the inspiration.

Marriage isn’t easy. You’ve always known that, of course – some sort of knowledge hidden in the depths of your mind, vague enough to never cross your thoughts. Until now. If you’re perhaps smarter than you’d been, you would’ve thought twice before jumping into it and agreeing. You’ve got a general idea of what you’re getting into: your new role as a wife, the responsibilities expected of you, but you’ve never once thought it’ll be this exhausting.

If you’d known any better, you wouldn’t have jumped into it as easily as you had. Blame your mother for instilling all these ideas onto you, and blame your friends for romanticizing the Hero of Hyrule. He’d be a perfect husband, they’d told you. With how sweet and caring he is to strangers – people whose name he doesn’t even know, imagine how sweet he’ll be to his own wife. Bah. You’d imagined, indeed, and now you regret it. Not that it isn’t too late for regrets, but still. It’s not like this is something you’d wanted to happen in the first place. This has been, after all, a marriage of convenience, rushed and impulsive, something you had actually no say in no matter how much your mother tries to pretend otherwise. It hadn’t been your idea; it had been your mother’s, tinged with desperation as she tried to find a way to settle your father’s debts after he ran away from your mother and you, eager to hide and start life somewhere else.

Looking back at it now, it’s a bad idea, but at the time, there’s very little you can do. Stuck in a house where your mother resents you for reminding her too much of the man who’d left her, the choice had only been to get away. And so you’d agreed. The marriage had been quick, private, with little ceremony. Attended only by your mother and a handful other villagers, there were no vows spoken, no kisses shared. Everything was stiff and formal, quick and hasty. Before you know it, you’re being driven off into Hateno Village, with all your belongings packed into a single rucksack, your old life growing further out of reach with each second.

Three year later and you’re stuck in a house as cold and hollow as the one you’d left behind. You doubt there’s any real love involved between you, not even an ounce of fondness or attraction. It’s not that Link isn’t nice. He’s nice, exactly like a hero is nice. He’s helpful, considerate. He washes the dishes, puts them back the same way you’d left them. He fixes his bed every morning so you don’t have to. He doesn’t leave any mess behind for you to clean up. He’s exactly how your friends describe him – the ideal man, a hero.

But they don’t know that he could be distant too, cold as ice. Perfect and flawless. Like a statue, meant to be admired only from afar. This close, everything you know about him falls apart. He’s like a ghost in your home, a phantom presence you’ve learned to coexist with in the course of three years. He wakes early in the mornings, long before you, and sleeps late at nights, in the room across from you. He’s never around enough for you to share your meals with, or for you to get to know. You can’t remember a single time where you’d sat across from each other on the dinner table and talked. Even when the two of you had shared your meals together, which was rarely, perhaps a once in a blue moon occurrence, he was quiet, mostly just keeping to himself. He’d eat his meals in silence, and you’d do the same, listening to the clatter of the tableware as you do so. Some days, when you’re feeling particularly friendly, eager to get to know him on a more personal level, you’d strike a conversation, telling him things about your old life, asking him about his own in turn. He’s never offered much about himself, and after a few times, you’d finally given up on your attempts to get him to open up to you more.

But he listens. He always does, even as you ramble on with your mouth full of food, getting carried away with a that he hasn’t asked for, or even cared enough to know. You wonder if he finds your life more interesting than his – highly doubtful and you’re sure of that, or if he’s just humoring you, trying to be polite to make you feel better, but he listens. Or maybe he just knows how to look like he is. With how quiet he is around you, you never could quite guess what he’s thinking. Or feeling.

 Even now, if pressed, the only thing for certain that you know about him is that his name is Link, and that he’s the Hero who saved the world from the Calamity a hundred years ago. Things that could be found just from listening to the people alone. Nothing personal, nothing intimate. You never knew how he was raised, never knew the kind of village he’d grown up in. The things he likes. The things he dislikes. Whether or not he’s really okay with this arrangement.

You do know, however, how he likes being away from home. Years of observation have made you jumped to that conclusion, at least. You could almost count the hours he’s here in your home – his home, one that he’d graciously shared with you; just one, sometimes three, and only to rest and recuperate. He never stays the whole day, not even a half. Most nights, he doesn’t come home at all, preferring to spend the rest of his days elsewhere, without your company to keep him.

Not that you could blame him, of course. He was probably forced into this as much as you had been, and the only reason he’d agreed with this was because he was too nice and couldn’t find it in his heart to say no to your mother, with her crying and whimpering. Oh, well. You suppose there are worse men out there for you to marry. At the very least, he doesn’t hit you. Or scream at you, or take his anger out on you in all the worse ways one could imagine. You’ve heard of tales from your old village, where women escape to get away from their husbands’ anger. You suppose it’s only luck that you’re not considering the same course of action.

Still, that doesn’t make this life any less lonely than it is. Surrounded only by women your age, married happily to their own husbands, sometimes even with children on the way, makes you feel envious. All your life, you’d never imagined you were going to be married to anyone, preferring to live a life of solitude and freedom, but now that it’s the kind of life you live, you can’t help but feel some kind of resentment. How different your life would’ve been had you married for love and not convenience? If you’d listened to your heart instead of your mother?

Two years ago, back when you were younger, more impatient, you were certain you would’ve been happier with running away, living somewhere in the woods, alone and free. As old as you are now, you’re not so sure anymore; besides, it’s already too late to change courses, and it’s not as if Link is a bad husband. It’s not a bad life, by all means. You live in relative comfort, and the people in the village are as nice as you’ve always imagined. You’ve got food, shelter. In fact, you even have people you call your friends now: two women around your age, married and with children, eager to visit you in your empty home to keep you company when their own husbands are away and their kids are busy with schooling. They stay until the sun begins to set, and the three of you would do all sorts of things together, trying to pass the time: sewing the tattered clothes from your respective husbands’ closets, gossiping about the other villagers, exchanging details about your lives as married women.

They’d egg you on and tease you, pressing you for more details about your life with your husband, asking you all sorts of things: whether or not the hero’s good in bed, if he’s that good of a kisser as they’d imagine him to be. You don’t have an answer for any of that, and it’s the truth; ever since the two of you had got married, there had been no chances for intimacy. You’ve never even kissed, not even once, nor have you ever held his hands in yours. The most he’s ever given you as an act of affection is a nod and a polite smile – which isn’t an act of affection at all, according to anyone who’s ever had a shred of romance in their bones.

Realizing you’re speaking the truth, your friends give you a look of sympathy. The teasing soon turns into consolation, and you can’t tell which is the worse. He's just busy, they tell you. Maybe he just doesn’t have the time; he’s a hero, after all, and a knight too, at that. He’s already got so many things on his plate. You know all of this, of course, and more. They always forget to mention how this is a transaction, a marriage of convenience, something he doesn’t even have to like, or even reciprocate. Or maybe they’re just trying to be considerate, not mentioning it in your presence. Everyone in here has no doubt learned of it; it’s not as though it’s a secret anyhow. Not like it changes anything.

-

It shouldn’t be surprising to learn that he’d do something like this. It should be unthinkable, to discover that someone like him would cheat, but the truth sits in front of you nonetheless. There’s no refuting it, not when all the signs are here, flashing in front of your eyes. How he never seems to be around lately, how his clothes seem to smell differently now, not like the usual, at least, and certainly not the one you’ve grown to memorize. The red marks at the collar of his shirt, obvious to nearly no one else but you. Isn’t this, too, a kind of truth?

Still, you’re not sure why you care. There’s no reason why you should feel this way, as though you’ve been hollowed out and left empty. No reason why dread sits in the bottom of your stomach, heavy like lead, or why your heart hurts, as though a thousand needles pricked it all at once. It’s not as if he owes you any loyalty, and it’s not as if you love each other. You’ve established that, early on in your marriage. You’ve never talked about it, not explicitly, but it’s always there – a lingering knowledge, something you both know but have never said out loud.

And yet it doesn’t stop you from feeling this way. You’ve tried to rationalize it, sitting there on the dinner table, holding his tunic in your hands, glaring at the very obvious lipstick stains on the collar, feeling both angry and heartbroken at once. But there’s no reason to, you know there’s no reason to feel like this. You don’t love him, you’re sure of it. You can count all the times you’ve shared a conversation with him with one hand, and it’s not enough to justify whatever feelings of possessiveness you have over him. As far as you know, he can do whatever he wants. And so could you, for that matter.

And yet it doesn’t stop your heart from hurting. Nor does it make your anger abate even for just a second. You hold the tunic tighter in your hands, glaring angrily at it, not sure what you want to do with it. You’re meant to sew it, initially; it had looked to be in poor condition the first time you’d laid your eyes on it, tattered and ripping at the seams already, but now you want nothing more to do with it. Another irrational thought, one you’re supposed to quell, crush beneath the weight of all your other worries.

You exhale a breath, stand up, leaving the tunic where it is as you fetch a drink.

-

He comes home for dinner that night. Another rare occurrence, one you don’t even dream of happening, especially now that you’ve learned of the truth. You imagine he’ll be out and about at this time, busy making love to whatever mystery girl he surrounds himself with. Wide-eyed, naïve. Doe-like and innocent, she’d be younger than you for sure, this mystery girl whose only mark of existence is the lipstick stains she keeps leaving on your husband’s clothes. Even just the thought of her makes you annoyed, though you’re not quite sure why.

You’re quiet as you serve dinner, quiet even as you sit across from him and eat. Normally, you’d at least try to make some conversation, just to ease whatever awkwardness lingers in the air. He wouldn’t speak, like always, though he’d listen to you go on about your life even if he’s heard the same story more than once. But you don’t. Not this time. With your mind circling back toward this so-called mystery girl, you can’t even bring yourself to speak. Or enjoy your dinner. Each bite seems almost bitter, the taste of blood lingering on the tip of your tongue long after you’ve swallowed a spoonful down. It takes you more than a few minutes to realize that you’ve been biting your tongue this whole time, stewing too much in your own jealousy to pay proper attention to your meal. Hurriedly, you excuse yourself, grabbing a nearby kitchen towel to wipe at your mouth.

He doesn’t say anything as he watches you go, though you could feel his eyes on your back, eyeing your every move. You don’t have to look back to know that he wears the same expression as always. Opaque, unreadable. Far out of your reach.

-

You find him in your room after dinner. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hands on his lap, staring at something on the floor. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks like he’s deep in thought. You lean against the door, cross your arms over your chest. Taking a glance at your surroundings, just to confirm you are indeed in the right room, you clear your throat, catch his attention. “This isn’t your room,” you say stiffly, your voice flat, empty.

He looks up at the sound of your voice, eyes boring straight through yours. The blue of his eyes seems even brighter in the semi-darkness, piercing as he continues to stare at you, through you. Does he know then? Does he know that you know? Does he know how you feel about it? “I know where my room is.”

You raise an eyebrow, purse your lips together. “There’s no reason for you to be here.”

He shrugs, looks away, casts a curious glance around him. He takes it all in, at once, as if for the first time. “I came to visit.”

You frown. He’s never come to visit your room before, at least not when you’re around, and you can’t imagine why he’d want to now. Not when he has something else to keep himself busy – someone else. “I don’t see why there’s a need to.”

His voice grows quieter, nearly a whisper. Still, every word rings loud against your ears, echoes and reverberates in the hollow of your soul. “I came to check up on my wife.”

The words catch you off-guard, and for a second, your mind blanks out, unable to find the right words. He’s never referred to you as such before; you can’t confirm if he’s ever done so in front of other people, but it’s not as though you’re outside often enough to ask. And even if you are, it’s not an appropriate question. Still, that doesn’t make you any less surprised. “Your… wife?”

He nods his head, gives you a lopsided smile. You’ve only ever seen this smile of his on a handful of occasions, and it always makes you feel conflicted each time. A flutter in your heart, a knot in your stomach, a sudden jump in your pulse – things you could never quite explain how, note even to yourself. “There’s only one of her, isn’t there?”

You snort, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice, your words. “I don’t appreciate you thinking you could fool me again, mister.”

“I see.” His voice grows quieter, softer. He lowers his head, stares at the floor. He doesn’t speak for a second, and once again, you could never quite tell what he’s thinking. “That’s why you’ve been quiet.”

You scoff, feeling your temper rise at his sudden shift in attitude. Still, you’re careful to keep your voice flat, refusing to give in to the heat of your anger, the excruciating burn of your jealousy. “I don’t think you know me as much as you claim to.”

He lifts his head, looks at you. He meets your eyes this time, and something in his gaze pins you to your spot. You’ve never seen him look at you this way before, and something about it makes you yearn for it and deny it at the same time. “I’ve watched you,” he says. His voice is calm, steady. Soothing, almost, though it only does the opposite for you. “You didn’t see me, but this afternoon, after you ate your lunch, you laid on the couch and napped for an hour.”

You shake your head, look away, crossing your arms over your chest. “You watching me like a stalker doesn’t prove you know enough about me.”

He doesn’t falter. “You take your coffee with three sugars and no less because it’s too bitter for your taste.”

He’s right, like he’d been right the previous time, and yet the same problem remains. You exhale a sigh, growing more exasperated by the second. “I don’t see what that has to do with any of this.”

His eyebrows furrow. A hint of irritation flashes in his expression, rare and quick as a lightning bolt. Frustration creeps into his voice, makes it rise just the slightest bit. “That I know you as much as I claim to.”

You shake your head, exhale another sigh, shoulders slumping in resignation. There’s no point to this argument, is there? The boundaries of your relationship had been clear from the start; you knew what you were getting into the moment you’d agreed to the marriage. “Even if you do, we’re still strangers.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then he stands up, takes a step forward, and another, then another. Until he’s standing in front you, just barely out of reach. “Are we?”

“Yes.”

He takes another step, closes the distance between you until there’s none. “Even if I know everything about you?”

Does he? Even the thought seems almost unbelievable. Laughable, too. He has too much on his plate to bother learning everything he can about you. And even if that were true and he truly did do all of those, what difference would it make? Still, you can’t help but be curious, one eyebrow raising as you keep your eyes on him. “And what do you know about me?”

He nods, smiles. A different kind this time – tiny, a subtle twitch at the corners of his lips. One you’ve never seen before, and yet one that sends an unexplainable thrill through you. “That you’re jealous.” It’s a statement, a simple fact, one that makes your ears burn in offense.

“There’s no reason for me to be,” you snap, glaring at him. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you take a step back, attempting to mask it in the semi-darkness of the room. He follows after you, takes another step forward when you take a step back, refusing to let you maintain that distance you’ve been trying to keep. The game continues on for approximately a minute before you finally hit the wall, rendering all chances of escape null. You glare at him instead, annoyed at the look of amusement flickering in his eyes. “I know what I got myself into when I agreed to marry you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look,” you begin, taking a step to the side, refusing to play his game any longer. He doesn’t let you, stops you before you can go any farther, placing both his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. “I’m not sure why you’re here in my room right now, but I’m not going to be your entertainment tonight just because you’re lonely and in mighty need of company.”

He looks almost surprised at your implication; you catch the widening of his eyes, the shock that flickers behind them, just briefly before it fizzles out, disappears once more. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

 “It’s not worry,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. Has he always been this annoying and you just never even know it? Is this a side of him you would’ve killed to know a few years back? You would’ve been certain of the answer years ago, but now you’re not so sure. Everything’s too confusing, conflicting, and you’re not sure what to think, especially not when it comes to him. “It’s called—”

“Jealousy,” he finishes for you. He gives you another small smile, and it looks smug, victorious. You’ve half the heart to wipe it off, and the other half to kiss it away. You’re not entirely sure where the thought comes from, and it makes the heat in your cheeks rise, grow warmer.

You glare at him instead. It’s easier to mask whatever embarrassment you feel with anger; it’s familiar, comfortable, and it’s something he expects. You open your mouth, try to protest, but he stops you this time, refuses to let you speak. He shakes his head, presses a finger against your lips, shuts you up. His smile grows wider, and he leans down, close enough that he could look you in the eye. This close, the blue of his eyes seems infinite. Mesmerizing, as though it would swallow you whole if you forget to look away. He removes his finger from your lips, moves to cup your cheek, cradling it in his hands. Your vision swims. Your breath steams. Your heart stops. There’s a split second where everything grows still as he touches you for the first time.

Every feeling after this is magnified. The warmth of his hands burns like liquid heat against your skin. Your flesh sings. Your bones ache. You feel like a livewire at this moment, coiled and very much alive. You fear you’ll explode, turn into sparks if he touches you any longer.

You take in a shuddered breath, lifting your head just a bit, enough to meet his gaze. When he looks into your eyes, could he tell how badly you enjoy this? How much you’ve yearned for it, subconsciously, and in secret? Whatever he finds there must not be satisfactory enough because he’s leaning even closer, just enough that his breath steams against your cheeks. He’s close enough to kiss, to touch, the way he never is for the past few years.

You could tell him to stop. You won’t be his plaything tonight, and you’ve made it clear from the start. Just because he’s the hero doesn’t mean you’d bend to his whims, even if he has you at his mercy. He traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, and every retaliating thought in your mind disappears, along with every half-formed protest you might have. The gentleness with which he touches you opens up a valley of desire in the pit of your stomach, hollow and greedy. It makes you lean against his touch, like a moth waiting to be burned.

He leans in, brushes his lips against yours. Tentatively, like he’s waiting to see how you’d react. Seeing as you’re not pushing him away, he leans in even more, and kisses you fully. There’s hunger with the way he kisses you, mirroring the desire that sits in the hollow of your stomach. You grab the hem of his shirt, balling it into fists as you pull him closer. He responds by cupping the back of your head and pulling you against him, kissing you more greedily.

You don’t know how long you’ve kissed, but you’re breathless by the time you’ve pulled away. Catching your breath, you give him another glare – a last show of strength, even if it’s futile in the end, especially with how putty you are now in his hands. “I’m not going to be your plaything tonight.”

He shakes his head, looking almost annoyed at your comment. “You’re not.”

He doesn’t let you protest anymore. He leans down, latches his lips on your neck, peppering kisses all over: the underside of your jaw, your pulse, the curve of your neck. Your skin singes and burns with every kiss, but he doesn’t stop there. He kisses his way down: from your collarbone to the slant on your shoulder. He runs his tongue along your skin like he’s eager to taste you, and it sends another spark of thrill through you. You let out a shuddering breath, not quite expecting that; absently, you reach up, grab hold of his hair, tugging on it just so, and it only spurs him on, feeds into his ego. Impatiently, he pops the buttons of your blouse, not caring that he’s nearly ripped it off in the process. He doesn’t apologize. Instead, he moves to kiss his way down your body: the valley of your chest, your breasts, your navel until he’s kneeling down in front of you. With your skirt in the way, he’s unable to go further. Hurriedly, he tugs it down, pulls it off your ankles, then throws it somewhere in the room.

“Hey!” you protest, but he simply ignores you. Or maybe he’s just simply too far gone to care. With you left only in your underwear, there aren’t much obstructions left. He runs his eyes up and down your form, and something in his eyes makes you want to cower and hide. There’s greed in there, mixed with something else, something you can’t quite name. Hunger, perhaps? Or maybe even desire? Either way, he doesn’t let you linger on the question much longer.

He’s much gentler this time, slower than he’d been just a while ago, when he was practically ripping your shirt and your skirt off of you. Now, it feels as though he’s got all the time in the world. He tugs at your underwear, pulls it off your ankle, no longer impatient. He takes his sweet time as he leans in and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, each one leaving you more breathless than the last. Soft, teasing, each one a kind of agony that only makes you yearn for more. You’ve lost count after the first one, every rational thought pushed out by the impatience to feel something. You glare down at him, only to find him already watching you, his gaze glued to your face, drinking in every reaction you make. You’d have blushed if you’ve still got some semblance of dignity left somewhere in you.

“Hurry up,” you say, the words a breathless rasp as they spill out of your lips. He gives you a dark look, but he listens anyway. He inches his face closer to your bare cunt. He doesn’t give you a chance to complain this time. He buries his head between your thighs, catches the trickle of arousal spilling out of you with the tip of his tongue. Heat rises once more to your cheeks. There’s a part of you, embarrassed and shameful, that wants to run away and hide, push him off you. There’s another part that wants him closer, wants all he could offer. Right now, you’re not entirely sure which is which.

And he’s still going torturously slow. It feels intentional, mocking. He moves with the patience of a saint, all his earlier impatience forgotten in a flash. You hate it, but you can’t bring yourself to speak when he blows against your cunt, making your mind blank out. “Link,” you say, your voice thick and raspy. You’ve never imagined you’ll call for him like this – a mix of desire and desperation, and it’s so unlike yourself that you’d have laughed if you hadn’t been

You glare down at him once more, and you could almost swear that he gives you a smug smirk in response. He doesn’t let you dwell on it any further; he dives back in, surprises you this time, delving his tongue deep into you. A shudder leaves you, and your eyes flutter shut, your head hitting against the wall behind you. You could barely register the pain; there’s a dull throb in your head, but all is quickly lost in the sea of pleasure that surrounds you.

You tug a fistful of his hair, hard enough that it’s sure to hurt, and he responds by burying his tongue deeper, lapping you up like a man starved. Every part of you feels hot, every nerve ending alight and on fire. You should tell him to stop, but your body aches for more. Your hips buck, involuntarily, against him, and he lifts one of your legs to rest it upon his shoulder. He places his hands on either side of your thighs, keeps you in place as he furthers his assault, delving into you over and over until he rounds in on that spot that has your legs shaking, the entirety of your body overwhelmed with feeling. “T-there!”

He doesn’t stop. Eager to discover what’s made you tick, he only grows rougher, hungrier, zeroes in on that spot over and over until your mind is spent with pleasure. Your stomach tightens, coils. Everything’s too much, too sudden, and everything in you breaks at once. With a sharp cry, you fall apart, limbs shaking, legs trembling. He’s there to catch you, keeps his arms around you as he holds you steady against him, his tongue ready and waiting to catch every drop that spills out of you, his throat bobbing with each swallow.

And then it’s over, and he’s leaning back, wiping his mouth the back of his hand. You stare at him dazedly, too busy trying to catch your breath to pay him proper attention. You could barely find it in yourself to move. Every part of you feels paralyzed. Your chest rises and falls. Your mind is still empty of any thought; distractedly, you watch him as he picks himself back up, stands up so that he’s in front of you again. You swallow the lump in your throat, lick the dryness off your lips as you find the right words. Nothing comes. All that spills out of you is a breathless noise that falls somewhere between a croak and a whimper, nothing that resembles anything coherent.

He doesn’t speak either. Instead, he leans in, presses his forehead against yours, cups your face in his hands once more. You’re just about to ask him a question before he’s kissing you once more, soft and slow, coaxing. Like he’s trying to apologize. Or maybe he’s tempting you to follow his lead. You’re not sure which is which, but he’s convinced you anyhow, and so you lean in, and kiss him back.

[aklxojjk]

"glue song"

✭"don't forget to kiss me or else you'll have to miss me"✭ ~ How Arcane characters show affection headcannons {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw ☞slightly pervy jayce (you can't pry him from my cold dead hands), fluff

♞Vi♞

♞Vi kisses like she is starving, and you are the first morsel of food she can get her hands on. Like she is drowning, and you are her first breath of air. It's not just desperate and hungry, but there's also a thankfulness to it. Thank you for sticking with her, thank you for being so patient with her, thank you for loving her. Vi doesn't do anything half-assedly, especially not kissing her pretty girlfriend. It's probably her favorite form of affection because it's so versatile. It doesn't have to lead to the bed if neither of you want it to, sometimes it's just on the couch, you sat in between her large thighs, positively falling into her.

♞Her favorite place to kiss you would be on your lips as she holds you chin in her rough hands. She would kiss you thoroughly and deeply, her tongue languidly kissing your own without a rush or care in the world. She is quite prone to getting overwhelmed herself, squeezing the air from both of your lungs and having the nerve to pout at you when you pull away. On her messier days, she leaves a string of spit behind, but she's always kind enough to wipe it away with a few swipes of her thumb. With every inch you pull back she leans in a mile more, chasing you as you try to catch your breath and when she does pin you down, she holds you impossibly close so you can't escape again until she's had her fill. Even then, she holds you in her large arms and tangles your limbs together, at one point sliding her hand beneath your shirt just to lay it on your tummy and feel it move as you breath.

♞Vi is also secretly a space heater. She runs incredibly hot and because of this, sleeps naked and is always down to give you her jacket. It just makes sense in her mind, seeing her clothing wrapped around you. She likes sharing most things; oddly specifically, drinks. She's gross and thinks it's hot that you're technically swapping spit. When it comes to alcohol, especially if you're not a big drinker, both of you will nurse off the same drink, her tipping your head back and pouring it into your mouth when you get a bit too tipsy to do so yourself without spilling.

♞Her go to pet name is 'pretty' and I will die on this hill. It's the thing that defines you for her. She's an idiot and a loser and she knows there's more to you than just how you look, but she just can't help it that whenever she sees you, all her reptile brain can think is 'pretty'. She absolutely abuses it, too. Besides this, I also think she would use those sleazy kinda bar pet names, like sweets or babydoll. Not in a creepy sleazy way, but that is just realistically what she would've been hearing for terms of endearment.

♞Slight side tangent, in a modern AU she is definitely one of those mascs that gets a hold to some Calvin Klein boxers and takes advantage of every opportunity possible to show the waistband off. Part of it is just her showing affection, even if you can reach tall shelves on your own, she still insists on getting the items for you. This carriers over into many things, like twisting open pickle jars or opening your soda cans if you're someone into longer nails. While she isn't as good with building things as Jinx, I think she would definitely be able to manage putting together the furniture in your shared home. Would it take all day? Well, yes! But you chose to make the best out of it and fuck on top of the furniture to test its sturdiness and congratulate your girlfriend on a job well done.

♞On the topic of nails in a modern AU, she would love a partner who gets them done absolutely goes feral if you get them customized to her liking, like coloring them after her eyes or hair or sneaking her name in there somewhere. She feels like she's made it in life when she can pay to get them done. It seems like a selfless action, but it would be a lie to say she gets nothing out of it. The scratch mark you leave on her back after break her brain a little.

★Ekko★

★Ekko loves cooking for his girlfriend! I feel like that would definitely be his main love language along with quality time. As stated before, you two would spend a lot of time in his kitchen, often times with some source of music providing a background noise to the nonsense that you concoct together, occasionally slow dancing while there's time to kill while waiting for something to finish in the oven. Food fights may occasionally occur, but he does a thorough job of licking you clean after. He claims he 'can't let good food go to waste'.

★He would also have a sketchbook absolutely full of you. You can tell when a new edition is about to be added as well. Ekko isn't loud, but he isn't quiet either. His foot is always tapping, he's usually humming something, he always has something to keep his hands busy. He's hardly ever still, except for those moments when you fully wash over him. Sometimes the lighting is exceptionally beautiful, sometimes it's in appreciation of how the wind moves the world around you, and some moments are just so breathtaking beautiful he has to take a moment to go silent, still, and stare. Sometimes he'll just tell you to be in his presence and be pretty so he can properly commit you to paint and commemorate you forever in oils and brush strokes. He's not above nude paintings, though those strokes look and feel much different.

★Ekko is the CEO of quick kisses. He's a busy guy!! He's running an entire commune. He makes the absolute most out of moments when you have the world to yourselves, but most of what you receive are quick passing kisses on your cheeks or the corner of your mouth. He misses on purpose because he simply does not believe in starting things he doesn't have the time to finish. For this reason, I don't think he'd be a big quickie guy. A kiss can easily just be a kiss, but sex is not something meant to be done in 5 minutes.

★Ekko's favorite place to kiss you would also be your lips. He's a romantic, what can I say!!! At the end of every day, you ask each other how your day was after you've both showered and gotten comfy. You both sit on his bed, set beside each other, your legs haphazardly laid over his as he casually massages your thigh. Sometimes you're both a bit too tired and aren't listening that hard, the occasional tidbit catching your attention making either of you sit straight and get closer until eventually you laid on top of him, both of you half asleep. No matter how much energy either of you has, a good night kiss is to be had. When Ekko doesn't need to be quick, he is impossibly slow. He has all the time and then some.

★Not only does he demand a good night kiss, but a good morning kiss to. He gets pouty without it. And sassy. He tells Scar, very loudly so that everyone can hear him, that you hate and don't love him anymore and he is just so deeply hurt that you would let your boyfriend, you're one true love, leave the house without kissing him goodbye and doesn't shut up about it until he gets his goddamn kiss.

★He loves picking out your outfits. He prides himself on the way he dresses and out of everyone, I think Ekko has the most domestic skills. I've already discussed how well he cooks, but I wouldn't be surprised if he also knew his way around a needle and thread. He is not just wearing any clothes; he has a sense of style that he is very proud of. This being said, he loves going shopping with you in a modern AU and he loves when you eventually get comfortable enough to not retreat into the bathroom when changing from outfit to outfit. He's the one making you do the little spin so he can appreciate the outfit from all angles.

★As far as pet names go, I think Ekko would keep it simple with "babe" or "baby" for more casual usages. I also think he would be fond of "my girl" and expects it from you in return because yes he is "your boy" and yes you are "his girl" and yes he loves you very very much. He wouldn't be a stranger to "my love", especially in the mornings or at night when your face is the first and last thing he sees when he closes his eyes. It makes him feel extra sappy.

❂Jayce❂

❂He is all over you at all times of the day omg. I feel like of everyone, Jayce would be the clingiest. This isn't to say he's attached to you at the hip, but his favorite part of the day is getting to go home to you. You're cooking and there he is sitting on the counter yapping about Hextech or something. You're taking a shower and he wants to join. And it's not just a proximity thing, it's also a touchy thing. Any reason or way he can find to touch you, he is taking it. He doesn't care if it's pathetic, dammit, he wants to be held.

❂Jayce would absolutely thrive in a modern AU. He would be the guy whose social media page are all posts about his girlfriend and does he just love to show you off. He would spoil you so good, but rather than buying anything you wanted like Mel would, I think he would also really enjoy making you presents. This isn't to say he doesn't enjoy buying you things, one of your staple pieces of jewelry is the gold anklet he bought with his initials on it.

❂Physical touch is easily his love language but he cannot handle all that, or rather, he freezes in situations where you initiate it. His hands tend to naturally find your waist and will occasionally, if he's feeling bold enough, slip down to your ass, but one time when it was freezing out, you offered your tits as handwarmers and he got a nosebleed. Jayce is definitely an undercover perv but due to never having a girlfriend before and being completely foreign with the concept that he doesn't need to hide how badly he wants to jump your bones at nearly all hours of the day, he freezes when it comes to you initiating contact.

❂He would definitely be the type to get you teddy bears and flowers just whenever. It's never with any rhyme or reason and it happens rather sporadically, just when he is out and about for any reason and thinks of you and wants to bring you something home. He thinks of you a lot, actually. Mel and Viktor love the both of you, but sometimes he goes a bit overboard when it comes to talking about you. This being said, he jumps at any opportunity to show you off. He loves going to gala's because he likes seeing you in pretty clothes and hanging off his arm. He also likes kissing you in public, even if no one's paying attention. He is well versed in the art of delayed gratification and loves getting the both of you riled up knowing full well he does not have the balls to actually fuck you with people around (he gets loud and is very well aware of this)

❂ Jayce's absolute favorite place to kiss you is your neck. He usually starts with your lips, large hands cupping your cheeks and soft lips moving over yours until he gets more antsy. His hands travel from your cheek to your neck then begin to creep under your clothes to grab and knead at your warm skin. Then he would move down your face, peppering kisses across your lips, down your jaw, then down you neck, panting as he goes along and his hands getting rougher as he tries to remain composed. He stops there for a moment, breath fanning over skin that is now slightly red from his canines nipping you and his fresh stubble scratching the area, reminding himself to be gentle and not take more than he's given. He pleads with you, his own cheeks flushed from the heat of the movement as he mutters out his "please...". He's begged you time and time again to not make him verbalize exactly what he wants, but you are relentless. At least he has the manners to ask sweetly beforehand.

❂He is the type to lay right on top of you. After you've gotten comfy in your bed, thrown on your pajama's, maybe are doing a bit of light reading before bed, he comes around to disturb your peace and lay himself right on top of you, smothering you with kisses while he lays there. He eventually moves out of his starfish position to lay his head on your chest and wrap his arms around your torse. He's like a giant, weighted, warm teddy bear

❂One of his go-to pet names would be 'baby', but only when it just the two of you. He is also quite fond of 'gorgeous' and he always has a stupid smirk on his face when he says it. His favorite would be 'sweetheart'. Slightly off topic, he would be the first to jump the gun and start calling you his wife. Especially to council members that are annoying him and taking up time he'd rather be spending with you, he is very quick to pull a "Sorry, gotta get home to my wife." He bought to matching rings for your one-year anniversary to sell the story better.

☽Viktor☾

☽As far as physical affection goes, I think he would be the least touchy. I think the touches would be concentrated on your face, lazily tracing all of your features, marking where your cheeks sink below your cheek bones, the divot between your chin and lips, and where your face is most pronounced. While he wouldn't call himself an artist, he could probably mold your face in clay from the number of times his feather light fingers have caressed every inch of it. He's utterly entranced by it. His mind often wanders while listening to you speak, eyes roaming from your lips and taking note of them in proportion to your eyes, getting lost in the color of them until his eyes flit to your nose and the way your nostrils slightly flare out. It's very mechanical, but that's just the way his brain works.

☽Less of a hugger but he does like to keep his arms around you. Especially on date nights when you're cuddled up on your couch, a myriad of snacks in between the two of you, your head resting on his shoulder while he tries to hide his snores as he falls in and out of consciousness. You accuse of him trying to go to sleep and he tells you he was just "resting his eyes".

☽He would make you all the trinkets in the world. Many of them start as failed experiments of his or scraps from projects past that need to be repurposed, but the thought is always there. He hates to waste and there's really no need to when he has a girlfriend he can make gifts for. Your vanity is full of pretty side projects, decorative boxes for your makeup, ornate music boxes, tea sets and tiny figurines. Your desk would be full of special tchotchkes.

☽Speaking of tchotchkes, I think that would be one of his playful nicknames for you. It sounds absolutely delectable in his accent. I think he would also go for the classier terms of endearment such as 'dear', 'love', 'darling' as well as variations of them in his mother tongue. He would love teaching you his native language, both as a way to bond even more but also to make sure he never loses it.

☽He would also be big on compliments. He is probably your number one supporter, but not in the loud sports fan with a huge foam finger kinda way, but in a quieter more personal way. He is extremely confident in you and your abilities as well as being endlessly proud of everything you do. He is in complete awe of you, and he tells you as such. It is impossible to feel bad about yourself in his presence, he keeps a mental rolodex of every accomplishment of yours to combat any sort of negative self-talk.

☽Not a big PDA guy. He would rather throw himself out of a window than suck face with you in Jayce's presence. He is a big hand-holder which is disastrous when doing it while walking around because neither one of you can walk straight to save your life. It's not even an issue with his leg because you do it too. You bump into each other all the time, though in the winter it is more often on purpose to keep warm.

☽Viktor's favorite place to kiss you is on your forehead. It's simple and it's sweet and more often than not what he can get away with the most. With how much time he spends in the lab, he has grown to deeply appreciate those quiet moments with you, holding your hand under the table as he works in the low light, papers rustling as he tries to find the specific formula he's looking for. Jayce is across the table, snoring loud enough to keep the both of you awake. You look like you want to kiss him, he can feel your gaze on his lips as your fingers tangle through his hair and he turns to you and gives you a small smile then a sweet kiss on your forehead. When he pulls away, he leans into you and you sit there for a moment, nose to nose. "Just a few moments, love, I'm almost done." You giggle through tiredness. "It won't be a few moments, Vik." And he appreciates your understanding more than most things in the world. "No, it won't. But I'll try to make it quick.", he promises and then plants another kiss on you

☽He really likes reading with you, or just doing activities that allow the both of you to be doing something together without necessarily needing to talk. It doesn't even have to be something he's good at, it could be a painting session, or a pottery lesson, and he would be down. He would also be the type to try and pick up on your hobbies. You like to crochet; he's also picking up a crochet needle to try and work alongside you. And he's not too proud to ask for help, he likes a relationship where both parties are constantly learning and exploring.

☼Mel☼

☼Mel is definitely the type to spoil you. She has so much money and is not afraid to use it. You really like that dress you saw while window shopping? She's already ordered it to be tailored to your exact size. You like that bracelet? You wake up to it in a box on your nightstand the next morning and spot her wearing a matching piece later on that day. It's not to try and buy your love, she just thinks you deserve the world, and if she could buy it, it would be your wedding present.

☼Mel love holding hands at all times and specifically is the type to rub the skin between your pointer finger and thumb. Her skin would also be so soft, touching her feels like touching smooth velvet. She also likes to kiss your knuckles and the inside of your wrist before letting go, the mark her lipstick feeling like a heavy imprint of her lips.

☼She is also very fond of kissing your nose. She thinks 'booping' you with her finger is childish, but she is not above a little peck on the nose, which is the abridged version of her usual ritual of pecking your forehead, nose, and lips. Those kisses are usually taken in the morning when you go your separate ways for the day, particularly those that she knows will be long and tedious. She likes to think she takes part of you with her when she does it. She misses your intellect, she misses the silent indicators of your presence, she misses how you feel. Some days, she greatly yearns to return to you. She feels like a physical weight is lifted off her back and she can actually breathe.

☼She loves spending wash days with you. Those locs take hours and you are there right by her side, gossiping and discussing everything and nothing while royal hairdressers take down or retwist that beautiful head of hair. It's even better if you're the one doing it for her. She likes the feeling of your fingers in her scalp, massaging out the wrinkles in her brain as she goes boneless in between your legs. I, unfortunately, do not think she could return the favor. She is like basically royalty; her whole life someone was likely doing it for her. She would try and learn!! It would just take a little bit.

☼I do think she would be very good at doing your makeup. She has the base routine DOWN and usually likes to do simpler eye looks, though she can do whatever you request of her. All hell breaks loose when it comes time to do lips, and her gloss would end up all over your face as she is overcome with the unabating urge to leave glossy kiss marks all over your face . You would return the favor, whatever pigmented shade you previously wore landing all over her flawless skin, and she would savor the moment with a photo she keeps in her journal

☼In a modern AU, I think she would be really good at carnival games. I can't explain it, she just would. She's not the biggest fan carnivals and fairs as they're a bit too loud and crowded for her taste, but if you wanted to go, she certainly would never say no to you. While I think Vi would try very hard to beat them only to fail, Mel would be unexplainably good at them and win you tons of prizes.

☼Mel carries a purse on her at all times and has absolutely everything in there. Pads, tampons, ibuprofen, lip gloss, hand sanitizer, wet wipes, anything you could possibly need is in that bag of hers. She also carries the big bag so you only have to carry around outfit purses than can barely handle a handful of coins. She also loves matching outfits with you!!! You probably own so many matching outfits, matching pjs, matching workout sets, as well as multiple items of clothing that are the exact same except for sizing.

☼She would be another one who constantly talks about her partner, albeit, in a much smoother way than Jayce does. Jayce jumps at every opportunity to bring you up in conversation, it's always flows naturally with Mel but she also brags far more. It's always, "That's great but my girlfriend..." or finding ways to talk about big accomplishments knowing damn well no one else can compete. See her girlfriend has a doctorate, or her girlfriend won this prestigious award, or her girlfriend was the first to do this...what were you saying about your wife though???

☼As for pet names, I think Mel would be another person who uses "my love" or "my dear" but I also think she'd be the type to refer to you as "princess". Once again, coming from royalty, she treats you as such, and that also comes down to how she refers to you. She also just likes calling you by name, usually in her sappier moments followed by her last name She can't get enough of the way it sounds rolling off her tongue and the two of you together just sounds perfect.