#for the record this is mostly for the others to see (not followers but like juno or whoever) bc they dont check other places for shit

[abarbaricyalp]

A Precious Few, These Precious Days I'll Spend With You 🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

"Hey, Uncle Sam? Why are people on the internet mad that you and Bucky broke up?" Cass asked as he sat beside Sam on the front porch and dug out pumpkin seeds from the giant bowl of pumpkin mush.

"'Cause people think they're entitled to an opinion about our lives just because we're in the news a lot," Sam answered and deposited more pumpkin insides directly where Cass had just been almost done with the seeds.

Cass scowled at the bowl but got over it quickly. "Yeah, no, I know that one. You've said that one before," he agreed. "Mostly I meant, why do people on the internet think you and Bucky broke up?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked in his sneaky-not-sneaky way. The way he always tried to prod for gift ideas while thinking he was being cool about it. He was never cool about it. "You know Bucky is working with a new boss and we decided that was an irreconcilable difference."

Cass rolled his eyes so hard he thought he'd prove his mama right and get them stuck like that. "You're really gonna try'n lie to me, Uncle Sam? He's stealing my Fig Newtons. I saw him the other night. No one else eats those except me and him."

"How is Bucky stealing your cookies from my kitchen?" Sam asked, not cool at all. His not-sneaky side eye had disappeared and now he was staring into the pumpkin like there was anything in it. "He lives in DC now."

"Oh, yeah," Cass added. He wiped his hand on his jeans and ignored Sam's half hollered objection to that. He pulled out his phone and then pulled up a screenshot from a video call. "That's the kitchen you designed, right?" he asked, showing Sam the pretty kitchen Bucky had been walking through on their call.

"Why are you face timing my ex?" Sam asked, reaching to snatch the phone away.

"I'm trying to convince him to cut his hair." Cass kept his phone out of Sam's reach. "And! And-- and that's your head, isn't it?" he added, sliding to another picture and zooming in on a blurry spot over the back of Bucky's couch. He scooted a step away before showing his phone this time.

"Since when do you talk to Bucky on the phone?"

Cass scoffed as he locked his phone back. "I've been talking to Bucky on the phone since the first night he stayed here," he said. "He used to sneak AJ and me snacks after bedtime."

"Of course he did. I don't know what you think you know but you don't know it."

Cass pretended to count out the logic in that sentence and gave up. "What I know is: You and Bucky never broke up. He's still coming down to see you and you see him up in DC. You two made this house together and you made one up there together too. Which is so unfair. That's two of everything! Did you make sure there's a good climbing tree up there? When can I go see it? The house, not the tree. But, yeah, the tree too."

"You can't go see it. It's Bucky's house, not mine. I've never been there." Sam stood, setting aside the pumpkin hastily and retreating inside. "I was stealing your cookies and Bucky obviously just has a type," he said as the screen door shut between them.

Cass scrambled to his feet too, bringing both bowls of pumpkin insides with him before the squirrels could eat all of the seeds like they did last year. He struggled with the door and Sam was no help, but he did get inside. He set the bowls into the sink-- the same kind of farm sink Bucky had in his videos-- with a clatter and followed his uncle into the sun room.

"You're allergic to figs; you're not stealing my cookies. And I think Bucky's type begins and ends with you."

Sam sputtered out an indignation that wasn't actually words. He kept fiddling with his record player and Cass thought about telling him not to turn up the volume to drown out the conversation. He thought about telling him that was the same silly thing AJ did and AJ wasn't even a preteen yet and did he really want to be acting like a kid? Except, yeah, probably. Mama and Sam fought like kids all the time, even though they were always fussing at Cass and AJ to act their ages and behave.

"How come you're pretending to be broken up?" Cass insisted before Sam could get the record set. "It's not like it's gonna fool anyone. Not saying y'all were dating in the first place never fooled anyone."

Sam sighed and set the record down on the cradle but didn't lower the needle. "It's safer this way."

Cass made a face and crossed his arms. He'd turned fifteen two months ago (and there'd been a mysterious package left for him in the kitchen with a note in Bucky's old timey scrawl, imagine that) and everyone kept saying he had become a fine young man. But the old ladies from church still giggled and cooed when he stood like this and tried to tell AJ anything. 'Playing at being grown' they always said. He was really going for more of the fine young man right now.

"Safer like how it was safer for you to move back to DC after you became Captain America?" he asked. "And then you had to come back to save the day anyway?"

Sam shot him a sharp look but he didn't argue. Cass had never met his grandfather and he couldn't remember his daddy much at all, but he was pretty certain that look was down deep in the Wilson Family bones, genetic and otherwise. Still, he prodded closer.

"Do you really think neither of you are gonna go running as soon as the other is in trouble? Or that your bosses and all the other heroes don't know?"

"Cassius Adam," Sam warned.

Cass let out a huff. "I'm not gonna tell anyone. I didn't even tell AJ or mama. AJ would sit up looking for him all night of he thought he might be around."

Sam kind of flinched and Cass wasn't sure why. He hadn't meant it in a mean way. He wasn't even really being mean to AJ. It was just true. AJ was obsessed with Bucky and would search for him in every shadow if he might be there.

"Good, you shouldn't tell anyone," Sam said instead of addressing anything else more important that Cass had been talking about. "Remember how he used to play spies with you? Play spies again. You can't talk to anyone about anything he's doing. Even if it's just hanging out in the kitchen or whatever."

Cass already knew all of that. That's why he hadn't said anything. He'd been living with Captain America and the Winter Soldier for more than three years now. He knew how to handle it. It was kind of insulting that Uncle Sam didn't think he had this down pat.

"I'm not gonna spill," he said. "But you shouldn't lie either. What if something happens and mama doesn't know what to do, huh?"

"Happens with what?" Sam asked. He leaned back against the record stand and crossed his arms, a mirror of Cass, just a little to the left. "With Bucky? That has nothing to do with you, your brother, or your mama, alright?"

"No, but it has to do with you. What if you go running off to save him and something happens and you didn't tell anyone anything 'cause you're pretending like you don't like each other? Then what?"

"And you think that rescuing me is gonna be your responsibility?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Cass felt his cheeks heat a little. Yes, yes he did, actually. He was getting old enough for it. Elijah wasn't that much older than him when Sam first met him. "It's gotta be somebody's responsibility," he answered levelly, instead of saying any of that, cause that would just lead to a new lecture and possibly getting grounded for the rest of his life.

"It's not your responsibility," Sam corrected. "I've got grown ups helping me. Your responsibility is geometry." He pushed himself off of the record stand. The record was still on it, which Cass knew would drive Sam nuts once he remembered it in a few hours.

"If you're saving Bucky, who has your back?" Cass countered as Sam tugged on one of his curls and walked by.

"Torres," Sam answered easily.

"Nuh-uh," Cass argued. "Torres isn't an adult. You said he can't even babysit 'cause he'll let us try the wings." Cass followed after Sam back into the house and into his bedroom. He pointedly tossed one of Bucky's hoodies from the floor into the hamper.

Sam ignored him. "Just 'cause I don't trust Torres to keep you two on the ground doesn't mean I don't trust him for other things."

"That doesn't even make sense. Uncle Sam!" he whined and threw himself across the bed dramatically. He clutched the edges of the old Wilson quilt (which Sam had totally stolen from the house when he moved out) and rolled twice to wrap himself in it. "You're supposed to have backup. Bucky is your backup."

Sam pulled down the top edge of the quilt so he could see Cass's face. He sat beside him and rubbed at the approximate location of Cass's shoulder. "You're really worried about me, huh?"

"No," Cass lied. "I just don't like you and Bucky lying to us. I don't like you two being separate either. It's easier knowing you have each other's backs."

"Well, sometimes things happen and we can't have the security blanket we want," Sam started to explain, choosing his words carefully. "Bucky and I are both going to be okay, even if we aren't together. And sometimes a little bit of a lie can help. Superheroes. A little bit of a lie can help superheroes, not fifteen year olds. Bucky is running his own mission and having Captain America on his tail constantly isn't going to help him. And the same thing for me. Captain America needs a little bit of distance from what Bucky's doing."

Cass glowered and flipped the blanket over his face again. "That's lying," he insisted. "Nothing good comes from lying."

"I can't believe your mama is keeping that old phrase going," Sam sighed. "Look, can you be bribed?"

Cass lowered the blanket down again. "With what?"

"I'll let you know when he's around and it's safe, alright? You can come hang out with us if you want. You can see that we're alright."

Cass watched his uncle's face for any sign of a lie and he parsed out the offer for any possible ways out of it. Sure, Sam could say every visit was too dangerous, but Cass was pretty certain he wouldn't.

"Like spies?" he asked cautiously. "Just us?"

"Just us until your brother puts it together too," Sam agreed. "Just like spies."

After a moment of more consideration, Cass nodded. "Fine. I'll stop complaining and I won't tell anyone about it unless something goes wrong."

Sam grimaced a little (Cass knew he wanted to argue with that part about things going wrong) but he nodded too. "It's a deal."

Cass flipped the blanket over his face again and did another half roll so he wasn't facing Sam. "Can we put cinnamon sugar on some of the seeds?" he asked. "I don't like it when they're all hot."

Sam laughed a little and he sounded kind of relieved at the change in conversation. "Sweet pumpkin seeds?" he asked. "I've never tried that before. I bet we can make it work."

Yeah, Cass thought to himself, they could make this work.

[jaywhere]

moom, dad and dad are fighting over which of them is the most fucked up again :(

poolverine wip extend, ~7k. i have been confined to my tablet with a bluetooth keyboard so she is no doubt extremely messy and i am also too lazy to post in parts so we will all have to deal with that! skip to *** for the new stuff, follow-up to HER

The doorframe rattles when Logan slams it shut.

With a sigh, he shrugs off his jacket. He makes a half-hearted attempt at hanging it on one of the hooks off to the right before giving up and allowing it to slump onto the floor. His feet drag, toes catching clumsily against the transitional swell between his living room’s wood paneling and the kitchenette’s linoleum.

The world is already tolerably fuzzy as he slams open the cabinet door. Logan closes his eyes against the sound of one of his neighbors showering and crickets chirping in the distance. He pulls out a half-empty bottle of whiskey, pops out the cork, and tilts his head back to take a few slow glugs. The alcohol slides down his throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The thunk of glass against the lacquered countertop echoes.

Today had not been a good day. The last few days hadn’t been good, really — although Logan’s not sure he’s ever had a good day. But the last few had been worse than usual. The kind of days that suck you dry, leave you nothing but a husk of a man at the end of ‘em. Logan glancces down at the bottle in his hand, wondering if he should down the whole thing now.

He squints. It looks significantly more full than he remembers.

It isn’t until the bathroom door swings open to release a cavalcade of barefoot footfalls and a cloud of hot steam, that Logan realizes it hadn’t been one of his neighbors showering.

“Logan Wolverine,” Wade Wilson announces, leveling an accusatory loofah brush towards him, “it’s time to resume our eternal battle.”

Drunk, Logan stares. The cloud of steam clears to reveal an expanse of marred skin interrupted only by the bright red kevlar of the Deadpool mask. A long beat passes wherein Logan stares directly at Wade’s bare cock dangling goofily between his legs before he jerks his head to the side.

“God damn, man, put some clothes on!” Logan turns, back to Wade. “And what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before, lover.” The only warning Logan gets before a hot, wet body is pressed against his back is the damp slap of wet feet on linoleum. By reflex, he turns and shoves three ragged claws directly into Wade’s stomach. “Oh, should’ve expected that. Gonna take a second to get over that one.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Logan stares down at him, spread-eagled in the kitchenette with thin streams of blood puddling on the floor. “You are wet and naked. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Well,” Wade responds. Completely shameless, he doesn’t even make an attempt to cover himself. Logan grinds his teeth and turns his back once again. “Considering that you just stabbed me. No! And besides, I have a job for you. Since you’re obviously done with your last one.”

Logan tips back the bottle of whiskey into his mouth. A few drops escape from the corner of his lips, which he doesn’t bother to wipe away. “What?”

“It’s something silly. A B-plot. Hijinks, if you will. The type suitable for some sort of one-shot. Maybe a two-shot if we get frisky.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Logan stares out the window above the sink. The foggy, smudged surface prevents him from seeing much other than the glaring approach of oncoming cars down the highway.

“I’m talking about an adventure! Work for the good of the universe! The two amigos at it again to save the world — or at least a very specific suburb of Milwaukee — “

“Yeah, I don’t actually do that anymore.” He takes another swig. Bottle’s halfway empty.

“Okay. Well, if I am being honest, I did accept a payment for this one. About a milli, but if you play nice, I would be willing to split it between the two of us.”

Another drink. A car roars down the highway, lights blazing. A fly buzzes above, imprisoned against the glare of the LEDs.

“No.”

“Okay, fine.” Wade’s exasperated tone shatters the melancholy mood. Logan wishes he would give up and leave already. Wishful thinking, he supposes. Not even educated. “It was two milli.”

“No.”

Logan slides the whiskey back into the cabinet. Wade mutters something he doesn’t bother to listen to. Rather, Logan steps over Wade’s naked, wet, healing body, opens the fridge, and pulls out a mostly-intact six pack. With a sigh, he walks into the living room, collapses onto the couch, and turns of the TV.

“Fine!” Wade shouts from the floor of the kitchenette. “It was five milli, but if you’re actually going to take half of that, I expect a blowjob for my finder’s fee, mister!”

Logan doesn’t respond. Nothing good on at 3 AM. He should be asleep. No way he’s going to do so with Wade Wilson loose in his place. He’s too tired, drunk, and miserable to do anything meaningful about him right now. He pops open one of the beers. On screen, a lion eviscerates a zebra while the narrator drones calmly on.

Damp footfalls on carpet. Wade stands just inside of Logan’s line of sight. He isn’t bleeding any more. “Oh no, I’m bleeding all over your carpet! Whatever are you going to do!”

Logan ignores him. The lion is rooting through the zebra’s guts now.

“Come on, I know you can’t be that busy. You’ve been gone for four whole days.”

Logan’s brow furrows. His head snaps in Wade’s direction. “You’ve been in my house for four days.”

“This, Logan, is an apartment. And yeah, where do you think all those dirty dishes came from?” Wade gestures vaguely towards the kitchen. Logan hadn’t even noticed. “Also, you probably want to change your sheets. And don’t look in your second dresser drawer, please, unless you’re like, way more into me than I think.”

“Okay.” Logan sets down his beer, looking Wade dead in the eye. Very intentionally, he does not glance down to where Wade’s cock is still flopping pathetically about between his legs. “I’m being serious. I need you to get out now.”

“Ooh, it’s serious time, alright.” He bends his knees, turns to the side, and arches his back so his ass sticks out. “And what happens if I don’t?”

Logan stands up. He can’t fucking deal with this right now. He grabs his coat, stumbling over to the door. He squints against a blast of cold air.

“Come on, Logan.” Wade attempts to dramatically slam the door shut. Logan rips it right back open and steps outside. “I can’t be so repugnant you don’t want to work with me even just a tiny little bit — “

“No, you are,” Logan says, just before slamming the door in Wade’s face.

There are a few blessed moments of silence as Logan walks up the half-set of stairs leading to the parking lot. His shoulders tense when he hears his door creak open again.

“Even though I’m offering you two and a half million? This place is dingy as fuck, the X-men cannot be paying you that much.”

The door slams closed behind Wade. Logan keeps his gaze fixed ahead. He doesn’t speak until he senses Wade right behind him. “Pretty sure the X-Men don’t get paid, bub.”

“What the fuck, good ol’ Chuck — who is definitely alive by the way, don’t you even worry your sweet little heads about it — doesn’t even pay you.” Logan keeps walking forward, desperately hoping that the crunch of gravel beneath his boots will eventually drown Wade out. “That’s inhumane. Even the Avengers get paid. What the hell else is he doing with that seemingly infinite pool of money? Also, what do you mean you’re pretty sure? You are working with the X-Men, aren’t you.”

Logan takes a deep breath. Without a word, he continues walking forward.

Wade gasps. They cross into the street now, beginning to walk down the empty road. Logan’s car isn’t even here. He'd left it at the bar.

“Oh my god, you’re not. What the hell have you been doing for the last year then, man?”

“Didn’t I very specifically say that we would not be seeing each other around?”

“Yes, but then you waddled that cute little ass directly into my apartment, and held my dog, and made friends with my friends and your not-daughter, all strongly implying to the audience that we were going to live happily ever after in homoerotic bliss!” 

The sound of skin smacking against skin echoes from behind Logan. Perhaps Wade smacking himself in the face. “I thought you were the reason they rejected me again, good ‘ol Logan wants nothing to do with Wade anymore for completely inscrutable reasons, but — “

Logan’s brow furrows. “They rejected you — ?”

The sentence dies a swift death to a cocktail of rage and embarrassment as he turns and realizes that Wade is still buck naked.

“ — sunuvabitch, put some damn clothes on!”

The emotionless white pits of the Deadpool mask stare back at Logan. “I will if you come back to your sad wolf boy apartment with me.”

Logan scowls. “No.”

Wade crosses his arms and waggles his hips. “I’m the one wearing the mask here. I have nothing to lose. You live here. And you have neighbors you care about. Apparently.” 

Logan turns his head, gritting his teeth against the feeling of complete mortification. With a grunt, he clips Wade’s shoulder as he passes him on the way back to his apartment.

“There’s my peanut, always happy to see me!”

Logan throws his jacket onto the floor as soon as he re-enters his apartment. Wilson is such a fucking nut-case.

— 

“Are you sure you don’t want to get down nasty style? If it’s just about the carpet, we can lay down a tarp or something. Or we can do it in the bathroom. Always keeps the ugly bumping tidy no matter the bodily fluids involved — I highly recommend it.”

Exhausted, Logan blinks very slowly as he stares at the TV. He sucks down another half a beer before responding. “Don’t you have a girl?”

“If by a girl,” Wade calls out from the bedroom, “you mean my fabulous new therapist Lisa, then yes. She is so dumb. Knows nothing about the horrific depths of the human spirit. Never been tortured, Logan, can you believe that? Not even once. She’s incredible. She has me using this new morality app — “

Logan shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes. “I mean a girlfriend, wife situation.”

“Not anymore!”

Wade arrives in Logan’s field of vision wearing a pair of jeans which come to an abrupt end at his mid-shin. A white t-shirt is tucked into Wade’s belt, dangling pouches failing to disguise how comically large the waistband is on him. Strips of discolored skin are visible on his arms and legs. He’s still wearing the mask. He makes jazz hands.

“You look stupid.”

“You, too!” Wade points an accusatory finger at Logan. “Oh, who am I kidding? You pull it off. Why was I cursed with this glorious, mutilated twink body?”

With a huff, Wade collapses onto the couch. He places a hand on Logan’s thigh, which Logan quickly removes.

“Sorry about your girl.” Wade’s hand continues to sit placidly on the couch. Logan takes another swig of his beer.

“It’s fine.”

On screen, a family of gerbils scurry out of their burrow in the middle of a flood. The narrator dully reports that, in these conditions, the little beasts make easy prey for opportunistic predators.

“Actually, it’s not fine. You know, the really fucked-up thing is that — according to her, at least — it wasn’t the loser-era stuff, or the putting her in constant danger, or the severe mental health problems. Sometimes, things just don’t work out.” Wade turns away from Logan and stares into the middle distance. “And that, dear, readers, is a weak plotline, but it’s also real life. We all know you just want to see his one-eyed snake disappear into my wet cave and you’ll take any excuse you can get. Fuck!”

Wade throws his head onto the back of the couch.

“It may also just have been the severe mental health problems,” he admits. “She was really nice. Probably wouldn’t have said that if it were true.”

Logan drink again. One of the gerbils gets snapped up by a hawk in slow motion. “She would have,” he says. “She would’ve just said it nice.”

Wade sighs. “Yeah.”

Wordlessly, Logan hands him a beer.

“You know, I’m not supposed to drink on my medication. But this is probably enough of a special occasion.” Logan’s not sure whether it’s a joke. He’d never known Wade — any iteration — to be particularly stable. In fairness, Logan has never been either.

When Wade takes the bottle, Logan pops the top off with one partially extended claw. Wade scoffs and takes a sad, quiet drink. Out of juice. Silence encroaches.

“So,” Logan starts. “You’re back on your merc shit, huh?”

“Kinda.” Wade slouches into the crevices of the couch. For a moment, he looks pathetically small. “I’m trying to incorporate my burgeoning moral compass into my work now. Man’s gotta eat.”

“Five million dollars ain’t grocery money.”

When Wade sits up, it’s like a switch flips on in his brain. “In this economy? You’d be lucky to get a loaf of bread for 50K!”

Logan ignores him. He finishes off his beer, then sets the empty bottle on the coffee table.

“So does this mean you’re gonna help me? Or fuck me? I was hoping for both but at this point I’d take either.” He leans closer, staring out at Logan from behind his mask.

Logan sighs. “I said I’m not doing that shit.”

“Logan.” Wade’s voice is deadly serious. “My bowels are clear. But if you’re really that worried about it, I can give myself an enema first.”

Logan reaches over and takes the beer back. Wade doesn’t flinch.

“Hey, come on. You literally save the multiverse, heroically switch timelines, sidestep the life-ruining consequences of your actions. You get to live in a world where you’re a hero, and not one where all of your friends are dead. That is literally once-in-thousands-of-lifetimes kind of luck. And you’re gonna use that ridiculous stroke of luck to sit on the couch all day?”

Shouldn’t be surprising. Logan was already familiar with Wade’s personal definition of heroism. With jaw tight, Logan keeps his gaze fixed forward. His grip tightens around Wade’s beer. Fingers twitching, he downs a third of it.

“I’m honestly shocked the TVA didn’t make you go home off-screen, just for continuity’s sake. I guess they want you to be in more — “

“In case you didn’t catch that,” Logan says, glaring at Wade out of the corner of his eye, “that was an invitation to leave.”

“But you did give me the beer. Invitation extended. And I bet if I ignore your grumpy mug and stay a little bit longer, I can get you to do it again!”

Logan doesn’t respond. He’s lost track of how much he’s had to drink. The whiskey from before is just now starting to hit him, thoughts growing sluggish, warmth crawling through his limbs. He downs the rest of Wade’s beer and cracks open another.

“For real, man.” Wade leans closer, squinting. “Why are you not chilling with the X-Men. They’re all alive here. Or, like, mostly. Probably.” His head turns, glancing around the room chaotically. “Those timelines were always really hard to follow. And our whole thing just didn’t make any sense at all, so it’s probably way easier to just show up and find out who’s alive, but like, it’s definitely most of them. I saw Kurt last week. Blue. Tail. All that fun stuff. You two are supposed to be buds.”

A black hole opens up in the pit of Logan’s stomach.

“You like reality TV, right? That seems like your kind of trash.” Logan flips through the channels. The warmth that radiates off of Wade as he leans in closer is probably Logan’s imagination.

“Logan.” Wade whispers. “Answer the question.”

Teeth grit, Logan hisses, “Or else what?”

“Or else.” Logan rolls his eyes when he feels the cool barrel of a gun press against his temple. He continues flipping through the channels. “We will have to continue our eternal — oh, Love Island, I love this shit.” Logan resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You know, the US version is so bland in comparison to the UK one — wait a second, you’re trying to distract me!”

With a sigh, Logan leans his head back on the couch. His thoughts are becoming delightfully fuzzy, now. He plays the game. “You ever get that ADHD testing done?”

Wade narrows his eyes. “No.”

If Wade had come here to commiserate — to play games — Logan can be fine with that. A few hours ago he’d lifted his cheek off of the bar with red in his mind’s eye. Her hair, her fire, her blood. The last few months had been lonely.

An unnatural silence fills the room when Logan closes his eyes. Wade moves, silent and fast. Thighs bracketing Logan’s, erratically-textured palms cradling his cheeks. Chest tight like he’d been strangled. Logan’s knuckles are pressed to Wade’s ribs, all reflex.

“Get off me.” The vision of his blades slicing through Wade’s soft stomach is clear in his mind’s eye.

“Logan.” Wade’s fingers on his cheek are patronizing. “My bro. My good boy. My homie. My personal hero. That would ruin your couch.”

Wade’s body going slack in Logan’s arms. Manic twinkles of laughter in his ear. Spilled blood sucked up by denim and upholstery. Logan grits his teeth. Silence ticks on.

“Which you care about, because you’re broke, because you’re not fucking around with Chuck — who definitely pays people, by the way.” Wade’s voice is loud and annoying. “So come help me, Obi Wan. You’re my only hope.”

The sharp snikt of Logan’s claws slicing through his own skin occurs not half a second after Wade rolls off of him.

“For the last fucking time,” Logan growls. He can feel his own throat rumble, his self-control slipping as the alcohol suffuses his cells. “No.”

Wade crouches in the middle of Logan’s living room, ready to pounce. The upturned corners of his lips are visible even beneath the mask. “It’s not even a hit job. More of a rescue, really. And it’s delightfully silly. And afterwards we can do a little horizontal — “

Logan scowls. “Stop.”

His muscles are heavy, drawing him further back into the couch. He shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Wilson is a clown, but he’s not incompetent. Logan’s heart races against an impending sense of danger.

All at once, Wade collapses onto his ass. He pulls out his phone, gaze fixed on the screen. Logan couldn’t relax if he wanted to.

“Okay, I hear that you’re setting a boundary. Lisa’s been telling me a lot about those. So I’m willing to stop talking about sex. If you come with me.”

“And yet you apparently didn’t hear me when I told you to leave.”

Logan leans forward. Moonlight stretches down the length of his claws in reflection.

“Come on, Logan, we all know you weren’t being serious then.” Wade flaps his wrist dismissively. He’d probably still be cracking jokes if Logan were to snap it. “Which is definitely how it works. And you can’t say otherwise because you don’t even go to therapy.”

Logan says nothing. Wade stares at him, as if waiting for a response.

“If you did, your therapist would definitely tell you that you should come with me. And also that you should probably go hit up your good ol’ bubs the — “

“No.”

Logan stands. His patience is running out. He’s wobbly, unsteady. Wade’s fast. A bloodthirsty cacophony clamors in the back of his mind. Two kicks would leave Wade’s brains splattered across a broken television screen, a left hook could snap his neck on the edge of the coffee table, triplet blades rending flesh from his heart down to his gut leaving him flopping like a fish out of water on the carpet — 

“Fine.” Wade sighs. He stares down at his phone. Logan itches for violence. “I didn’t want to resort to this, but you leave me no choice.”

The sound of dice rolling fills the apartment. Wade gasps, turning his phone screen to display a mischievous-looking emoji with an angel halo. A beat passes with Logan’s head tilted in utter confusion.

“Chaotic heroic. I love this one. Always so weird.”

Swiftly, he pops open the velcro of one of his pouches. Logan’s eyes go wide as he pulls out a grenade.

“Wade,” Logan says. His voice is tense, pulse thundering in his ears. Wade’s attitude had felt strange — stranger — but he hadn’t anticipated this. “Put that down. This is an apartment building. There are innocent people here.”

With a giggle, Wade stands. He loops one finger through the pull ring, swinging it casually around his finger. “Oh, I know.”

Logan lunges at him. Wade sidesteps easily, laughing as Logan sprawls inelegantly across the floor. His limbs are heavy, the air baring down on him as he pushes himself up.

“I don’t know what kinda psycho fuckin’ meltdown you’re having because your girl dumped you, Wilson, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you — “

A hand held over his heart. “Wow. Last-named. The hurt. How would you feel if I called you — wait, what is your last name?”

“I’m not gonna let you kill a bunch of people for no goddamn reason.”

A swipe, dodged. Wade’s pressed flat against his front door. Logan throws his fist, embedding his claws in the wood instead of Wade’s skull. He screams as he yanks them out.

“Wow, Logan. It’s only been six months and you’ve gotten so slow! Or is it the alcohol?”

One last shot. Logan goes for his gut, but Wade’s too fast. He’s across the room before Logan’s halfway through the swing.

There’s no fanfare when he decided to stop playing games.

“Relax,” he calls from across the room. Logan watches in horror as he pulls the pin, tossing the grenade live across the living room. “This’ll only take a second.”

***

“Wakey-wakey, peanut.”

A finger taps his nose. Logan’s head throbs. His eyelids scrape like sandpaper. The sun is rising at the end of a long, thin stretch of highway.

Logan surges, movement stopped by the seatbelt.

Wade clicks his tongue in the driver’s seat. “I told you I didn’t wanna do this, Logan.”

“Sunuvabitch,” Logan mutters. His hands are bolted behind his back, ankles tied together. A thick chain secures the thick cuffs above his knees to a metal rod beneath the seat. “What the fuck — “

“Now, Logan.” Wade’s voice is chastizing, like he’s talking to a child. Logan seethes. “Before you extend those pretty little claws of yours — “

The upholstery of the passenger’s seat tears. Logan struggles only to find he doesn’t have enough leverage to slice through the metal holding the seat together. The seatbelt stretching across his chest locks his back flat against the back of the seat.

“That was literally what I just — “ Wade groans, smacking himself in he forehead. “This is why I can’t have nice things. You know I got this car from Spiderman, tricked the whole thing out, gave it a roof, and you just come in here with your little honey badger shit and just — “

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Logan screams.

“Calm down,” Wade says. “You’d think a little nap would make you less cranky. And before you ask, everyone is fine. It was just a little gas. I can’t believe you thought I would actually blow up an apartment building for fun.”

“I,” Logan rasps, “am going to fucking kill you.”

“Easier said than done,” Wade chirps. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Also, I’m driving this car on an incredibly busy highway so anything you do to me is likely to result in some random bystanders dying in a fiery car crash.”

Logan turns to look out the window. In the span of a few seconds, Wade blasts pasts one, two, three other cars on the right. 

“How fucking fast are you — “

“Uh…” The car twists into the right lane, then back into the left. “110. Thereabouts.”

Logan grits his teeth. He doesn’t know what else he expected.

“You know I’m just going to kill you whenever I have the chance.”

“And in the meantime, we have the opportunity to get in some quality time together while I convince you that — “

“Kidnapping me is not starting off on a good foot.”

“We weren’t on a good foot in the first place, Logan. And you know whose fault that was?” Logan curses under his breath as the right side wheels of the car lift from the pavement as Wade rounds a curve in the highway. “You. And you know, it didn’t have to be this way. We had a good thing going for awhile, me and you. And you had that wholesome daddy-daughter dynamic going on with X-whatever — “

“Her name is Laura.”

“ — not to say that we don’t also have a daddy-daughter dynamic of a different flavor going on.”

“You’re a disgusting son of a bitch, you know that?” Anger coils in the pit of Logan’s stomach as Wade dodges around another car. The violent honking fades out quickly.

“Very aware, thank you! But you just had to do the same shit you always do — “

“You don’t know shit about me, bub.”

“ — and leave. And being me, I was going to go look for you, but Vanessa, she’s all he has his reasons and he has to go on his own journey to figure out who he is and you need to leave people alone if they want to be left alone — “

“So your girl dumped you again and that’s my problem, somehow?”

“Something like that!” He’s wearing his suit again, leather-gloved fingers strangling the steering wheel. “So the job is outside of Milwaukee, not too far from here actually, really low-level stuff but I tried to take ‘em out last week and it was somewhat of a comical failure.”

The car jerks from side to side as Wade weaves through traffic. The back of Logan’s head throbs with a hangover — from the bottle of whiskey or from whatever Wade had dosed him with, he’s not sure. He holds in a growl and resists the urge to scream. The desire to completely lose control bubbles up in the pit of his stomach. He struggles to come up with a good justification not to.

“And I know what you’re thinking, Logan - wow, can’t believe this guy is skipping right over the emotional trauma of losing his girlfriend for the third or fourth time, depending on how you count it, and he’s totally emotionally dodging all of the important feelings that he’s feeling right now.” 

Logan closes his eyes, breathing in and out through his nose. Wade Wilson is a fucking shitstain of a human being. This isn’t new information to him.

“And you would be totally right — “ The image of Wade in blue, scrambling from rooftop to rooftop flashes across Logan’s mind. Bells jingling, laughter echoing, blood dripping from the sack thrown over his shoulder as he lobs a severed arm directly at Logan’s face. The car lurches as he skids around a little white sedan on the right, barely managing to avoid scraping the barrier on the right that stands between the car and the ditch below. “But that’s not even the point right now, because we have to break into a top-secret bse to stage a rescue mission for our comrade-in-arms — “

“Pull over.”

Logan’s head is pounding. Wade finally shuts up. The stench of his sweat is tangy in Logan’s nostrils.

“What?”

“Pull the fucking car over and untie me. I’ll help you.”

The seatbelt cuts into Logan’s chest when Wade slams on the breaks.

It’s a little scenic overlook. A car races past them, honking. Wade turns to stare at him for an unsettlingly silent moment.

“Damn, okay.”

The door slams behind him. He swings his hips exaggeratedly as he rounds the hood. Logan is overcome with the urge to rip out his throat. 

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Wade starts as he opens the passenger-side door, “but why, exactly, would you agree to help me?”

Logan clenches his jaw. Wade unties his ankles first, then unlocks the cuffs around his thighs before he glances up expectantly. Logan tries to mask the seething violence raging just underneath his skin. Given the way that Wade winks flirtatiously at him, he suspects that he’s failed.

“I’m already here, aren’t I?” Logan speaks through gritted teeth.

Wade shrugs. He unbuckles Logan’s seatbelt. “Fair enou—”

Logan’s shoulder smacks into Wade’s nose with as much force as he can muster. Wade’s body sprawls back. His head thunks loudly against first the metal barrier, then the asphalt. The tip of Logan’s boot seeks out Wade’s windpipe and bears down just hard enough to cut off his air. Wade’s eyelids flutter.

“Oh, how I hate to lose,” Wade mutters. Logan crouches to pick up the key from the ground, quickly unlocking his own wrists. “But how I love to lose.”

“Don’t make any goddamn sense, bub.” He rolls Wade over with the toe of his boot, forehead scraping against the barrier once again. Wade is dazed, groaning. Logan scoffs when he feels Wade lift his own arms for Logan to lock them behind his back.

Logan doesn’t have time for this. Or at least not the damn energy. He fully intends to get back in the driver’s seat, book it back to his dingy little apartment just long enough to grab the few important items he has. Losing the damn car should really be the least of Wade’s problems.

But when Logan stares down at him, face-down in the gravel, moaning just a little too loudly as he writhes around on the ground — he feels bad. There have been more times than Logan can count that he’s looked far more pathetic than Wade has right now. Tried to pull himself up by his bootstraps every time, completely failed more often than not.

Logan sighs. He flips Wade back over, hauls him up by the nape of his suit, and tosses him into the passenger’s seat.

He’s about to slam the door shut when he thinks to unbuckle Wade’s belt. He tosses it — pouches, holsters, guns and all — into the back seat.

“Wow, daddy,” Wade mutters. “I didn’t know you were into bondage.”

Logan scowls at him. “Don’t make me regret not leavin’ you on the side of the road, Wilson.”

“Daddy, if you wanted to play rough, all you had to do was — “

Logan slams the door in his face.

“Ask.” Wade finishes his sentence as soon as Logan re-enters on the driver’s side.

“Tired of watchin’ you drive like a fuckin’ maniac.” Logan pulls the seat up, then adjusts the mirrors. Wade keeps his mouth shut about the difference in height — smart. “Gonna fucking kill someone.”

“Fair, but you didn’t need to tie me up. We should at least pull up Google Maps so we know where we’re going — “ 

Logan pulls back onto the highway as soon as he sees a break in traffic, then turns to shoot Wade an incredulous look.

“I’m no goin’ to help you. I’m goin’ home.” He pulls into a parking lot on the left and hangs a right. The dashboard flashes 6:33 AM at him. The bags under his eyes tug at his eyelids. He wishes he was drunk.

“Wow,” Wade says. “I cannot believe the X-Man, Wolverine, is a liar.”

“I can’t believe that known asshole, Deadpool, would kidnap a guy — oh, wait. I can believe that.”

Wade ignores him. “I come all the way out to bumfuck nowhere to magnanimously kidnap you to get you out of your sad wolf boy depressive slump, just as you once did for me — well, I also kidnapped you then, didn’t I?” Logan rubs at his face, trying to tune Wade out. He accelerates up to the speed limit. “And that totally got me out of a depressive slump. Ultimate message: kidnapping works.”

For a beat, Wade pauses as if waiting for a response. Logan ignores him.

“And at the end of the day, after everything I’ve done for you, you repay me by going directly back to where you came from?”

“Yes.”

Wade leans forward. Probably trying to break out of those handcuffs — ain’t subtle. Logan hadn’t bothered to actually restrain him in any meaningful way. As annoying and insistent as Wade is, Logan can’t imagine he has much steam left for this ridiculous charade. 

“You won’t even come with me to help me on an actually magnanimous quest?”

“No.”

The silence stretches out. Wade sighs.

“Come on, man. You gotta be real with me for a second. What gives? We had a good thing going for a couple of months. Little team-up here, over at my place for dinner every once in a while, making friends with my friends. And I know the drinking was getting pretty bad — which like, if I’m saying that, you know that’s real because I have literally a full pound of cocaine stashed away in my apartment — “

He doesn’t. Logan would’ve been able to smell it.

“And you had this whole ridiculous self-hating thing about how you’re not allowed to just cheat and be an X-man in this universe. But things were good. I thought that we were building something good together. And we were going to get past it.”

Logan feels the steering wheel creak under the force of his grip.

“Oh, buddy. There it is. Come on, hit me, baby. Let is all out.”

“You wanna know why I left, Wade?” Logan snaps.

“Yes. Very clearly. That’s why I asked.”

“Because wrecking your entire world, resulting in the deaths of thousands of people, is not the kind of shit you get to just brush off and pretend didn’t happen so you can go play house with alternate versions of the people that you got fucking killed.”

He’s panting. For a moment, Logan’s eyes go unfocused. Particles of his own spit have splattered across the windshield.

“Oh, boo-hoo. So Wolvie has to punish himself for being the big evil bad guy, as if saving literally every life in the multiverse didn’t absolve him.” 

There’s a note of cruelty in his tone that makes Logan want to throw him out the window.

“Doing something good doesn’t make the bad shit you’ve done in the past okay.”

“Mm, pretty sure it does, actually.” 

There’s sarcasm dripping from Wade’s tone. Mean, self-absorbed. Logan aches for Kurt — would’ve told him that sin is in the nature of being human, that he’d already more than proven himself worthy of his continued existence, then make a joke that was actually funny.

Unfortunately, that version of Kurt is long dead.

“You see all these cars around us?” Wade gestures at the vehicles zipping by. “I’m the reason they’re all alive. They all owe me. Which means it doesn’t matter if I kill that guy, or those people, or that old lady, or — “

“You’re worse than the last time I saw you.”

There was a spark in that little rant that reminds logan of Wade — the other one. He had still been alive when this Wade had kidnapped him, at least as far as Logan is aware. Guys like the two of them are hard to kill. The way Logan had heard it, he’d gotten cut to pieces a few months after shit started to really hit the fan. Took him five or six years to come back. Logan had always figured it was the pain that had sent him off the deep end. Now Logan wonders if it was the realization of just how alone he was.

“Yeah,” Wade agrees. “I wonder if that has something to do with the fact that my people keep leaving me.”

Logan breathes in. He waits for Wade to continue, for sarcastic comments. Nothing comes.

“You know this doesn’t have anything to do with you, right?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s not you, it’s me. Oldest trick in the book.”

Logan can’t hide his incredulous reaction. “We’re not dating. You know that, right?”

Wade squints. “Tell that to the Honda Odyssey. And Madonna. And my asshole.”

It occurs to Logan that crashing the car might not be an entirely undesirable experience.

“You have a girlfriend.”

“Had. Past-tense. She left, too.”

“You know you’re just gonna get right back together after you’ve gotten over whatever kind of breakdown this is, right? And your gal’s a pretty straight shooter. Just figure out whatever it is that she wants you to figure out — “

“Not this time. All-in-all, pretty good confirmation that I am actually worth dogshit despite my magnanimous multiverse-saving tendencies. And I’m not having a breakdown.”

Logan wonders if this is what it’s like talking to him.

“You understand that these two situations we’re talking about have literally nothing in common.” Wade kicks his feet. It feels like talking to a child.

“I don’t know, feels just about a gut-stabby from my perspective.”

“We are not dating. We’re — “ Logan hesitates over the word friend. “We don’t have a thing.”

“Oh, how the mind loves to rewrite history. We definitely have a thing, peanut. Or at least we did.”

Logan scoffs. At the end of his rope, he snaps, “You are such a fuckin’ narcissist.”

“Acknowledging that we had a good thing going which was then ruined by you leaving has nothing to do with my narcissism.” He thinks he’s so fuckin’ funny.

“No, thinking that me leaving is some reflection on you is narcissistic.”

Wade leans in over the center console, eyes narrowed. “‘Bout to throw you a curveball, peanut: thinking that I wouldn’t see you leaving as a reflection on my own self-worth is narcissistic. We are just the same, you and I. Two bloodthirsty little peas in a pod — “

Logan pushes Wade away, palm spanning most of the area of his face. “You think this is how you’re going to get me to help you out? Being an annoying fuckin’ asshole?”

“No.” Logan can hear the smirk in his voice. “I think that being an annoying asshole is how I’m going to get you to fuck me. Hold on.”

To Logan’s complete and utter exhaustion, Wade takes his hands out from behind his back. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, pulling up that stupid fucking app again. He glances up at Logan, muttering, “Pretend you’re not seeing this, it made me pop a l’il half-chub when you tied me up. That shit was hot.”

The words, you know there’s a reason people keep leaving you, right? sit heavy on Logan’s tongue. He wants to punch Wade in the side of the head, drag him out of the car, slice and hack and cut until he finally shuts the fuck up. Shame immediately follows the thought. A hundred sets of lips curl around the word bloodthirsty in his mind’s eye.

Wade taps away at his phone, swearing. Logan watches him re-roll multiple times. He had really tried to tear Wade down in the Honda whatever. Wade had pissed him off, and Logan wanted to tear him down. Force him to end whatever stupid little delusion he had in his head about saving the world. 

Wade hadn’t klet him. A fucked-up kind of stubborn that Logan can’t help but admire when he thinks about it. Logan wishes he had that same level of dedication.

“Okay, fuck yes. True neutral. Nice.”

Logan sighs. Can’t believe he’s developing a soft spot for Wade Wilson, of all people.

That soft spot melts away as soon as Wade sprawls across the front seat to set his head in Logan’s lap.

His leg jerks. Wade’s head bounces but remains firmly on Logan’s thigh. “What the fuck are you doin’, you want us to get in an accident?”

“No, I rolled true neutral. So obviously, I’m introducing you to the idea that I could give you road head. But I’m not pushing you strongly either way.”

Logan grits his teeth.

With barely-contained force, he shoves Wade’s head off of his lap and pulls the car off to the side of the road. Pines as far as the eye can see. He pulls the keys out of the ignition. 

“Get outta the car.”

Wade pouts. “But daddy, I can’t. You tied me up.”

Logan watches as he tries to slide the handcuffs back onto himself. He grabs Wade by the front of his costume and spits in his face.

“You,” Logan hisses, “are bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous. Over here actin’ like this is a fuckin’ porno every chance you get cause you think that’s gonna make you feel better about your girl fuckin’ leaving. I am not your personal fuckin’ attention fountain, or your daddy, or whatever the fuck you think this is. Get out of the car.”

He throws Wade into the passenger’s side door.

Logan shoves the keys into his pockets as he walks away. He doesn’t look back. A few moments later, he hears the crunch of Wade’s boots against the pine needles. Without a word, he follows Logan.

“Oh,” Wade pipes up after they’ve walked a few hundred feet in silence. “This is like a game. We’re going to roleplay Twilight: New Moon? You know, in this universe there’s this weird tangential link between 9/11 and — “

“Shut up.”

Wade does. Logan takes a deep breath before he turns around.

There had been a lot of people in Logan’s life that he’d wanted to help only to completely and utterly fail. He remembers how proud he’d felt when he’d first heard Wade mention his ten people, that’s it. Logan had mattered. He had changed something for the better.

Wade stands in front of him, this ball of self-destruction, compulsively pushing and pulling the people around him with his stupid jokes, and Logan can’t help but feel as if he’s failed yet again.

“If I need to beat the fucking horny out of you before you can have a conversation like an adult, fine.”

Wade tilts his head. “Who’s saying I won’t beat the horny out of you first?”

“I’m not fuckin’ horny, Wade.”

The tension escalates. Logan swallows.

“That half-chub I sniffed earlier begs to differ.” Logan says nothing, jaw clenched. “How about this: winner gets to do whatever the fuck they want to the loser.”

Logan snorts. “Okay, bub.”

Wade taps his finger on his chin. He arches his back, teasing. “Just no teeth when I shove my cock in your mouth, okay? That’s no way to win a fight.”

He wags a chastising finger at Logan. It looks ridiculous. Logan desperately wishes he wasn’t into it. 

“Don’t feel like that really even needed to be said.” Logan’s eyes flicker down to Wade’s belt. No idea when he had retrieved it from the back seat. “No guns.”

Wade throws his hands up dramatically. “What the fuck, come on!”

“This ain’t bumfuck nowhere. Unless you want the fuckin’ cops called, no guns.” Logan smirks. “As if they’re gonna do you any goddamn good.”

“Fine.” Wade squints. He pulls each gun out of its holster, releases the magazines onto the ground with a dull little thud, and tosses them off to the side. “No guns.”

Logan’s claws extend with a satisfying snikt.

“And my mask doesn’t come off.”

Quietly, Logan scoffs. “Whatever.”

[bomnun]

becoming acquainted with and talking to someone who’s kind of a hobby fansite and sees shinwon almost every week widened my perspective a bit, but one of the main things it does is actually make me admire him more. his mental resilience and the way he goes to work week after week, being friendly with the fans who come to see him. he’s well aware that things are a mess and the fans are beyond exhausted too, and all of them would rather see him under very different circumstances, but he still greets everyone in a friendly way with a smile that doesn’t seem forced, and listens to and empathizes with people. his friends have comebacks, multiple of them even, and he’s always supportive of them too. i know we don’t know celebrities, but I really think he’s strong for continuing to do this, for over a year and a half, and he seems to Care and aim to be warm and supportive.

[themanwhomadeamonster]

can we like. leave fandom hate out of the main tag when dd2 hasn't even dropped yet. can we. is that still a thing people do. tumblr fandom tag etiquette. especially when you're not actually even in this TINY fandom that before the cc dropped got like 3 posts a week at best

[chlorinecake]

Thoughts on stalker x stalker??

— 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐣𝐲

▹ PAIRING: stalker ex bf ! jake x stalker ex gf ! reader

▹ SUMMARY: You and Jake, exes torn apart, developed a mutual obsession with each other overtime, the lingering romance coming to light with a simple flash of his camera…

▹ WARNINGS: BIG DICK JAKE who records a lil sextape of him fingering you because he's a helpless titty fixated perv, unprotected sex (cowgirl), some crying, a brief handjob and fingering session, kinda angsty

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

“Do you really see better with those glasses on?”

Jake's chocolate brown eyes peeked at you through his specs, a gentle hum rumbling from his throat before answering.

“No. I mostly wear them for the art student aesthetic I’m going for… now don't smile, pretty.”

Snap.

You let the small smile on your face relax at his instructions. “And the other reason?” You pressed, watching as he angled the lens a little higher over you this time.

“Hm, dunno... maybe because cute girls always ask about them?”

You hated it whenever he talked about other girls—

Snap.

Another click of his camera sounded throughout the quiet studio, it’s white flashes lighting up the dim room.

“So you like the attention then?” You teased, watching as his facial expression remained nonchalant.

Focused.

“Your attention? Yes,” he admitted, narrowing his eyes behind the camera. “Might be one of my favorite things, actually…”

Snap.

Good answer Jakey, you thought to yourself, trying your best to keep a neutral facial expression before him.

“One of your favorites just like old cameras, apparently...” you went on… “How come you never use the new one I bought you for your birthday last year?”

“Because,” Jake answered while lining his eyes up with the camera lens, “this one is much easier for me to carry around... I like that it’s portable...”

Why would he need a camera on the go, you asked yourself silently… even though, the reality was that Jake had actually dropped the other camera while following you one night—

Snap.

“Jeez, how many more shots do you need, Peter Parker?”

“You'll know when I'm finished,” the dark eyed boy replied with a foreign rasp to his tone, index finger gently squeezing into the camera button as he continued. “Now stick your tongue out for me.”

“I'm sorry?”

Snap.

His unusual sentence really caught you off guard this time, a feeling of chills washing over you as he took his lower lip into his teeth.

“Beautiful,” he said almost breathlessly, “just try following my directions next time though, yeah?”

“Jake, I need a break...” You sighed, changing your position on the couch as his vision remained glued behind the camera.

“In a minute, ____…”

Snap.

He used your first name on purpose because you used his, and he knew you were the type of girl who didn’t like that very much.

“I said that’s enough, alright?”

You slightly raised your voice at him, his demeanor remaining just as calm as before once a prolonged sigh escaped his throat.

“I suppose five minutes of wasted time wouldn’t hurt,” he said sarcastically, placing his red camera on the stool beside him before extending a hand, helping you off the couch.

“Thanks,” you replied half-heartedly, grabbing the large white sheet from the couch arm and wrapping it around your naked body.

“I could never get tired of this honestly,” Jake confessed, watching you intently as you poured yourself a cup of water from the nearby cooler.

“Tired of what?” You asked in between your first sip, his eyes being all over you except your face as you spoke.

“Looking at you,” was all he said for you to roll your eyes at his words, making him chuckle at your reaction.

“I’m serious, y’know that?”

“Mhm… I can tell,” you smirked with a nod, taking the last sip of your water before making your way back over to plop on the couch. “How about you go over your pictures… you’ll never know if we caught the perfect one already if you don’t check…”

He didn’t verbally respond to your suggestion, only nodding in agreement as he reached for the camera, clicking through its film.

To no one’s surprise, Jake, who doubled as your pervy ex-boyfriend and personal neighborhood stalker, felt himself getting hot all over again just from looking at the pictures of you displayed on the grainy screen.

Today's excuse to photograph you? He needed a nude model for his chiaroscuro themed visual project at the fancy art university he attended.

You knew Jake would’ve a hard time finding any other female (or male) to willingly get naked for him, so you obliged… under the small condition that he wouldn’t try to fuck you afterwards.

Simply put, your infatuation with him always made it easier to agree to whatever stupid favors he needed you to do—

“God,” he groaned under his breath, taking a seat as an attempt to hide the boner slowly growing behind his pants.

“Damn, are they really that bad?” You asked with worried brows, misinterpreting his reaction.

“N-no, not at all,” he corrected, eyes still glued to the camera screen.

“Oh... well… okay then,” you sighed with relief, or maybe it was a yawn?

The studio AC was set to such a low temperature that you couldn't help but feel a little sleepy... especially with how mundane this whole model process was getting to be.

“Can I see the pictures?” You asked, making Jake's eyes widen slightly at your request. He knew it'd be suspicious to say no so he instead gave in, reluctantly handing you the camera.

Clicking the left arrow on the circular directional button, the gallery scrolled, picture after picture, with each slide shocking you with how good they came out.

“Lovely, aren't you?” Jake nearly whispered from behind you as he leaned over the couch, his hands pulling your hair out of the tussled bun he previously styled it in for the first part of the photoshoot.

For the next series of shots, he planned to go for a more natural look, taking your hair down to let it hang as the scent of your shampoo ignited him all over again.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hard-on against the back of the couch, eager for any sort of friction that would ease the tension building up inside him.

You felt the teeth of the comb meet your scalp as he continued to comb, the simple act somehow making it even harder for him to control himself.

“You're really talented at this,” you said, just before your eyes glazed over the series of pictures following the one's he'd just taken of you.

Some were from recent trips you took to the supermarket, events you don't fully remember, and even a few scandalous shots of you through your apartment window, changing out of your work clothes—

“Thanks, but I prefer giving credit to the actual person I'm shooting,” he added, looking over your shoulder as you turned the camera off, just before he got a chance to see what you were looking at.

Though, from the almost immediate shift in the studio's aura, Jake had developed a pretty good inkling in his chest as to what you might've seen.

Your throat tensed up, chest expanding slightly with each exhale as a smile grew on Jake's face.

“Just let me know if I'm being too rough, alright?” He started, sectioning out your bangs as his hand slid around your neck, gently cradling your chin upward.

“Jake,” you choked out weakly, a shaky moan slipping past your lips as the comb got caught in a particular knot in your hair, “t-take your time, please...”

You stuttered, hoping in your heart that he wouldn't make a big deal about it.

In truth, you often watched Jake from afar yourself, not being able to get over your obsession with him, even months after you two first broke up…

Your eyes had a way of chasing stolen moments—the curve of his lips as he sipped coffee on his way to class, or the way his personal style slowly changed from denim coats and Timberland's to leather jackets and black boots.

You saw it all, seeking after it as often as you could… using it as a means to coax your own lonely desire for him.

Still, you couldn't quite shake how strange it was to see his gallery filled with images of you from every angle and emotion, even though it eventually delighted you to know that he wasn't as interested in other people as he let on—

“I'm in no rush, ____,” he said plainly, trying to redirect the energy in the room, “just relax for me... I'm not trying to hurt you...”

He chose his words wisely, releasing his hold from around your neck before making his way over to the wall where he dimmed the lights even more.

“I know, Jake,” you nearly whispered, wind flowing from the slightly opened windows as your voice flew with its gust…

“But how long have you been watching me?”

His wrists froze at your question, a mix of relief, guilt, and fear rising within every part of his body.

You turned your gaze towards him, eyes locking to reveal a mirror reflecting your similarly twisted desires, the tension screaming with ambivalence…

“Since we broke up...” He confessed, eerily loud footsteps sending shivers down your spine as he paced against the wooden floor, walking towards you, “does that bother you, love?”

You stammered at first, gentle grasp clinging to the white sheet around you. “It doesn't, Jake... not at all,” you finally mustered, watching as he licked his lips because God, he was such an anxious perv for you...

The way you looked before him in this moment, both fear and recognition present in your features as your body remained still as stone, every natural highlight of your skin looking even more gorgeous beneath the dim lights.

This entire moment was all too much for him… You were too much for him…

Slowly creeping towards you, his intense energy did nothing but make your arms sprout with tiny bumps all over.

“Good,” was all he said at first, trying to digest your body language while freeing himself from his jacket, “but I'm guessing there's something you might wanna come clean about, too, hm?”

“I… yes,” you admitted, somehow regaining your initial confidence, “since you wanna hear me say it so badly... I haven't exactly been able to get over you, either...”

He smirked at your honesty, “How bad has it gotten? The withdrawal, I mean... d'you ever think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Cute, but no...,” you scoffed, “I prefer hands-free fantasizing instead... less mess for me to clean up alone,” you smiled teasingly, tracing the arch of his jawline with your index finger.

It almost felt foreign when you did that just then...

You hadn't touched him like that in months... and even though the act was ordinary, it made you feel something intense—

“I need to take a few more shots of you like this,” he said randomly, reaching for his camera but not sitting on the opposite couch this time.

He stayed right in front of you, joining you on the couch and slightly caging you beneath his frame.

“Trying a new angle I see... these gonna be for your project or—”

“I'm gonna keep these for myself,” he interrupted, snaking his free hand beneath the sheet and lightly caressing the flesh of your thigh before kneading it, dangerously close to your core. “Just make sure you follow my instructions like I asked...”

You nodded at his words, letting your lower body relax as he gently guided your legs open, the sheet falling from over you boobs and exposing them to the air as he grazed your pussy lips with his fingers.

Jake nearly drooled at the sight of your hard nipples, clicking with his tongue to make you look back at the camera. “Start by squeezing your tits together for me,” he started in a low voice, “wanna see how well they’d suffocate my dick…”

The poor guy was still very much hard right now, and it didn't help him one bit with how wet you felt against his fingers, his skilled touch circling your clit as a feathery moan left your lips.

“C’mon pretty, do as I say…” Jake cooed, pointing the camera to you as you did just that, arching your back over the sofa arm while squeezing your tits together, his fingers quickening against your sensitive bud as he kept recording.

You're not sure what came over you just then, but you were starting to feel more than willing to do whatever Jake asked of you, especially when his fingers worked on teasing your initial tightness.

His digits curved against your g-spot, the pressure he applied only escalating as his stiff cock started leaking in his pants.

This entire moment felt strangely nostalgic, reminding you of the many times Jake would stand over while making you cream with just his fingers—

“Tell me when you're close, baby… beg for me to let you come,” he huffed, voice sounding somewhat labored as he intently watched your chest heave up and down, biting his lower lip to stop himself from kissing you.

Because as badly as he wanted to taste you, he had to capture your bliss on camera first, for the nights that memories become too vague... for the nights when fantasies don't compare to the real deal...

Your whole body was a mix of hot and cold, given the temperature of the room and the sexual energy meddling between your excited bodies.

“J-Jake…” you stuttered with a whine, clinging to the couch as your face flushed a ruddy hue, walls desperately clenching around his fingers, “please...l-let me come for you…”

The poor boy didn't know what to do with himself given how wet you were, his puppy-dog eyes looking almost in awe now that the realization had hit him:

He finally got you where he wanted you… and from your perspective, the likewise…

“You can let go now baby,” is all Jake manages to say before you're coming undone, the knot in you abdomen unraveling throughout every limb of your body as pure pleasure coursed through your starved out veins.

Jake kept the camera on your body the entire time, too, his digits only slowing down slightly to help you ride out your high.

He hadn't even fully slipped from your hole yet before a feeling of emptiness washed over you, lust-ridden eyes following Jake’s every move as his veiny hand retreated from your core.

He caught on to it, too... the way your eyes panned in on him like your own built in set of camera lenses... capturing every movement to store in your favorite mental file.

“Fuck,” Jake groaned around his own fingers suddenly, tasting the milky slick he gathered from your hole, “been missing the taste of you so bad, angel...”

“Then kiss me,” you whispered heavily, a clear sheen of Jake's saliva mixed with your sweet release painting the cupid's bow of his pouty lips.

He didn't hesitate to take heed to your words either, setting the camera down with haste before hovering back over you on the couch, not even guiding your face as he kissed your lips, humming into the contact.

The feeling of Jake's sloppy textured tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine, his hot breath doing nothing but heat up the warmth already present between your legs.

His heart pounded against his ribs as the kiss continued, his glasses eventually fogging up from how intense the contact was, compelling you to push him away for a seconds to remove his glasses, your own heart fluttering at his flushed demeanor.

“I need to touch you... r-right now,” you choked out breathlessly, not even bothering to cover your naked body now that the sheet was slipping to the floor.

It was a bit awkward at first, you'll admit, being completely naked while Jake was fully clothed. You grew tired of undressing him with your eyes and knew you had to do something about the issue throbbing behind his pants.

Before Jake could even respond, you were already pushing him back against the other side of the couch, his head plopping on the sofa arm with a gentle thud, fluffy brown locks framing his face.

The shadow of a smirk meddled over his handsome features as you eagerly yet patiently worked on unzipping his pants, the thick mound from his clothed hardness making your head spin.

There was really no point in taking things slow with him in this moment because its not like you two haven't already fucked each other before... only difference now was that it had been a while, so the nerves had built up—

“It's so red,” you remarked with a whisper, just having shimmed Jake's pants down enough for you to get his cock out, “does it hurt?”

“I'll let you know once you start touching it,” he let out with a relaxed breath, eyes once again focusing on the way you sat before him with your tits out on full display.

You took his comment as some sort of green light, gently taking his length in your grasp and pumping it in long, drawn out strokes.

His thighs were already trembling, hips grinding up into your first to gain a bit more friction.

“Fuck, stop teasing, ____,” he groaned with half-lidded eyes, wrapping his hand around yours to manually control the pace.

You let out a laugh at his neediness, swatting his hand away so you could take over again, “This is all apart of the foreplay, Jake... you know I'll be riding your cock properly before the night's out, anyways...”

Deep down, you were having just a little too much fun toying around with Jake right now, but given the sexually frustrated furrow of his eyebrows, you decided to be nice and just let him have you already.

Still pumping his shaft in your hand, you sat up on your knees to straddle him, lining up his tip with your entrance before letting your weight sink onto him, struggling to adjust to his size given how long its been since you took him.

A quiet curse fell from Jake's lips as he watched you wiggle past his mushroom tip, his veiny hands reaching forward to help you completely reach his pelvis.

You let out a shaky whimper at the sudden feeling of fullness, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to stop yourself from making any more pained sounds.

“There you go, pretty... nice and easy...” Jake cooed while still gripping the flesh of your hips, mostly because if he didn't, he would've started thrusting into you, “do you wanna stop?”

“N-no,” you practically blurted out, thighs still feeling tense despite how badly you wanted this with him, “I want you to make me cum again, Jakey... I can take it...”

Your words were like magic to his ears, his strong hand guiding your body against his as he left a tender kiss to your cheek before holding you in place, his dick moving in and out of you at a steady pace that escalated in a matter of seconds.

To be honest, you were shocked by Jake's adrenaline, your body already shaking beneath his arms as he held onto you tighter, grunting with each time your desperate walls clenched around him.

His balls bounced to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin making you shut your eyes tightly in pleasure, whining frantically at the mix of sensations.

Your eyes started to sprout with tears, damping Jake's shoulder as he fucked against your g-spot, making it nearly impossible for you to hold in your delighted screams.

Pouring out a string of whiny moans, your body subconsciously moved with his hips, Jake catching on to your reactions rather quickly as he whispered a sultry “You like that, baby?” against your neck, your head nodding lazily as you looked into each other's eyes, right before your lips crashed into his. 

“I missed this so fucking badly, Jake... 'missed being this close to you,” you let out weakly, one of his thumbs going to wipe the tear of moisture sliding down your face as he kept rutting into you.

“I know, angel,” he panted, kissing you on the center of your lips before pulling back, his tip reaching the furthest its ever been inside your pussy as you rocked your hips against his, wobbly pleas of pleasure slipping past both your lips before you felt yourselves reach your peaks.

“Aww, f-f... shit,” you whined, Jake's hips still pivoting against you despite how strong the orgasm was, your thighs trembling as you felt your walls tighten around him.

“That's it, baby,” Jake cooed through heavy breaths, reeling out more of your pretty moans as he rode out your high for the last time, holding you close to him, “let it all out, angel...”

You let your legs relax, just as Jake sat himself up straight, delicate lips kissing along your jawline as he whispered against your skin, “Now you belong to me again…”

And there it was, two twisted souls basking in the very web of obsession the sewed together, a lost love blossoming yet again from a matter of stolen glances and a series of clandestine photographs bringing you back together again.

You internally yawned at the feeling of Jake's lips against you, his possessive words only making your heart sing as you reached down for the sheet, draping it over both your spent bodies...

“I've always been yours, Jake,” you smiled sincerely, ruffling the hair atop his head before falling back into his embrace, letting yourselves snuggle into the plush cushion of the couch, “even when you left me first...”

▹ Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction and does not intend to romanticize the harmfully obsessive behaviors described between the two characters. Real-life stalking is not okay my guys, so please, don’t be a sasaeng and instead seek healthy relationships !

▹ Perm Taglist ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ) : @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr

[konosohn]

MDNI. top amab reader x bottom könig [manhandling, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, german]

I want him to snap my neck between his thighs. Thanks.

You can hear your security deposit saying it’s final farewell with the crack your front door makes as the wood of the jamb splinters. Though, as König presses himself into you, your (likely) damaged doorframe is the last thing on your mind. Your duffle slips from your grasp and your hands fly to his hips to stabilize him against you.

“He—” His mouth finds yours before you can even greet him. Time is a valuable resource when you spend most of it apart on deployment, and you waste none of it, eagerly kissing him back.

It’s desperate and sloppy, your tongues tracing over each other’s lips and teeth clacking together. You can taste the sweat on his upper lip and the bitter remnants of his eyeblack tracing down his face. Your hand blindly reaches for the lock and the second you hear the deadbolt click your fingers are slipping behind him and under the band of his pants.

One of your hands grabs at his ass, dragging him forward to grind your hardening cocks together. The other trails down between his cheeks, drawing a line down to his hole that has his spine tingling. Before long, you’re knuckles deep in him, spreading him open on your fingers. He moans into your mouth, hands clutching the fabric of your shirt as you skillfully zone in on his prostate.

You keep your bodies pressed together as you haphazardly make your way to the bedroom. Every step is utilized; curling your fingers inside him, pulling his pants down just a little further, pushing your aching hard-on into his hip. Eventually the heels of König’s boots hit the foot of your bed. The sheets are forfeit and you readily ignore the reality of the number of liquids and black boot prints that will find their way onto the pristine fabric.

Squatting down, you hook your hands under his thighs, effortlessly lifting his hefty frame up and over onto his back. He sinks into the mattress with a soft grunt. From this angle he looks so pliable, shirt riding up and legs up in the air, his dick lying heavy and useless against his stomach. You love seeing him like this. He towers above everybody he meets, including you, but he’s absolute putty in your hands.

Your eyes catch sight of his own mostly unpacked bag sitting in the corner of your room, clothes streaming out in the direction of the door presumably from when he heard you arrive. A small smile creeps up on your face.

You plant one knee on the bed, looming over him. Your hands slot themselves in the pits of his knees, pressing them up towards his shoulders, and you lean down to coo at him. “Were you waiting for me?”

He nods breathlessly in response, nose brushing against yours. You feel his hand slip between you to cup the erection currently fighting to get out of your pants. His fingers quickly find their way to your belt, hooking under the leather strap and undoing your buckle in record time. It’s not shocking when he nearly rips the button of your pants from its threads to get your zipper down.

His hand grabs at the band of your boxers and yanks them down enough for your cock to spring out. A breathy “scheiße” passes König’s lips as your dick slaps against the cleft of his ass. You can feel his hole twitch against the underside. It’s hot and soft, and every quiver has your cock leaking.

Your teeth catch your lip when you feel his fingers wrap around your length and give a gentle tug. It takes no convincing, you follow his touch eagerly as he guides you. You fall forward, planting your hands on either side of his shoulders. The action closes the distance, pressing your tip up against his rim.

Both of you are breathing way too hard before you’re even started, but the threat of relief after months of not being able to fuck raw until both your bodies are slick with sweat and littered head to toe with love bites has both of you by the throat.

You groan into his neck as you finally start to breach his entrance. König’s legs envelop your waist, strong thighs squeezing your sides as you sink deeper into him. His insides are tight and wet, pulsing around you with every inch. You feel the vibrations of his moans against your lips as you finally bottom out. His voice is low and sweet in your ears.

You adjust your position above him, straightening up to stand over him. One of your hands run from his ass and up his thigh to hook under the back of one of his knees again. “You feel so good, baby.” Your knee digs further into the mattress, your body weight driving your cock to the deepest parts of him until your balls are squished snugly against his crack.

“Fuck,” The air feels like it’s punched out of his lungs. His hands reach to grip at the backs of your thighs, drawing you impossibly closer.

Your fingers dig into the meat of his legs as you pull back out, leaving just the head of your cock inside him. The squelch is nothing short of obscene as you sink back in. Your arms are trembling from the feeling of his tight heat wrapped around you, squeezing you with every inch you slip in. You try to maintain the gentle pace, but as you catch sight of his face, flushed skin streaked with melting eyeblack, hair stuck to his forehead, and glazed over steel blue eyes, you lose your resolve.

The cry he lets out when you slam your entire length back in sends a wave of heat up your neck. His head is thrown back into the mattress, nails scratching at your thighs as you repeat the motion over and over, fucking into him like it’s the last time you’d ever get to. He moans uncontrollably in that raspy indelicate voice, his legs straining to spread further against the pants gathered at his knees.

Your pace is relentless as you pull back against the tight resistance of his hole only to thrust right back in. You groan in the back of your throat as he arches his back off the bed, putting his shoulders into the bed and pressing back against you. All that height and all that muscle and yet he’s still so good at getting fucked. You can’t wait to fill him up.

One of your hands slips down to run your thumb along his bottom lip, “You’re so pretty like this.”

He whines at your words, feeling the tip of your thumb slide across his bottom row of teeth. The skin of König’s ass is blotched with red from your hips. You hardly even notice the sting anymore, too preoccupied with burying your cock inside him over and over.

“Schatz— I can’t, ‘m gonna cum!” His words flood your senses, insides wringing your cock as one of his hands flys to wrap around his own dripping hard on.

You watch his fist franticly work his cock, his hips rolling back against you until he snaps. Thick ropes spurt from his slit, splattering across his heaving abdomen. Heat surges down your stomach to the tip of your dick as his hole constricts around you. All of your body weight goes towards getting as deep as possible inside him, rocking your hips against his until the warmth in your belly finally comes to a peak. Deep resonating moans spill from your lips as your cock throbs inside him, filling him up with weeks worth of yearning.

Your legs finally give out on you, and you topple over onto him. Your hips work gently against his, riding out your high for as long as it will let you. His arms drape across your back as you both bathe in the aftershocks. Your softening cock pops out of him, and your temporarily sated lust preens at the feeling of your cum seeping out of his entrance. You lift your head to look at him, and he meets your eyes with a look that’s equal parts adoring and exhausted. You press a small kiss to his stubbled chin, eyes taking on the gaze that he knows he can’t say no to. It comes as no surprise to him when you ask,

“One more time in the shower?”

[1pepsiboy]

Car video with Matt Sturniolo - Fluff! (request)

Matt Sturniolo x reader!

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: swearing, a little kissing

A/N: This one got away from me and I had to reign it back in because it's not supposed to be smutty lmaooo But here it is!

***

It’s close to midnight as Matt parks the van in a random spot at the favorite lot. The two of you got fries, chicken nuggets with sweet n’ sour sauce (mostly for him), and a large milkshake to share. You plan to do a car video to post on his individual channel.

You have no idea what you were going to talk about. Matt had fans submit their own questions for you two to answer.

After setting up the camera, which included Matt going out to check it, you start recording and picking at the food.

Matt starts the video off. "Hey everyone, (y/n) and I are here. Uhm... basically we're going to do our own car video without Nick and Chris. We don't really have a topic, but you guys submitted questions on instagram. Babe, have anything to start us off?"

Now, he looks at you as you’re mid fry. You chew quickly as possible, wiping your hands on a napkin, as he giggles under his breath.

"Thanks for the warning," you remark with a laugh. "Uhm, not really... I'm just here for the vibes."

"For the vibes?" Matt crooks a brow and looks you up and down. Then he takes a nugget and dips in the sauce.

You roll your eyes. "Don't yuck my yum."

Matt stuffs the nugget in his mouth. "Okay, Chris."

All you do is flip him off and take a sip of the milkshake.

"Just ask the questions."

"Okay, okay." He laughs as he readjusts in his seat after grabbing his phone. It's quiet for a couple minutes while he gathers them. "Oh, let's start with this one. What's our favorite thing about each other?"

"Well-"

"Oh, quick disclaimer, sorry babe." Matt shoots you a nervous smile. "I will edit screenshots of the questions onto the screen so you can see who they're from. And uh.. if you'd like to get featured in videos, follow us on instagram to see the next time I ask for questions. I'll put the @s on the screen and in the description below."

You slowly chew on your straw after taking another sip, patiently waiting for him to be done. It's already been fifteen minutes and you are almost positive Matt forgot the extra battery pack. Granted, you could've asked Nick where it was and brought it; too late.

"Okay, what were you going to say?" Matt prompts.

You think about making another snarky remark in how it'd been so long since he asked the question that you don't remember it.

Tapping the straw on your pursed lips, you pretend to think. "Well... I have many favorite things so it's an unfair question."

Matt lightly rolls his eyes. "Look, I know you love everything about me, but what's your favorite?"

"Oh, everything?" You laugh. "You think so highly of yourself, don't you, Matty B? Let's go the different route then." You look directly into the camera. "Guys, this kid will not accept anything sort of unorganized or clean. Not for more than five minutes if he can help it."

Matt's jaw drops and he snatches the cup out of your hand. "Your least favorite thing is how organized I am?"

"Yeah, live a little! You won't die if there's like a wrapper or two on your desk, or if the toothbrush isn't in the holder."

"You are an absolute monster, (y/n)!" Matt cracks. He points between you and the camera. "Don't believe a single word she says. She leaves more than a wrapper or two, and her skincare is all over my bathroom counter after she does her morning routine."

You shrug. "I don't see a problem with that, and I don't think the fans will either."

"Guys, leave a comment if you're more like me or (y/n)." He barely scoffs under his breath, eating another fry. "You're lucky you have other amazing qualities that I overlook the messiness."

Now, you couldn't help blushing. “Such as?”

Matt shakes his head, a smile spreading on his lips. “You’re understanding about a lot going on, you know, like the channels, life, and stuff. So it’s easy to talk to you about it, like if I’m ever anxious or something.”

“Top fucking notch quality right there,” you say. “Anything else? I love the praise.”

“I thought this was reserved for in private, babe.”

Your eyes go wide and you almost spit out the fry you just put in your mouth. “Matthew! Stop!”

Matt giggles under his breath. “Sorry. Uhm… You can rock a men’s polo and make the best playlists for me… Obviously you have such a vibrant personality.” 

“That I do.” You nod in agreement. You reach out to brush back some of his hair, causing some pinkness to rouge on his cheeks. “I love how cautious you are about decisions, keeps me from letting impulsive thoughts win.”

“Which is a lot,” he shoots a look at the camera.

You can only roll your eyes in response. “Anyway… You’re the most caring person I know that will drop anything to help someone you love. The only time you won’t ask a lot of questions… Oh! You’re actually the best big spoon ever.”

He bites his bottom lip, failing to hold back a cheesy grin. “Really, babe?”

“Absolutely.” 

You close the space between you, and Matt instinctively rests his hand in the crook of your neck. You crawl over the center console onto his lap when you realize it wouldn’t be just a few kisses.

Time gets away and you sort of forget that you are filming. Your hands roam each other’s bodies over and under clothes. Both of you leave butterfly kisses on the other’s neck.

The lights in the van suddenly dim away.

“Shit. Fuck,” Matt says, his lips pink from yours and hair tousled more than usual. “I think the camera died.”

“And we technically only answered one question.” You bite your lip with a laugh. 

He laughs with you, running a hand through his hair. He lays back and looks you in the eyes. “I should’ve known not to start with that question.”

“Should we try doing this again on a different night?”

Matt sighs heavily. “Probably… It would suck to scrap all the footage though.”

A smirk rises on your lips as you move back to the passenger seat. “You want to include clips of us making out?”

“Obviously no.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s just keep going then. Use my phone to record.”

Matt kisses the crook of your neck. “You’re the best, babe.”

You shoot him a look. “Be careful, Matthew.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He throws his hands up in defense. (He really wasn’t that sorry.)

*You can request others from this list or send me new ones!*

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Surfacing

"Power dynamics, they're fluid."

Session 1 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Routine patient visit and care performed. Patient is stable, mostly corporative, and only mildly rowdy today. Vitals are clear, appetite is normal, nothing of interest to report other than slightly abnormal behavior resulting in the [REDACTED] incident, pending Nurse deliberation on how to proceed with patient disciplinary action. 📋 Length of Session (w.c): 5.2k out of "we will cross that bridge when we get to it 🤠" 💊Intake Chart (tags): this is a full-blown AU with a slowww build-up, yandere-ish behavior, pet names, angst, compulsive flirter Gojo (he literally cannot help it), mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️doctor's angel’s note: there’s something very, very special about how this story was born. extended author’s note at the end of this chapter if you’re curious|kk I'm done talking - enjoy Satoru’s Psyche. 🎼 Waiting room music: Child's Play|SZA

They all worshipped the strongest. 

But no one saw the man; no one noticed the cracks until it was too late.

The first appeared after the Star Plasma Vessel mission—Gojo's near-death experience and first awakening. 

Then, it was his best friend, Suguru Geto. His betrayal, death. Murder. 

The blood on Gojo's hands left such a deep mark.

Devastation. Irreparable damage.

No matter what Gojo did after that, death followed him like a loyal dog. 

And when the final crack happened in the Prison Realm, with no distraction from his own thoughts and burdens and painstakingly harsh reality, Satoru Gojo bent..then snapped.

He can't remember what happened after being unsealed. 

All he knew was the blood that came afterward.

Apparently, he went on a rampage, but in his psyche, it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

And he didn't feel guilt—not in the slightest. 

They must have gotten what they deserved, right? 

The thoughts were deafening.

But Gojo’s natural tendency to play the hero was even louder and got the best of him. The realization of what he’d done was haunting—plaguing and persuading him like a Devil in his ear until he turned himself in to shut the voices the fuck up. 

Once again, good ruled over evil and the world was safe.

In Gojo's own sick and twisted way, he had once more saved the day.

And as a thank you? He's here, in a fucking straitjacket, seals all around to make his cursed energy dormant. At least, that's what those old fools believe…

Gojo can't help but scoff, recalling all their nonsense. 

“You're unstable. The mind needs to be healed.”

Blah fucking blah. What a load of bullshit. 

However, society never took too kindly to a little mass murder, so fine.

Gojo will play nice... for now.

And for the most unexpected reason why.

His grin only deepens, a borderline predatory look as he hears those familiar footsteps. 

Ah...how wonderful.

“There you are.”

The man waits by the door, shoulder framing your entrance and leaning on the wall. Welcoming, warm and expectantly, before the locks can disengage. 

Like many times before, your eyes meet through the window pane. A dull blue under snowy white lashes, heavy and following yours, but barely piercing the plastic—small and artificial—only a thin layer of careful separation, but you both see right through it. Neutrality on your face but wavering sharpness in your eyes. And a glint in his as the familiar buzz! ushers you into his world.

“How’s my favorite nurse?” he asks like a broken record. All casual-like, as if his arms aren’t meticulously tucked into tight restraints that work hard against his muscled frame. “Missed your favorite psychopath?”

He couldn’t sound more arrogant, but still has to smirk watching you brush past him—expecting nothing less—but feels a different air.

There’s a pep in your step, carrying you into the stark white room and making it impossible to miss the subtle sway of your hips and dangling supply bag on your arm. Naturally fluid as if you’re oblivious to its sensual nature.

Gojo rarely saw you wear any emotion on your sleeve, let alone what he thought was hints of joy, but something was slipping through the cracks.  

And what’s that? A slight grin on your face? 

What exactly do we have here?

This attitude is foreign. Better than the blank slate or frequent exhaustion you usually walk in with, but this was a side of you that was unfamiliar. 

What’s got you in such a mood, he wonders? And what else could it be, if not him? 

It’s all because today is an “okay day”. And in places like your ward, “okay” is as good as gold.

Rounds have been fairly simple in the usually chaotic hospital—a small win if you put things in perspective, but it’s enough for you to feel good about it. 

Hell, with the way things usually go around here, it feels like Christmas came early and you got just what you wanted. 

A big, whopping present called “all of your co-workers showing up to work”. The standard for most workplaces but here, such miracles only exist in your daydreams to get through your usually fucked schedule.

But not today. Today, the angels personally visited your ward to carry your burdens and lighten your load. For the first time in months, you didn’t groan the second you saw your patient roster for the day and instead had to do a doubletake because the list was surprisingly short. Only your regulars sat on it and that could only happen if the ward was fully-staffed.

You thought it was a mistake when you checked the schedule this morning, but no, everyone’s name sat prettily on the sign-in sheet at the front desk—a sight you hadn’t seen since orientation and was confirmed with every familiar and slightly foreign face you passed in the halls. 

There were no call-outs, no extra work, and the best part, no unexpected shift changes. 

Overtime would not get its hands on you today and the thought alone made you feel lighter because enough time is spent in these melancholy walls as is. 

With thoughts on the week’s end, you found yourself drifting through the day on autopilot. Wondering if you should make plans—doubtful you’ll see them through—and time seemed to be flying by with your thoughts. Following the rarely-seen routine you know like the back of your hand helped you blaze through the morning and grow closer to sweet rest for your already aching feet. 

Miracles were coming in left and right, proof that today just might be your day. It’s still early, but no one had broken out of their room or flung any property around yet. Guards sit comfy and reclined at their posts, lounging around more than they’re being called, and you haven’t even had to run off to the lockers to change your scrubs that are usually ruined by now. Luck is keeping you high and dry—free from accidents or patient tantrums, both of which are all too common. And always seem to have your name on them.

But the cherry on top, second to none, pièce de résistance.

Is a possibility.

Just the teeniest, tiniest, sliver of a chance…to walk out of these doors early. 

Be still your beating heart.

Early release?? Unheard of. You almost skipped through the halls thinking about it. Dreaming of the reclaimed time—the deliciously healthy heap of rest. 

With no signs of trouble, aside from forcing yourself to chug a wildly unhealthy energy drink to fight off tendrils of sleep, you just may be in the clear.

Things seem steady in the sleepy ward today. So sure, you’re in a relatively good mood. 

But is it good enough to deal with Gojo? 

It puzzles you, how he always knows you’re coming before he sees you. How he sort of announces your presence before you get the chance. Like the honor belongs to him.

The psychopath. 

Your head tilts at the diagnosis, hearing it come from his lips for the first time. Even if unseriously. 

He’s self-aware, at least. Not that the confession makes your visits any easier. 

Over time, after working so closely with a personality like Gojo’s, you’ve learned to take everything he says with a grain of salt. Especially when it comes from such shameless lips.

Answering his question with an eye-roll, you set your supplies down to pull out your clipboard and check his vitals. Something that once upon a time made your palms sweat and throat dry, but never showed on your face. You knew what the role required, what it would need for you to survive—intimidation and cowardice were not a part of it—and eventually, after you banged that into your head enough, even if you had to fake it til you made it, you became used to the routine.

As has Gojo, complying with each step on the checklist like it was second nature. Walking over to his favorite spot to be taken care of, the bed. Lifting his tongue to take his temperature. Offering his arm to check his blood pressure. Noting that his eyes aren’t bad today—not needing to wear his blindfold due to the security system. Doing it all without needing you to say a word. All within his control.

But the one thing he can’t get a grip on is how his heart begins to beat. Every time like clockwork the moment you lay a hand on his back to listen to it. Racing in his chest—thumping through your stethoscope—while he wears the calmest face. 

Curiosity called you after noticing it a few times once you determined it wasn’t a condition. Guaranteed to start up with the gentlest touch that he was surely used to. 

So, what exactly goes on in his mind in these moments? Despite hiding it so well? 

What could possibly be making Tokyo’s most unhinged, mass-murderer, so flustered? 

You never have much time to think about it because it won’t matter in the next few seconds anyway. Sitting still enough to get through vitals was as serious as Gojo gets, making the quickest part of your visits with him the easiest. 

Everything that follows the second you put your kit away is pure…surprise. 

“So…are you gonna undo the straps this time, sweet nurse? My arms are sore.”

He pouts. Sweetly. So devilishly charming. As he did so often with a flash of those cerulean, blue eyes that could make and break hearts.

You sigh. One could almost forget that by society’s standards, he’s a “dangerously unstable individual.” 

Something you’re acutely aware of. And trained for. Which is why you don’t mind the coquettish jabs he throws your way—and why he keeps on throwing them.

You aren’t aware but these hourly visits, along with his agreement to stay put, are the only reasons why he’s still here despite being Satoru fucking Gojo and simply walking out. It’s not like anyone could stop him if they really wanted to, and he knew that. 

Truth is—it pissed Gojo off, being stuck here. Cooperative. It was fucking irritating, to say the least. 

He’d rather be tortured than bored and might’ve second-guessed his decision to surrender if he knew the punishment would be…this. 

But lo and behold, here you are. Relief in the flesh while he bides his time. One that he wasn’t expecting.

“You sure are possessive today.” You hide a smirk, draping the stethoscope around your neck, his heartbeat returning to normal after losing your touch. “Am I really your favorite?” The leather straps hug his pale skin a bit tightly, but his mobility is good enough to ignore his request to loosen them. That would be suicide. 

He tsks, eyes sparkling at your words—a warning glimmer hidden beneath the icy gaze. 

Chilling. But the least bit surprising. 

Gojo and cattiness go together like love and war—and he wears it with his whole chest. 

Even when unprovoked, he’s known for being….testy. Trying his hand again and again until he gets some kind of reaction. Waiting to see what makes someone bite. 

But there was something disingenuous about this petty quirk. The repetition and how it seemed to lack a goal. How he seemed almost…desperate for interaction—attention—any attention.

Eventually, once you sat in his face long enough to learn how to disassociate with a straight face, you figured out that he just loves to hear himself talk. Like that one kid in class who’s always inserted themselves into every conversation and made it about them. 

He rarely gives you a hard time though—less than most of your other patients in fact—and usually sends more kisses than cuts. Occasionally, when you find them…okay, or tolerable enough, you indulge him and this charade between you two—like the high school crush it resembled. Strict. But harmless. 

And you’re only entertaining him now because he’s one of your last patients for the day. A fact not lost on him, but disregarded nonetheless. Even if you were just playing along, he knew there had to be more depth. All the masks in the world couldn’t hide that smile on your face.

His laugh breaks the tension. “I'm a yapper, not a liar...Am I yours?” He raises a brow. “You didn’t answer me earlier.”

His low tone carries an unspoken weight. Cryptic. Eerie. Needy. Almost calling you like a possession more frequently than ever.

It isn’t lost on you that his affections have blossomed as you’ve spent more time together. Visits are supposed to be 10, 15 minutes tops—collect vitals, serve meals, give meds, and avoid accidents. But Gojo? He drinks up your time. Going on 30, sometimes 45 minutes of routine maintenance and “extra care”. This wasn’t standard practice, but they didn’t tell you that, among other things when you accepted the position.

Every time you cross Gojo’s threshold, you’re reminded that you’re not actually supposed to be here. You’re just a nurse after all, not a therapist, and lacked the credentials to even begin to handle a patient like Gojo. But in the end, qualifications don’t matter when his staff has a famous history of running away. 

A fate shared by his previous nurse and therapist. Both fell victim to Gojo’s whimsical and relentless personality and suffered a mental breakdown from hell before quitting the ward. Capacity for hospitality completely shot, they nailed the coffin shut by ditching the healthcare industry altogether. 

And that was after only a few hours. 

In the beginning, you had absolutely no faith in yourself. Swore it was a sick joke as you couldn’t begin to fathom why they would even consider you for the job. 

You??

Gojo the Psycho’s nurse? It would’ve been easier to turn in your resignation right then to avoid living in hell.

You wondered how your life would change as you got to know the world’s most hated man. 

How long you would last—if he would let you. 

Anxiety and nausea gnawed at the back of your throat as time grew closer to meeting him. But eventually, after running the scenario in your head a million times over and trying to come up with some sort of plan or plea for your life, the day came, and you stood before the unpredictable man who looked like he saw right through you. 

Just the idea of being in Gojo’s presence is enough to let you know it’ll be unnerving. 

But the moment was…odd. 

Naturally, you wanted rely on book smarts and previous patient experiences to get you through what you knew would be a short and traumatic failed attempt at connection. But then you took a second to really look at Gojo, not study, but a kind of look that catches something…a conflict in his eyes—and instantly knew he was no ordinary patient. 

He was something you’d never met before, and any attempts to use a cookie-cutter facade would quickly be chewed up and spat out. 

So, you went with your gut—hoping to escape with some remnants of your sanity at least. 

Who knew you’d end up surprising not only yourself but also the Director and all the other staff in the ward who watched with held breaths? 

Gojo practically welcomed you with open arms. Flashing his pearly whites and dimples in a closed-eyed smile. You could hear a pin drop.

He didn’t bark, he didn’t bite. Only teased, feeding you sultry words with cunning lips until your face visibly flushed with blush. They didn’t warn you about charm. Debatibly the “worst” part about working with the blue-eyed lady-killer. Or that his devilishly handsome face would make you second-guess his sanity and guilt.

But you knew what this was. Or at least what it wasn’t and quickly put on blinders to every distraction he threw. Holding your breath the whole way through and surprising yourself every time you walked out his room. After your trial period had run for a few days with no mishaps—the opposite, really— you were promoted. And given a big, fat new check (certainly not for collateral). 

You didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or concern.

Congratulations! You were now in charge of Gojo’s physical AND mental health. 

Which meant longer, more thorough visits.

The idea was nerve-racking for weeks, to say the least. And because he has the nerve to be a karate-chopping ‘sorcerer’ or whatever it is that makes the man so dangerous, he needs careful safeguarding. Which means having his very own wing and accommodations in the ward. The only barriers between Gojo and doing whatever the hell he wants is one guard stationed near the entrance and some type of security system they can’t disclose to you. It’s supposed to suppress his abilities or something, you don’t quite understand itself yourself, but most importantly, it keeps him tame.

Still, choosing to grace his space almost daily always feels like tempting a snake. 

But somebody has to do it. 

And in a way, by his own means, offering a satisfied grin and all, Gojo had chosen you. 

Even in the confines of a cell, with seemingly nothing left to live for and no room for emotions, you, this wonder, have managed to catch his eye. In a way that made him want to sink his teeth in and soak up your attention. For reasons you couldn’t be more unsure of. 

“It would break my heart if it weren’t true,” he continues, sitting in the only chair in the room, “You’re my entertainment, you know? My doll to play with.”

You scoff, arms folding. The word doll echos in your ear like a chamber. That was a new one. 

“You sure talk a lot of game for someone in your situation.” 

“I love games.” He leans, eyes drinking in his favorite powdery blue scrubs that hug your frame in an all too professional manner. “Play with me, Nurse.”

Time belonged to Gojo, and he chooses to bide it with a little fun until release—or escape. His ever-changing mind hasn’t decided yet but it was far from a concern. Because the truth of this truce was painfully obvious. He knew he wouldn’t be here forever. And is quick to mention that he’d love to take you with him.

“If you can handle me.” He licks his lip. “Unless I’m too much for you.”

And there it is. That cool smile that sends shivers down spines. Irresistibly stirring your core every time he parts his lips. 

You hated it—no one could deny his charm or his intimidating presence. Even in chains, shackled and restrained, he maintains some kind of control: crumbling walls with his charisma, waving around his amorous, overassertive reputation like a big red flag.

But you’ve already proven to not be like the rest, easily swayed or reduced to puddles. Your wall is firm. Solid. He baits you time and time again—a smile here, a sinful gaze there—only to be met with dismissive yawns. Rousing something inside of him that deemed you a challenge. Something worth exploring. You were…difficult.

You’re the one who laughed this time, shaking your head and tucking a hair behind your ear. He oozes confidence from every fiber of his being—and bores you.

“Are you going to tell me what you’d like to lunch today or just keep bothering me?” 

And goddammit he has the audacity to grin. To tuck his lip under his teeth slow enough to make you catch it. 

Your insolence is adorable, yet maddening; a cocktail he drinks with delight before realizing how much he loves the taste. 

You were becoming really good at it, beating up his ego and turning a blind eye to his silly little flirts, but interest never faded from his gaze no matter how careless you seemed. Or were trying to. 

He tsks. “C’mon, Nurse. If I can’t have fun here, where can I? Besides,” Sunlight streams in from his barred window as if on cue. “You’re the only thing here worth talking about.”

Butterflies? Knots? Maybe both fill your stomach.

Neither can be good for you in a situation like this.

The dreamy words whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and stroke your ego with a delicate thumb. Soft and gentle—and from a shell of a man. 

A good turned evil. 

And you don’t have to look too far to remember how he got here—to remember why the enchanting man before you is dressed in heavy white restraints and public enemy number one. 

Guilt tugs at you for even joking around with him sometimes. You picture his victims. The lives forever changed. And how he didn’t seem sorry for it. 

Besides, even if Gojo wasn’t a basket-case, it’s hard to look past how childish he is anyway—something you heard has always been a part of him. Something you couldn’t imagine dealing with for too long, even casually. It certainly wasn’t your taste, and under different circumstances, you’d no sooner fall for him outside of these walls than you would now.

But above all of the boundaries, restrictions, and pep-talks you give yourself, is the simple fact that you aren’t the day-one nurse he once knew. Now, you have a backbone and don’t hesitate to remind him.

“You’re such a flirt, Patient Gojo.” You make sure to catch his eye when you say it, “But compliments only get you so far.”

Patient. 

It hangs in the air. Brisk and stale. A bit sour on the tip of your tongue. And acid in his ears.

With that, Gojo sits back, resting his cheek on a propped-up arm, gaze long and longing. Breathing slow as he thinks and nerves buzz between you two. Then his request comes, simple and direct.

“How about sushi? Raw and fresh.” And a psych ward delicacy.

He’s the only patient in the entire facility with such privilege—envy-worthy and used to his heart’s content. With full-scale unlimited access to all the gourmet treats and fine dining he could ever want, his meals are often better than the ones you bring to work. Gojo is above common hospital dishes, of course, and his indulgent appetite would accept nothing less. 

But it wasn’t just about the food, no, negotiating that was too easy and barely worth mentioning.

This is a conveniently constant reminder that he is still capable of influencing things and making decisions with ease, from those he’s allowed to have access to him, down to his choice of meal.

It intrigues you. How he subdues himself to the masses but finds meaning in smaller wins. What he finds significant.

But none of that mattered right now, you’d finally been given an order and another win, even if it felt like pulling teeth. For now, it’s time to feed him and let him believe whatever he wants.

You pick up his tray from this morning, scanning the room to make sure no cutlery or dishes are missing. “Sushi it is,” you wink and call to be let out.

None of his staff are allowed the room key as a preventative measure to keep his chances of escaping to a minimum. As if a door would stop him but a key does exist and you’ve only seen it on the day the Director introduced you two, and it looked nothing like the keys used for other rooms. 

When you come back with lunch, Gojo grows curious. Noticing how your body has relaxed over time, getting used to his presence every time you come in. Little nuisances like how you breathe a little easier in his space and sometimes smile with your eyes when he tells a stupid joke. The air is…changing. He wonders just how comfortable have you gotten?

“Finally back? I started to miss you.” It’s light but he can’t possibly resist testing the waters. “Would you like to eat with me, pet?” And it takes everything in you to suppress a visceral reaction.

He’s on a roll with the names today and you wonder what his affections might have been like in his life before. Sure, he’s a talker and a flirt, that much is obvious, but you wonder what his actual love was like? How did he show it if he ever got to? And if so, if he ever left anybody behind?

“You know the procedure, Gojo.” You wait with the tray in hand, brushing the thoughts away. Though the temptation savor what you knew would be premium cuisine begs you to do it, you know better than to start breaking boundaries now.

He deflates, brows furrowing. “Is it…really so necessary?” He knows the answer, of course.

You gesture for him to turn around but he holds your gaze, having a little stare down like he enjoys the silent confrontation. You raise an annoyed brow. “The food’s getting cold,” and tap the tray.

“It’s sushi.”

 You huff.

He smirks before finally facing the wall, stilling his body in the tight jacket. When you’re sure he won't move, you set his food to the side and slowly approach to attach him to the latch on the wall. 

Skilled fingers reach across his waist and you have to crouch a little to glide the heavy chain towards the loop at his hip. His skin flushes at your warmth, your proximity, as he can’t help but enjoy the intimacy of the routine power shift. Even if it was a sham, it was still one he reluctantly agreed to. To play nice. To be weak. 

But this exchange, giving himself over to your authority, was oddly invigorating—like placing himself in his victim’s shoes to get a minuscule taste of his own medicine.

“Well, don’t look so happy about it,” he chuckles. Relief finds your face as you gently tug on the chain to make sure it’s secure, amusing the man towering over you.

The thoroughness is cute, all a part of a job well done and strict boundaries that drive a heavy wedge between you two. But it doesn’t bother Gojo. Because he’s certain, he knows, that your guarded walls will crumble sooner than later. All it takes is patience.

“Remember, Nurse,” he doesn’t turn around, “Power dynamics….they’re fluid.” 

And you can almost hear the wink—the implied warning living on his slick tongue that pokes and prods with every interaction and sends heat to your rosy cheeks. 

“You have a way with words, Gojo.” Again your eyes roll as you reach for the key to his restraints. The shackles fall to the ground, shrilling in the mostly empty room to allow him to feed himself.

A mix of groans and relief escapes his lips as he relishes the freedom from the stiff leather. He sighs, “Thank you, Nurse.” and rubs his tender wrists before abruptly filling your space. Nearly knocking you off your feet, but stopping just shy of your face. The monstrous chains strain against the wall, playing tug of war with the beast of a man and the florescent lights cast a spotlight on the sudden distance between you two. 

You had never been this close. 

“But don’t forget, I can turn these roles around. Anytime.”

Twinkles play in his eyes, dazzling you with a shine so bright you can see your reflection. But you also see the unhinged nature behind them just as easily as he sees the quiver of your lip feeling his breath graze the curve of your neck and raise goosebumps on your skin.

This isn’t just idle banter. It’s a stark reminder of Gojo’s capabilities that you had grown comfortable enough to forget. That you thought maybe you had become the exception to. 

As he steps back and leans against the wall he could’ve torn down, there’s an unmistakable silence filling with tension. Hot and sharp like pins and needles. But instead of pushing you to run for the hills, to quit while you’re ahead and savor what’s left of the life you know, for once, your unrelenting mind dares to wonder where this twisted ballet will go.  

It kills you to admit that their is something interesting about cat-and-mouse game he thinks you’re playing. Just as his affections have grown, your thoughts push you to imagine what could happen if you were actually…caught..

It’s idiotic, you know. You don’t need a sign telling you not to play with your life.

This is Satoru fucking Gojo, for Godsake. The murderer. The villain. A literal stain on the face of humanity. 

Forget about what he may have been before. You never saw that Gojo, and he’ll never be seen again. 

Your motto has always been that everyone is redeemable—but these types, Gojo’s type, are so beyond saving that it feels more like babysitting than redeeming a mentally unstable murderous toddler who could destroy a city in seconds.

Even for a man who speaks so carelessly, but teases a sugary-sweet tongue, it’s easy to see how and why he ended up here. Life had made him an example.

Proving that too much of a good thing will always spoil.

And as you watch him turn a wink and begin to casually snack on his meal, completely unconcerned with you or your reaction or response, it’s plain to see that his “affections” spare no one. Not even you. 

You clear your throat and steady a breath. With the lightest voice you can muster, you remind him, “Empty threats are the best you can do, patient.” And turn to leave.

“I’ll be back later for your bath. Or maybe send someone else. Since you’re so excitable today.”  

He pauses. “Oh?”

Is that a challenge?

His laugh echoes around the room like something out of a cartoon, fading away just as quickly as it came. He leans back, hair blending into the wall as he licks bits of rice off his thumbs—gaze sharp despite the jest. 

Because the stakes are clear and you’re both aware. 

But in case you don’t know the consequences he asks, “Do I seem threatened to you?” 

You shift your weight. If Gojo is anything, he’s always playful. The man does not have a serious bone in his body, which makes him damn near intolerable sometimes, but it’s something you’re used to it. But not this tone. This tone has rocks in it, hard and heavy as he calls your bluff. 

“Because my threats—,” he continues eating, “—are never empty.” He pops the last roll into his mouth. “You sure you wanna do this?” 

There’s no denying the chill running up your spine at those words—playing out like casual banter over lunch instead of the battle royale it was.

As if the question were rhetorical, he adds, “Okay but like,” and coughs up another laugh, as if finding the entire idea ridiculous. “Who’d be dumb enough to replace you?”

To feed or not to feed? Now was a chance to bail out.

“Don’t worry about that.” And you don’t as you call to the guard, hoping to catch your break on time. “Just behave yourself.” Gojo would keep you here playing 20 questions all day if he could.    

A bemused smile settles on his face and he shakes his head at your antics. 

You were becoming increasingly enjoyable to interact with. And steadily digging yourself into a hole. You’ve been sitting front-row to the darkness within him enough times to be sure it is, in fact, very real, but still it’s impossible to ignore that there’s something driving you to pick up the shovel. 

It isn’t just his pretty face and boyish charm. No.

It’s like he wants to get under your skin. In the best way.

Yeahhhh, this death wish is turning you every way but loose.

It’s silly, so stupid to even think about. Giving Gojo a smidge of an inch just because you feel there may be something more. Like there’s depth to his pretty words and clashing ways. Who's to say any of it is “real” anyway? He is insane after all. 

Your mind and the door shut behind you, and you turn to peer at him through the small window. A mischievous yet bored look rests on his face. 

You think you actually will send someone else. Just to show him what happens when he crosses the line. To reinforce business and boundaries. 

You could also use a break yourself—Gojo is starting to feel… claustrophobic these days and if you aren’t careful who knows what could happen. 

“Choose wisely,” came his voice from within the room,. “Every move you make counts. And cheating has consequences.” Footsteps approach the door. “You may think tagging out is all it takes to avoid our game, but let me tell you something…” He stops. “...you underestimate how quickly I can escape confinement before I’m noticed.”

And suddenly, this isn’t just a game anymore. And Gojo isn’t just some harmless tease.

Your throat is too tight to swallow and you fidget with your lanyard as if responding to his words. 

Of course, he’s capable of breaking free. That’s not what’s worrying. But if it was because of you poking the bear, you trying to get on even ground with him and have the upper hand, would you be responsible if he did?

“No matter where they send you or who they send instead—” And Gojo’s comment makes it crystal clear. 

“—I promise you, you’ll end up right back here.”

extended angel's note: first and foremost, just to give credit where credit is due, this is a chatbot i turned into a short story🧍🏾‍♀️. it was actually my first time dicking around with janitor a.i. back in like...april? and i came across this gojo bot with a suuuuper interesting prompt. [all of the prompt idea and calibration credit goes to the original creator.] i didn’t decide to actually get serious and start creating a story until around the end of part 2 - i realized i was having too much fun and was in too deep 🙇🏾‍♀️. SO after my decision to indulge madness, i didn't want to run up 10000 messages on janitor a.i. and decided to create the rest of the story on my own from there.  everything after the prompt are my own words and i've had to weave every last bit of part 1 and 2 into a coherent story but everything afterwards is all me.

you can find the chatbot and play around with it yourself here but i strongly recomment doing so after finishing this short - think of it as a choose your own adventure afterwards in case you want my head on a stick after the ending 🤠.

tags list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @blkkizzat @kiwismoother @rune1920 @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @startatdawn @heijihatsutori

@inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk @rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping

@sims-4lifers @bratidol @hyunsuks-beanie @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111

@supsiii @natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko

@strawberrymilkshakes-posts @nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Slow Dancing and Slow Mornings

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Logan and you have been kidnapped and you come to find out Logan has been in love with you for twelve years.

Disclaimer: Mentions of kidnapping, explosions, hints of torture, love confessions, Logan gives you a massage. Mostly fluff, little bit of angst, and slow dancing to familiar records. Not proof read.

“What?” 

You turned in your chair to try and look at Logan, who wasn’t looking in your direction at all. 

The prick stood opposite both of you and just smiled. “What? He didn’t tell you?”

“You…you love me?”

The prick nodded as he placed his hands behind his back. “Has done. For Twelve years.”

“Shut up.” Logan said to him. 

“Logan?”

Finally, he looked at you. His expression was twisted with pain. 

“You love me?”

Logan nodded. “Have done for twelve years. Thanks for noticing.”

There was no point trying to deny it now. He had loved you for twelve years, and now you were both about to die. 

“What didn’t you tell me?”

Logan shrugged. “There was never a good time.”

“A good time?”

“Seems our courageous hero-”

Despite your hands being tied behind your back, you waved the yapper off. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll get back to you. “You never told me because there was never a good time?!”

Logan was a little shocked. “We’re five minutes from dying and you’re mad at me right now?”

“Yeah, sorta! You’ve been in love with me for twelve years and you never told me!”

“It’s not like we had years of spare-”

You shook your head. “Don’t bullshit me, Logan. You had plenty of time to tell me.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Hell, you had twelve damn years.”

Your captor sighed as he crossed his arms. “Perhaps you two can argue-”

“It’s not like I can do anything about it now!”

You looked at Logan, unsure of what to say. Fuck you? You could have done something twelve years ago? Hell, you could have done something last week? Go fuck yourself?

Logan watched as you decided what you were going to say to him. And then the cogs stopped turning in your head and your gaze focused on his soul for a moment, before it became lighter. 

“Yeah there is.”

Logan was confused, but just as he was about to ask what, you continued. 

“You can tell me if we survive this.”

“Sur-survive what?”

Then a loud crash came and everything turned white. 

Slowly, you came to. 

The blinding flash and loud crash had sent a shock wave throughout the entire room and somewhere in the rubble, you were lying down, your ears ringing and your head feeling heavier than ever. 

You tried your best to make out what everything was. The stone bricks beside you, the dirt beneath your body, the rebar poles sticking out here and there in front of you. 

Groaning, you stood before pressing a hand to your head. Bringing it back down, you found an imprint of blood in the centre of your palm. 

In the distance, you could see Storm and the others making their way over to Logan. You could have run to him. You were about to. 

Then the rubble moved. 

Your kidnapper flew through the air and towards the woods. 

So you followed. 

Logan groaned as he got up, Storm’s hand on his back. Immediately, he started looking for you. And he found you. Flying towards the forest. 

He called out your name but you were too far away to hear him. 

“Logan-Logan, we’ll go. You need medical attention.” Jean told him. But he shrugged her off. 

“I don’t need medical attention.”

With your head pounding, you landed in the general area you’d seen him land. It was a lot quieter now. The lights from the jet were barely visible through the thickness of the shade. 

And just as you turned your back, you were sent flying to the ground. 

“You still think you can beat me?!”

You groaned as you found the power to stand. “I’m still trying, aren’t I?”

“Just give up. You won’t be able to stop me.”

“Urgh!” You turned around on your heels and looked at him. “Can I at least stop you from talking?”

The prick just laughed. “Let's see if you can try and fight long enough to make this interesting.”

And you tried. You got a few of your own hits in, sending him flying through the branches and down ditches. But with your pounding head and the pain racking through your body with each hit you took, post being buried by rubble. 

Once more, you were thrown against a tree and fell into the dirt beneath it. By the time you opened your eyes again, you were met with his figure walking towards you. 

“It’s a pity really.” The pain you’d suffered from being tied in the chair a mere fifteen minutes ago twisted inside your body again, only getting stronger by the second. “You didn’t get to tell him you feel the same.”

You managed to catch your breath for a moment. “He knows…”

Your body was gasping for another breath, begging to push the pain away. “He knows.”

The man above you gave you a twisted smile before he twisted your inside a little more. “But he’ll never know how much, will he? How long you went, wishing he’d feel the same. Who knows, maybe I’ll do you a favour and tell him for you once I’m finished with you here.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “It’s okay.”

You watched as the man stood above you went from holding all the power, to holding nothing but confusion. 

“I’ll tell him myself.”

As Logan kept running, he was shouting out your name, Storm hot on his tail calling out his. But just as he caught your scent, your colour of power exploded and spread through the whole of the forest. It was strong enough to knock both himself and Storm back. 

And as he stabled Storm, he looked in what he guessed was your direction. 

“Logan, no-”

“Y/N!”

Logan kept running, his breath sharp against his lungs. You had to be okay. You had to be fighting back. You had to have won. 

But as he reached the centre point, he looked around. The smell of dirt and imminent rain clouds messed with his senses as he constantly whipped around in a circle. And then he saw it on the ground. 

The necklace you always wore. A locket lay open on the floor, face down. You never let him know what was on the inside.

Picking it up, he brushed the dirt from it and found what was inside. 

A picture of everyone lay on one side. 

And a picture of him on the other. 

He remembered that picture. He remembered you and him being told to stand together in front of the record player stand. At the time, you’d both shared the same neighbour and attended the same dinner party. And after a few glasses of alcohol and some good food, you’d all been dancing to a couple records. 

He didn’t even know you’d owned a copy of that photo. 

Folding the small picture back, he replaced the photo and snapped it shut. 

“I can’t find her.”

Storm’s expression saddened as she slowly approached him. “She’s gone, Logan.”

He looked around again. 

“Logan. She’s gone.”

Only when he turned back to face Storm did he feel the tears on his cheek. But he couldn’t face her. His eyes kept looking for you. “She’s-”

Logan’s voice broke with pain. “She’s not.”

Storm placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Logan, she’s gone. You and I both felt it-”

Storm watched as Logan’s head snapped in the opposite direction. 

“Logan, she’s gone.”

Then he pulled himself from her and started walking away. 

“Logan, where are you going?”

“I heard something.”

And he did hear something. 

A few moments later, Storm watched from behind Logan as you climbed up a ditch. 

Your face, hair and clothes were stained with blood, ash, dirt and moss. Grasping onto a nearby tree, you took in heavy breaths until you finally looked up.

“Medic!” Storm shouted. 

Logan took off running towards you. 

“Logan,” you breathed. 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You pushed off from the tree and hobbled towards him. “Just shut up and hug me.”

A few more strides and Logan had you wrapped up in his arms, tightly. All he could do was breath you in, feeling your skin bruise under his fingertips as he clutched onto you like a lifeline. 

“You’re okay? Are you okay?” Pulling back from you, but keeping your body flushed against his as best as he could, Logan looked you over. 

You had a cut on your head and other small scratches. He couldn’t check your body over due to your clothes, but he did try and feel for any more wet patches of blood. 

Then you chuckled. 

“What?”

“Isn’t there something you need to tell me, Soldier?”

Logan’s gaze ran over your face for a second too long as his brain fought against itself, trying to convince him you were okay, real and most importantly, alive. 

Then he remembered. 

“I love you,” he breathed. “I have loved you for twelve years. I love you.”

Taking his face in your hands, you looked him over as you smiled. “I love you, too.”

It took Logan a minute before he finally gathered the courage to kiss you. He didn’t want to hurt you. His kiss peppered away across your cheek, down your neck and onto your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you more, holding you in a hug close to him. 

A medic was closing in and Logan turned around, you still in his arms. “Come on, we need to get you checked. What happened to-”

“He’s taken care of.”

You looked at Storm. “At the bottom of the ditch. I don’t think he’s gonna remember what happened for a while.”

Storm and Cyclops headed off in that direction whilst your own hands brought Logan’s attention back to you. 

“Stay with me?”

“I’m never leaving you again.”

Then he kissed you. 

“Come on.”

Two days later, you were fully showered and practically boiled clean of any evidence from what had happened when you had been kidnapped. Your clothes now consisted of long pyjama bottoms, an old t-shirt and a hoodie that you had stolen from Logan’s closet. 

The amount of energy your, quite literally, explosive fight had taken from you had been a lot. And it was clear the next couple of weeks would be filled with a lot of sleep and a lot of rest. 

Whenever you woke up, it was ninety percent guaranteed Logan would be asleep beside you. And when he wasn’t and you went in search of him, you found him in the kitchen, cooking. 

“Here, eat.”

He’d place a bowl or plate of whatever he had made in front of you at the counter before sitting beside you, pulling your chair until it was practically between his legs as he sat turned to you. 

A week later, you had woken up snuggling into the crook of Logan’s neck and you stayed there for a while. Until you remembered you needed to shower. 

“Do you think you can stand for that long?”

“Probably.”

Logan kissed the top of your cheekbone as he lay beside you. “I’ll draw you a bath.”

And he did. 

And the minute you stepped into it, you relaxed against the hot water. Between your fingertips, you let your power flow around your fingers. But you jumped when you felt a familiar presence sit behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. 

“You need to save your energy.”

“All I’ve done for a week is sleep, Logan.”

“You nearly levelled a forest. It’s going to take a while.”

With his thumbs firm against your shoulders, Logan slowly massaged the tension away. A small moan left your lips as you moved your neck, giving him more access to your muscles. 

Logan chuckled. “Like that?”

“Love it.”

Logan smiled as he leaned down and kissed the top of your shoulder and behind your ear before continuing to massage away the ache.

Finally finishing in the tub, Logan held up a towel and tried his best to look away as you stood up and wrapped yourself in it. 

“You okay?”

“Yep,” Logan strained. “Just…concentrating.”

You laughed a little and blushed. “Thank you for running me a bath.”

Logan looked at you and smiled before you pulled him in and kissed him. “But next time, feel free to join me in it.”

With another quick kiss, you smirked as you walked away leaving Logan both a little in shock and a little embarrassed. He might have loved you for twelve years but sometimes he had to remind himself that you loved him back and you both now had the freedom to…do…that. 

A few hours later, after having dinner together, Logan went in search of you. You weren’t in his room, the library, outside or even the living area. 

But as he walked back past his room, he heard a familiar sound. 

Floating out from your room were the faint sounds of a record playing on the record player. Carefully pushing the door open wider, Logan smiled when he saw you. Fast asleep, curled up on your side, the record had lulled you to sleep. 

With a soft smile, Logan closed the door and reached to turn the volume down a little before approaching you. 

You felt your bed dip for a minute, but you had already recognised his footsteps and scent from the hallway. And you felt yourself smile and reach out for him. He chuckled. 

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” you curled into his arms as he lay down with you. “But then I remembered my human heater.”

“Oh, is that my new name?”

“Yep,” you replied, already hearing the smile in his voice and in his heart. 

“At least I come in useful for something.”

You smiled. “I can think of a couple other things, too.”

Logan smiled and pulled you up to him a little more. “I’m sure you can.”

Not long after that, you fell asleep. 

And when you woke up, your back was flushed against Logan’s chest, your legs tangled in his and his arms wrapped safely around you. It was still dark outside, but there was a little winter sun peaking out, way beyond the trees. 

“Where are you going?” Logan’s tired voice asked you as you sat up, his hand by your waist. 

Looking back at his bed head and tired eyes, you smiled. Reaching over to your desk drawer, you pulled out your film camera and snapped a picture. Logan groaned, putting his head between your pillows as you chuckled and stood up, placing your camera on the desk once more. 

As you stood and rounded the bed towards the record player by your door, Logan reached over and picked up your camera taking a couple of candid shots of his own, of you, as you looked for a new record and placed it on. 

“What?” Logan asked with a tired smirk as he lowered the camera. 

You smiled tiredly. “Dance with me.”

Logan smiled and gave a fake groan as he pushed himself up from his back and onto his feet, leaving the camera beside your bed. 

Walking to you, Logan pulled you to him, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck whilst his hand folded around your other and, holding you by your waist, he leaned into you. Swaying with each other, you let the sounds of the record float over you, giving you both a sense of deja vu. 

Twelve years ago you’d made friends with each other and danced at a small dinner party to the very same song. Then you’d been dragged into taking a photo together to have a memory made in time. A few hours later, you had asked for a copy of the photograph of you and Logan. 

You hadn’t really known why. You’d only known Logan a couple of weeks. But something told you, you needed a copy of that photograph. And around two years later, you realised why as you folded it in half and placed it inside your locket. 

One Logan had fixed for you one Christmas when the clasp had broken. 

And, when you had wandered into Logan’s room, in search of his hoodie, you had found a small tin box. A tin box you had opened to find it containing a couple of different sentimental things, including a couple of different photos from over the years. 

But one you knew instantly. 

Because it was the same one you carried with you every single day. 

Looking up at Logan, you found him already looking at you and your heart soared.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Leaning down, Logan pressed a kiss to your lips as his fingertips pressed into your skin through your t-shirt and hoodie. And as he lifted you a little, and spun around, you let out a small giggle. 

“Ready for breakfast?”

You smiled and nodded. “Soon. I just want to stay like this for a while.”

Logan smiled and kissed you once more, continuing to dance with you in your room barefoot, letting the sun peek out from beyond the trees before you both finally made your way downstairs for the day. 

“Okay.”

[another-lost-mc]

Your First Kiss Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.7k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Smutty Smooches Content warnings: Pining demons, anxiety/insecurity, mostly fluff and suggestive comments. Some cursing. Certain demons are a bit, uhh...steamier than others.

LUCIFER

The fireplace in Lucifer's private study crackles nearby. He feels warm from the flames, the bottle of Demonus you've been sharing, and your body curled against his.

A comfortable silence falls over you both, and it's natural for his gaze to seek yours. Your eyes are dark, and it's not a trick of the light when he sees your eyes dart down to his mouth.

Your face starts to move closer to his, and the only thing louder than the cursed record playing is the thrum of anticipation and desire that sets his nerves ablaze.

He's imagined this moment longer than he'll ever admit. He's been waiting for a sign that you wanted to go down this path with him, no matter where it leads. Now that he knows what you want, it's too late to turn back now.

Your hand rests on his chest and he can feel your touch through the layers between you - the clothes he wears, and the walls he’s put up to deter those unworthy of him.

He closes his eyes to savor the experience of kissing you for the first time. Your taste makes him lightheaded, and it's more irresistible than the finest vintage of Demonus.

He follows your lead at first, slotting his lips perfectly against yours and enjoying the sensation of your lips moving gently against his own.

When you put a little more heat into the kiss - your tongue tentatively swiping against the seam of his lips as you move your body closer to his - he cradles the back of your head and slides his other hand down to your waist. He pulls you against him and let's a groan rumble in his chest, undeniable proof of his desire and it encourages you to give him more.

It feels like all you've been through together has brought both of you to this moment, and he's been patient long enough. He takes lead of the kiss, his buried feelings for you spilling from his lips to yours, while his passion consumes you both.

MAMMON

Mammon is caught off-guard by your first kiss.

He looked away in embarrassment after telling you, in a very complicated, round-about way, that you meant the world to him.

He pretended to look at something in the distance, but his cheeks were warm. He had to resist the urge not to look at you again, to pretend that you're not the flame he's constantly drawn to.

His feelings for you are overwhelming sometimes. You're just so fucking amazing, and all his - even if you don't realize it yet.

But Mammon is like an open book to you; you know how he feels, how he's always felt about you.

When he looks at you again, he's startled when your face is suddenly so close to his.

You lean forward and give him a kiss - it's quick, and it's not perfect - but he gets the hint of what you're trying to tell him: You mean the world to me, too.

He sputters about how you shouldn't go around surprising demons like that, and he almost thinks the kiss is supposed to be a joke, but he knows that's not true. It can't be, not when you're looking at him like he hung the moon, and your smile is wide and hopeful.

The happiness in his chest threatens to bubble over, and he knows he'll never forget this moment.

Fuck it. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you back in for another kiss. It's still not perfect - you're both smiling so it's a bit clumsy, and your teeth clack together.

He wants more of you - he'll always want more. He wants to pull you close and hold your body against his, and he wants to plunder your mouth with his tongue, but not now. Not here.

He nips your bottom lip before he reluctantly pulls away, and he practically drags you back home to continue this in private.

LEVIATHAN

Levi didn't see the big deal about giving you the collectible game figure you wanted - so why the hell did you lean over and kiss him?!

It was over almost as soon as it began, a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth after you thanked him.

You're too focused on your new toy to notice Levi short-circuiting beside you on the sofa in his room.

His breathing is a bit erratic, and he rubs his sweaty palms on the denim of his jeans.

His throat is scratchy and dry all of a sudden, but licking his lips doesn't help - especially not when he tastes the evidence of your kiss: the sweet, sticky residue from the bag of candies you shared earlier.

He crosses his legs until he can discretely pull a pillow into his lap to hide the growing bulge between his legs.

You're talking excitedly about something, but he can't make out the words - his mind is still reeling from the implications of why you kissed him.

The kiss couldn't have been an accident - you leaned over on purpose, and he felt your chest press against his arm so your lips could reach his.

He thinks that maybe it was a joke at first, or some sort of tease, but he looks at you closely. Your eyes are a bit brighter, and your cheeks are a tinge darker than usual. You keep glancing at him shyly from the corner of your eyes.

He doesn't realize how long he's been freaking out until you ask him if he's alright.

He didn’t notice you spoke to him at first: he was too busy staring at you and your soft, candy-sweetened lips, trying to figure out what he's ever done to deserve you.

He swallows nervously and braces himself when he looks into your eyes properly. "Can we—can we do that again?"

SATAN

Satan’s first thought when you kiss him is that he wishes he had the nerve to kiss you first.

He likes inviting you to his room to read together - his room is lit brightly enough so that you don’t have to strain your human eyes to read the pages of your book.

However, there’s something alluring about the way candlelight and shadow play across your features. It distracts him from the book in his hands as he stares at you fondly instead.

You’re sitting side-by-side on his bed, which he prefers: the scent of the fragrance you wear lingers on his bedding, and sometimes he can still smell you when he goes to sleep.

You thank him for something - lending you one of his rare edition books, something he probably wouldn’t do for anyone else - and you kiss his cheek.

It’s such a sweet, innocent gesture but it still makes his body grow hot. It's not like the raging inferno of his anger, but more like a molten wave of affection that sweeps through him.

He’s not nervous now that he has permission to touch you, and one kiss is not going to be enough to satisfy him.

He cups your cheek and brushes the skin gently with his thumb. You bite your lip to stifle a bashful grin, and he can’t help but press his smile against your own.

His other hand finds yours on his sheets between your bodies, and he nearly whimpers into the kiss when you lace your fingers with his.

Your other hand finds it’s way onto his shoulder and you lean your body closer to his. Perhaps if he were overcome with desire he would wrap his arms around you and pull you down onto the bed.

He doesn’t want to ruin this; he decides this moment is perfect enough. You trade soft, sweet kisses in the cozy haven of his room, where time stands still and only your love remains.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus wants to kiss you desperately, but he doesn't want you to think you're just another passing fancy in his long list of ex-lovers. He feels like he has a lot to prove to you.

He can't charm his way into your heart, and he knows you want him to be honest and genuine with you.

When he admits that he loves you - more than he's loved anyone before, possibly even more than he loves himself - the cravings begin.

He craves your company, and your touch, and your kiss and your body. He craves you. But he promises himself he won't rush things, and he won't pressure you.

He wanted to go shopping - and buy you something, of course - when some idiot demon on a motorcycle nearly ran you over while you crossed the street together. Asmo wrapped his arms around you and held you close while he cursed the demon who kept driving.

He pulled you into an alley off the main street so he could check on you privately. "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you? I promise, if I ever see them again, I'm going to—mmph!"

Asmo looked concerned when he examined you for injuries, but he didn't expect you to grab his shirt collar and pull his lips down to yours.

He makes a surprised noise against your lips, then he moans when he realizes you're finally kissing him, and he can't fucking believe it.

His hands roam your body - your shoulders, your back, your hips - and he pulls you even closer as the kiss grows more heated. He can't help it, but neither can you, apparently - adrenaline is a helluva drug.

His kiss is hot and frenzied and desperate, and he feels drunk off your taste, and your lips are so soft, and his nerves tingle every time your tongue glides against his own.

You pull away first, gasping for air even as Asmo tries to chase your mouth because he doesn't want to stop.

His lip gloss feels tacky and it's smeared across his lips and chin. Your mouth is messy too, and your cheeks are flushed, and the way you're staring at him is so fucking hot.

He suddenly decides he's not in the mood to go shopping anymore - but he leads you home by the hand and promises he still has plans to spoil you tonight.

BEELZEBUB

When you're friends, you let Beel pick leftovers off your plate, or you cook him an extra large portion of food. When you start dating, he cares less about food and cares more about other things he'd like to share with you.

He's not distracted by the food on your plate, but the way you moan when you eat something especially tasty, or the way your lips shine after you wet them with your tongue, and he wonders what kissing you will be like too.

Every time sauce or cream clings to the corners of your mouth, he wants to lick your lips clean for you.

He tries to be patient and wait for you to kiss him first. Sometimes you look at him like you're ravenous for him in a way he's never seen before, but he's never been good at self-control when he's starving.

One night he sneaks to the kitchen for a late-night snack, but you're already there. You're leaning against the counter, eating ice cream straight out of the tub, and you freeze guiltily when you realize you've been caught.

Beel's stunned by the sight of you in your pajamas, hidden mostly in shadow with a spoon dangling from your lips when you start to sputter excuses.

He can see that there's a dribble of ice cream, just there, above your lip—

He takes the tub and spoon from you gently - and you smile, because you think he wants to share because he likes that flavour - but you gasp against his lips when he leans down and kisses you.

His lips are soft when they move against yours, and he sucks your bottom lip between his own.

Once the lingering sweetness is gone, all he can taste is you. You taste even better.

He freezes when he realizes what he's doing, and he pulls his hands away from your waist like he's been burned. He starts to apologize, and your face is flushed and he thinks you're upset, but then you ask him to kiss you again.

Oh fuck, you're going to be awful for his self-control.

He kisses you again, and again, and again. He whispers broken praise about how good you taste and how amazing you are between hot, opened mouth kisses against your lips.

When you break the kiss with a pleased sigh, his lips drag along your jaw. He wants more.

You're bracketed between his arms and he's crowding you against the counter. The drawer handle digging painfully into your back forces you to gently push him away.

He knows he's staring at you, and he might be drooling a little now too, but he can't help it.

You feed him the rest of the half-melted ice cream - it would be a waste not to - and lead him from the kitchen to your bedroom, where you can continue things more comfortably.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie is still groggy from sleep when he drapes an arm over your waist. You're both laying in his bed in the attic, and as much as he wants to fall back to sleep, his eyes blink open instead.

You're still sleeping, and your nose makes a cute little whistling noise when you breathe. You're so adorable.

He doesn't consider himself to be the romantic type, but you bring that out in him sometimes. In the dimly lit attic, the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling give you an almost ethereal, whimsical glow.

You look so peaceful when you sleep. Beautiful, gorgeous, mesmerizing—

He scoots a bit closer to you, and he's not sure the blankets covering you both are the reason why he suddenly feels so warm.

You're pouting in your sleep, and you murmur quietly too, and he wonders what you're dreaming about tonight.

He always feels so cozy spending time with you like this, even though you're still asleep. It gives him a chance to think about you, and the things he wishes he had the nerve to do when you're awake.

His head is resting on the pillow beside you, and he brushes his nose against yours. He smiles when you scrunch your nose in your sleep.

He kisses your forehead and cheek next - what isn't smooshed into the pillow, anyway. He peppers kisses along your skin, and he thinks about all the things he likes about you, and the things he wants to do together, and the things he'd like to do for you.

His quick kiss against your lips is impulsive. He's wanted to kiss you for so long, but since you're asleep you'll never know—

He panics when your eyes blink open and meet his.

You stare at each other. He's ready to tell you that whatever you think you felt was just a dream, but then a smile blooms across your face.

He tries to shuffle back from you, but you shuffle forward. He gives up when he's nearly falling off the mattress trying to put some distance from you, and you simply raise an eyebrow as if to ask, "What are you going to do now?"

“Nothing happened,” he says lamely, and the lie sounds as obvious as it feels rolling off his tongue.

“That’s a shame, I was having a nice dream that some handsome demon kissed me.” You roll over and sigh dramatically, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning.

“Handsome, huh?” He follows you - because he’s powerless not to - and leans on his elbow so he can look down at your cute, pouting face. “And how do I compare?"

You reach up and cup his cheek, and he can't resist the urge to nuzzle into your touch. "Nothing compares to you." The sincerity in your voice makes his throat tighten, and his cheeks are on fire, and what is he supposed to say to that?

You grin at him, and your eyes are soft and full of love for him and him alone.

He's determined to kiss that cheeky smile off your face. He lowers his head to yours and kisses you again - properly this time - and hums happily when you move your lips against his like you wanted this as much as he did.

[diorcities]

What habits the dreamies got from their gfs (like adapting her rutine style to theirs)

you ask, i deliver. i don't think any of them would read if you're a bookworm D':

thanks to sofi for the inspo ily :(

jaemin: starts baking. i think after seeing you happy baking cakes for him every chance you get he'd slowly start making cookies and muffins for his sweet girl; he'd suggest spending a day making sweets with you, especially if you smell of vanilla afterward.

mark: starts copying your speech and mannerisms. he'd start using your expressions and quirks. if you make a gesture he would immediately copy it by inertia until you point it out. he thinks you're so cool, poor guy loves everything you do so he just can't stop mimicking you.

haechan: starts sleeping with a teddy bear. gets jealous really quickly when you fall asleep and it happens to be in the middle of the two of you. the first nights he'd toss it aside so he could be hugged instead, but then when you're gone he brings it with him to bed because it smells like you.

jeno: starts liking plants. if you have a fond to take care of plants, little by little, his apartment would be filled with small flowers that he'd take care of because it remind him of you. i think he'd try to recreate your cozy apartment, and he'd probably plant your favorite flowers.

renjun: starts collecting trinkets. vinyl records, seashells, shiny little things. wherever he goes, he'd take a coin or a nice rock or a keychain because you have a habit of collecting tiny trinkets whenever you travel to have a piece of it with you, so when he's on tour, he makes sure to always bring you something with him.

chenle: starts to fiddle with members' hands when he's nervous. he's used to biting his nails as a stim until you start holding his hands and fidgeting with them to make him stop. when you're not around, he starts to grab his friends' hoping they'd do the same thing.

jisung: follow along with your jokes. they're mostly playful teasing. you have this silly habit of sharing something similar but really distorted to make it sound more awesome when he's telling a story.you both know they're not true so you begin to overdo what really happened in each other's anecdote until you're both laughing.

[fayes-fics]

Textual Encounter

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Text fic. Wrong number meet-cute over text.

Warnings: none... this is fluff and humour.

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Fic request fill for Anon (HERE). I kept it fun and fluffy, but yeah, I can see a sequel where they sext. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy! <3

Y/N: Hey Liz, it’s y/n y/l/n. Kindle Spa gave me your mobile. Said you had moved to another salon. I don’t trust anyone else to wax me tbh. Big date this week, kwim 😉 Can I get an appt? I’ll come to you. Doesn’t matter where. 

BB: Errr, I think you have the wrong number…

Y/N: Not Liz?

BB: Nope, Ben here. 

Y/N: Not a waxer, I presume?

BB: I may have waxed lyrical in my time, may even have lit a few candles. Have not waxed anyone no - my own body or anyone else’s. Yet. But I’m game to try anything once...

Y/N: Lol.

BB: Big date, eh?

Y/N: ….Yeah. Not that it's any of your business, stranger Ben.

BB: Fair. BB: Does it hurt?

Y/N: ??

BB: Getting waxed.

Y/N: Oh. Yeah. Like a motherfucker. But you sorta get used to it, tbh. And it’s so much less itchy than shaving regrowth, especially in sensitive areas… Wait, why am I having this convo with a complete stranger?!

BB: We don’t have to be strangers. BB: I’m Ben, 33, London. BB: I have no strong opinions on hair removal methods.

Y/N: lol. K. I’m y/n, 28, also London. Y/N: I, as you can see, do have some opinions.

BB: Hi y/n 👋 BB: I hope you can find Liz. Or someone else to assist with your hair needs.

Y/N: I would like it stated, for the record, I’m not hairy like a troll. I just like to keep things neat.

BB: The lady doth protest too much…

Y/N: You are cheeky for a stranger.

BB: Hey, I thought we agreed. Not strangers. Me Ben. You hairy troll.

Y/N: BLOCK.

BB: Just typing it doesn't work, you know.

Y/N: You should work at the Apple Genius Bar.

BB: Hmm, possibly. I do look good in blue. Or so I've been told.

Y/N: Always glad to provide career counselling.

BB: 🫡

4 days later.

BB: How’d your date go?

Y/N: That's odd. I don’t see a Genius Bar appt in my calendar…?

BB: iCal is a lying bastard. BB: I also assume you now can move faster through water.

Y/N: ??

BB: Waxed smooth like a dolphin…?

Y/N: 😆 Y/N: Entirely none of your business, but yes, actually. Well mostly. I leave some. Why am I telling you this?! Y/N: The guy was such a dud tho, I didn't get to show it off 🙁

BB: Please don't stop on my account. This is just delightful.  BB: I apologise on behalf of all men.

Y/N: For what?

BB: Having 4 sisters, I find the safest answer here is usually… everything, of course.  BB: But specifically, your rubbish date.

Y/N: Apology conditionally accepted. Y/N: 4 sisters?! 

BB: Only conditional? What do I gots to do to make it unconditional? BB: Yeah, I know… I’ve got 3 brothers too. My parents were really into each other. 

Y/N: IDK, serve a mean martini? Y/N: Understatement.

BB: That could be arranged. I took an online mixology course during lockdown.  BB: My sister El declared I'm better than Stanley Tucci. Admittedly, that was after 4 espresso martinis… but I'm taking it. She's opinionated but the best one. They are a weird bunch tho 🤔

Y/N: WOAH WOAH WOAH. That's a bold claim.

BB: Well, there’s only one way to dispute it: try one for yourself…

Y/N: Smooth, Genius Bar, smooth.

BB: I do my best 🤷

1 day later.

Y/N: I can't get my AirPods to work.

BB: You do realise I didn’t actually follow your career advice?

Y/N: Urgh. Inconvenient. What use are you then?

BB: As I said. Cocktails. I’ll try my hand at waxing if you want.

Y/N: Best stick to the day job. Which is…?

BB: Graphic design.

Y/N: Oh, that’s quite cool. 

BB: It pays the bills. You?

Y/N: MI-5

BB: Wow, you're a shit spy.

Y/N: It could be an excellent double bluff…

BB:

Y/N: Oh, we’ve graduated to memes now, have we, Genius Bar?

BB: It was called for.

Y/N: I’ll take it. Purely cos it's a Hemsworth.

BB: I would too, tbh.

Y/N: Bi?

BB: For a Hemsworth? Always.

Y/N: Anyone else?

BB: I’ll keep you posted.

Y/N: I'm on the edge of my seat.

3 days later.

BB: Oscar Issac.

Y/N: Good non sequitur evening to you, too, Genius Bar Ben.

BB: For the bi thing.

Y/N: Ahh. Got it. I can respect that.

BB: This is me, btw: www.instagram.com/benbridgerdesign.  BB: Figured you can decide for yourself if I'm a creeper.

Y/N: Appreciated.

3 minutes later.

Y/N: You paint?

BB: I dabble

Y/N: Modesty will only make me like you more.

BB: You like me?! 🥹

Y/N: You didn't mention you were handsome.

BB: There is no way to respond to that without me sounding like a twat.

BB: But thank you 😊

Y/N: This is me: www.instagram.com/ynhandle 

7 minutes later.

BB: Oh, Amalfi is so beautiful, isn't it?

Y/N: Wow. That's a deep cut. How far did you scroll back??

BB: 👀

Y/N: Yeah, it's beautiful. Shame it's tainted for me now. Was there with an ex.

BB: I saw. Very handsome.

Y/N: Are you sure you're not just into men full-stop?

BB: 🤷 BB: You’re very pretty, too.

Y/N: I’d believe it if you didn't mention my “very handsome” ex first…

BB: I call it like I see it. BB: I have had 4 whiskeys, tho, so make of that what you will.

Y/N: On a school night?!

BB: It’s my brother Ant's birthday. This is like non-optional drunk, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Happy birthday to him. 

BB: He says thanks. He’s also told me to get off my fucking phone. Which is rich. He is texting his wife nonstop.

Y/N: Hah! Safe travels through Whiskeytown, BenBridger 🫡

BB: I kinda miss Genius Bar…. 😞

Y/N: I can't win…

2 days later.

BB: Settle an argument for me.

Y/N: 🍿

BB: Col, younger brother, never stops eating... He claims Katz Deli is overrated. I argue it's touristy but still good. You’ve been. Where do you sit on this matter?

Y/N: You really did go thru my Insta, didn't you?? Y/N: Thanks for the follow, BTW.

BB: It's a compliment, I assure you. BB: Welcome. And same.

Y/N: Not complaining. And yeah, I agree with you, actually.

BB: Hah! Excellent!!

Y/N: Wait… your older brother is Ant, and your younger brother is Col? You’re Ben. So, like ABC?

BB:  … I already warned you my family was weird.

Y/N: You did. You did.

BB: Now, please excuse me while I go gloat.

Y/N: 👍

5 mins later.

BB: Hi. This is Col. You must be the famous y/n. Ben’s in the bogs, and the mug left his phone on the table unlocked, so this is on him.  BB: He like really likes you. Like a lot. Will you go on a date with him pls? 

Y/N: Err, ok, hi Col. Y/N: Umm, I think Ben should be the one to ask me that. Don’t you?

BB: He’s too scared you’ll say no.

Y/N: I won't…

BB: EXCELLENT.

2 minutes later.

BB: I am so SO sorry about that 😬 He’s such a shit. BB: But… do you mean it?

Y/N: Ask me properly…

BB: Would you, y/n, like to go on a date with me? Please?

Y/N: I would be delighted to Ben. 😀

BB: 🙏 BB: Are you free on Thursday? Could I take you to dinner?

Y/N: Sounds wonderful. 

BB: 7pm? Meet at Picadilly Circus? By Brasserie Zedel?

Y/N: I’ll be there 😀

BB: 😀

10 days later.

BB: I think you should know… Liz is an artiste 😮‍💨

Y/N: Stop texting me from my bed, you dork. 😘 Y/N: How do you take your coffee?

BB: I'm like 10 meters away. Why not just ask me?

Y/N: You started this, Genius Bar…

BB: Come back to bed, Mostly Hairless Troll.

Y/N: I asked for that, didn't I? 🤦

Benedict taglist, pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Preparations, Danny soon realized, were very much useless. He'd spend a while just watching the vigilante, recording his habits and schedule, following him around and taking note of the little details. Call him a stalker, but he was just trying to make sure Nightwing didn't end up in an early grave.

Not like him.

Any and all preparations Danny had made could not ever fully gear him up for actually talking to the only vigilante he'd ever met. Sure, he knew the guy from afar, but actually speaking to him? Looking him in the eye? Having the other look back at him and actually respond? The closest he'd ever gotten to letting the guy know he was there was when he left food out for him and made sure he had water, sometimes coffee, within reach at all times.

Now that Danny was here, standing in front of the door to Nightwing's - Richard Grayson, he'd learned on day three - apartment, he was frozen. Was he actually about to do this? Could he really risk it? What if Nightwing flipped out?

No. He couldn't think like that. Nightwing's a vigilante, a detective, and an officer of the law. He won't attack willy nilly. Besides, it was too late to turn back now. Danny knew way too much about Nightwing's life to back off now.

Not allowing himself to hesitate any longer, he reached up and pressed the doorbell. He didn't hear the sound, but shuffling from inside alerted him that the man he'd come to see was now moving towards him.

'I hope this goes well,' Danny thought. Then, the door opened. "Good, at least you're taking care of yourself and actually eating proper foods. Now, I'm here to discuss your extracurriculars and how to time manage them properly without running yourself into the ground." He didn't mean to enter the apartment uninvited, but he didn't want to risk Nightwing closing the door on him or something. "I've brought my own board with an ideal itinerary that I expect you to follow." He turned to look at the man. "Any questions?"

Nightwing rook a second to process the words. Then, he said, "Yeah, just one: Who the fuck are you, kid?"

Well, he was in this deep, might as well dig himself a deeper grave. "I would say I'm your new legal guardian, but you're older than me and I can't exactly adopt a fully grown adult." Right? Yeah. Danny sat down stiffly, his bag on the floor and leaning against his leg. He pulled out the binder he'd cleared out and dedicated to helping the older vigilante and put it on the table. "I could say that you're my new legal guardian, but we run into a similar problem." Kind of. Being dead is a legal barrier, so adoption's off the table. Transferred custody on the other hand? Well, he's got that taken care of. Though, he had to wonder, "Could you adopt me?" No, he couldn't think of a way that would work. "No matter."

Nightwing, still standing by the open door, shook his head a bit as if to clear his mind. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

Introductions? Yikes. "I'm Danny! Nice to meet you!" He had no idea how he's not completely bombed this yet, but he wasn't going to complain.

Nightwing didn't move from the door, let alone shake his hand. Danny put it back on his lap. "Likewise, I guess."

"What, no name?" Was that pushing it?

"I'm optimistic, not an idiot." Yeah, he'd towed the line a bit.

Shrugging to try and rid himself of the nervous butterflies in his stomach, Danny opened the binder to the front page. It was mostly so he'd have something to do with his hands, but it proved to be a decent distraction for Nightwing, too. Though, he pushed down a blush when he saw the glittery blue writing. It was the only other pen he had on him and he'd stolen it from Jazz.

The distraction didn't last. "How did you find this place?" Nightwing asked, the door still wide open.

"Doesn't matter." He didn't think the vigilante would take kindly to being stalked followed around the subject of a kid's curiosity.

Nightwing very much did not seem to believe him. "Why do you think I have a day job and a night job?"

Did he- Oh. The man was probably holding out some kind of hope that Danny wasn't saying what he was saying. Oops. Should he apologise? "I'm a realist, not an idiot."

Throwing the words back at him was probably not the best decision. Then, again, Danny hadn't made a whole lot of good decisions since he'd stepped foot in Bludhaven. At least here, there was a chance he could get away with it, relatively scot free. Imagine if he were in Gotham? With how violent Batman got recently? No thank you. He'd rather take his chances with his parents.

Danny did his best to not clear his throat as he flipped to the next page. "First thing's first. Why do you do what you do? Why go out at night to fight crime when, I assume, that's what your day job is for? Why hurt yourself to help other people?"

Those were all questions he'd had to ask himself before the portal destabilized. Why did he do what he does? Why risk himself to help the people who'd never thank him for his help? Why put his life on hold to do the job of adults?

He'd thought he'd had solid answers for them back then, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Regardless, this was a good place as any to start helping Nightwing.

If he could help just this one person, he'd be satisfied.

Part 3 Part 5

Tag List: @flame-343

[sincerelymina]

invisible string

content ꒰ 2.3k ꒱ re4r leon x female reader. fluff! reader is friends with ashley. short & sweet. no warnings really. both reader & leon are hopeless romantics. and also bookworms apparently. mentions of the women in leon's life. french people slander. spoilers for the stranger by camus. not proofread, as usual. i miss autumn dearly. author's note i watched before sunrise the other night and it made me believe in love again for a second there. def recommend if you haven't seen it !! also listened to champagne coast by blood orange on repeat while writing this hehe. reblogs & comments are always very appreciated. ꣑ৎ

"He's, like, really gorgeous," your closest friend, Ashley, sighs dreamily, walking hand-in-hand with you towards the train station. The chilly October air nips at both of your cheeks, hers flushed red. "I think you'll really like him."

Given her track record, you'll be the judge of that.

"I dunno Ash," you shrug, giving the girl a lopsided smile in a poor attempt to reassure her, "He's a blonde. Are you sure he isn't the devil reincarnate?" You deadpan with a sip from your stale coffee.

At her frown, you sigh, "...I guess he did save your life."

Ashley had been dying to introduce you to Leon, whom she barely hung out with herself; his schedule was chaotic, like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Between his personal life (or lack thereof) and missions in foreign countries, he almost never had the time. But finally, he had a day off, one he could dedicate to the President's daughter—and you.

"Trust me, Leon's a total sweetheart," she says as the two of you step onto the train, "He might not look it, but deep down, he's a big softie."

"If you say so," you mumble more to yourself than to her.

Gorgeous was an understatement. Through the glass windows of the café, you see Leon sitting in the corner near the record player, his blonde locks falling in front of his pretty face. A worn book is poised between his index finger and his thumb; Camus, how predictable.

The small bell above the door chimes softly as you both stumble inside, Ashley quickly waving with her sugary sweet smile at the sight of her little knight in shining armor. Oh, you had no chance with him if she was around. Your smile pales in comparison to hers; awkward and stiff.

Whatever, you didn't owe this stranger anything. Even if he was perfect in every way imaginable.

Leon smiles back at Ashley, then stares at you momentarily, before gesturing for the two of you to come on over. You have to fight the urge to physically cringe; the look he gave you felt so...weird. It wasn't exactly a nasty scowl, but it also wasn't a polite grin.

"Leon! How've you been?" The blonde gushes, taking a seat across from him; you follow right next to her. Before he gets the chance to reply, Ashley introduces you as well, "This is my friend I'm always talking about. She's the best girl I know."

You offer him a half-hearted smile, paired with a little shy shrug; damn, this man had you acting a fool already. To your surprise, he smiles back, albeit a little tensely, and nods, "It's nice to meet you."

"Like wise."

Ashley keeps the conversation afloat, mostly asking Leon about his missions—vaguely, of course, given their classified nature—and life in general. He'd reply and return the questions back to her, while you sat there with a constipated expression plastered onto your face, feeling completely out of place. Obviously, they weren't deliberately trying to single you out, but your attempts at trying to chime in had gone unnoticed. More like ignored.

You felt like a fucking third wheeler.

At least, until Ashley excused herself, claiming she needed to go to the bathroom "real quickly." Five minutes of awkward silence had already passed, mixed in with the occasional this coffee's really good and it's kind of cold in here. Leon looks at you, you look at him. Then out the window at the red and orange fallen leaves, and lastly, to the wall adjacent, just...admiring the vinyls on display.

Your eyes land upon his book, set haphazardly next to the ceramic mug, and then it hits you: you've read The Stranger, you can make conversation! At least, enough conversation until Ashley came back.

Breaking the unbearable silence, you say, meeting his gaze, "So...Camus."

Leon looks at the book, then at you, "What about him?" An inscrutable look etched itself onto his perfect features.

Ouch. Still, you persevere, "Have you read the book before? I wouldn't want to spoil it for you."

You take a sip of your vanilla latte, a maroonish lipstick mark left on the rim; this was much better than the sad cup of coffee you drank in the morning.

He chuckles, running a hand through his blonde locks. "Only a million times." Cheesy, but you could work with it. "I love French literature."

You shrug, feigning disinterest, "The French suck though."

But, not wanting to burst his bubble, you add, "The whole concept of absurdism really stuck with me, I have to admit. Sometimes I wish I could be as indifferent as Meursault. He just...doesn't care." You laugh, the words flowing so naturally it shocked you.

"Just drifting through life without any real purpose?" Leon adds for you with a light scoff, his gaze softening a bit. "In my dreams. I liked how the trial was more of a judgement of his character rather than his actions. It's almost as if the real crime was his nonchalance towards his mother's death."

That's the most you've heard Leon talk in the half an hour you'd known him. He looked so cute, explaining the parts of the book he enjoyed. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

You're both fully engrossed in each other and your shared taste in literature, the outside world fading into a blur. You can't even seem to notice Ashley, who finally returns with a sly look on her pretty face. She slides in right next to you, clasping her hands together above the table.

"Wow, you two seem to be really hitting it off." Oh, her disappearance was so deliberate. Her voice snaps you both out of your little trance.

All her comment earns are two awkward chuckles and averting gazes. It's like everything's falling into place, just how she wanted it to, so seamlessly. Ashley really was pretty good at this whole matchmaker thing. Hell, she could give Cupid a run for his money.

The more you got to know Leon, the more that sweetness Ashley had mentioned began to seep through his rough exterior, like the morning sun pouring in through parted curtains.

Now it was her getting sidelined.

Leon was slowly falling in love with you.

He couldn't help himself. Despite his awful luck with women in the past, he still found himself gazing longingly at you, wishing you were in his arms. After the little get-together with Ashley, you two exchanged numbers, started hanging out together without her. You called that night before bed. His heart nearly skipped a beat.

You were just a college girl who did ballet and enjoyed the same music & literature as him; you couldn't be like Ada, right? An ordinary civilian, someone who hadn't seen the things he and his old flame had. He felt some semblance of normalcy around you, something he couldn't even feel with Ashley or Claire. It was so refreshing.

Ever since Leon met you, he no longer found himself picking up random women at bars for meaningless sex. Almost as if he was remaining faithful and loyal to you, even if you weren't together.

He was smitten.

No one, not even the woman in the red dress, the President's doe-eyed daughter, or his closest friend, could steal his attention away from you. They were all very beautiful, Leon had to admit, but you were ethereal. Out of this fucking world.

When you called asking if he wanted to come over and watch a movie together, Leon felt his cheeks go hot, regardless of the biting cold December winds outside. He was walking back to his apartment after a rather unsuccessful mission; every muscle in his body ached, exhaustion creeping beneath his skin. But he couldn't leave you hanging.

"Yeah, sure." He manages to reply. "What movie?"

"Before sunrise." You say; Leon found your choice interesting. "It's one of my favorites. Have you seen it?"

"Who hasn't?" Leon chuckles. "I'll be over soon. Gotta take care of a few things first." He desperately needed a steaming hot shower after whatever the fuck his last mission was.

"Okay, great." He can almost hear the smile through your tone. "See ya."

Come two hours, and Leon's standing in your doorway, in all his blonde glory. "Hey sweetheart," he smiles softly; definitely a totally platonic, friendly, kind pet name specially for you. The cute look that'd sneak onto your face whenever he used it had Leon's chest tightening uncontrollably.

"Hi Leon." You let him walk past you.

He'd been to your apartment a few times before, but never alone; usually either with Ashley or some of his friends that you'd met in the two months you knew each other so far. Your heart was beating a little too fast for comfort right now, the idea of the two of you being alone together at night sending your mind into a frenzy.

There's a comfortable amount of space between you and Leon on the sofa, though you wished you were curled up on his lap. If only you knew how badly he wanted that too. The movie plays, but your concentration is on anything but. His cologne invades your senses, the subtle sound of his breathing solidifying the fact that he was right next to you.

Feigning fatigue, you "casually" let your head fall upon his shoulder, causing Leon's breath to hitch. He sits still, not daring to move an inch, afraid you might move yourself. He felt the way your knee brushed against his, your arms that were just itching to wrap around him. At first, he thought he was just imagining things; wishful thinking playing tricks on him for the umpteenth time.

But then your arms did wrap around his waist, lazily draped over him. You made yourself more comfortable, body flush against his, leaning against him like he was your boyfriend.

Leon really didn't want to say anything. But he just couldn't help it. "Everything okay?" You were generally touchy, sure, but there seemed to be meaning behind your actions this time.

"Yeah." The way you say yeah makes it seem like he's crazy for insinuating otherwise. "Why do you ask?"

"I-I don't know," Leon feels like he's dug his own grave. He clears his throat, "You're being awfully...affectionate." And now he wants to shoot himself.

You laugh. You fucking laugh. Leon blinks twice, wondering if he's dreaming.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not necessarily." He coughs. "It's just a little, um," Leon frantically searches for the right words to use, "Unexpected, I guess."

"I can let go if you're uncomfortable." Please don't, he wants to say.

"Nah, it's fine. I don't mind." And on that note, you smile, returning your gaze to movie, even if Leon's face was a million times more interesting. Of course the scene playing on the screen is Jesse and Celine's first kiss. How cliché. You're both fighting the urge to follow by example.

Silence envelopes the room, the air thick with tension that never really existed between the two of you before. Getting all awkward over a kissing scene felt so awfully juvenile, but it wasn't your fault Leon had that effect on you, and vice-versa. Both of your eyes are locked on the TV, not daring to look at one another.

To your surprise, Leon says, very quietly, "You're really pretty."

His words rip through the stillness. You don't know how to respond, but also don't want to leave him hanging. So you pull back a bit, enough to get a better view of his perfect face, and smile, "What?"

"You heard me," he mumbles, baby blue eyes meeting yours. Seeing Leon all shy strikes something within you.

"I did. I just..." God, this was awkward.

"I know this might seem weird, but..." Leon sighs softly, biting the corner of his lip for a second as he searched for the best words to use. "I think you're a great girl. Sweet, too. And I really want to kiss you." He mentally chastised himself for sounding so cliché, so corny.

He quickly adds, "You don't have to say anything, by the way. I just...I needed to get that off my chest." As if you could go on normally after this.

You stare at him in disbelief, mulling over his words, wondering if he was just saying things. When you were inviting him over to watch a movie together, you didn't expect a heartfelt confession, but really it was naïve to think you wouldn't. Especially after holding onto him like that. Your reluctance to respond has Leon's expression fall flat.

So you don't say anything. You kiss him. And he doesn't waste any time kissing you back. It's soft, delicate. Testing the waters. His hands clasp onto your hips, slowly smoothing up and down your back. It doesn't take long for him to really get into it, though.

The outside world fades into nothing, the feeling of Leon's chapped lips on yours overpowering any other. "Are you sure about this?" He mumbles between kisses, unsure if you really wanted to kiss, or simply did it to please him. You mumble a quick shut up and tangle your fingers into his soft hair.

Your hips shift a bit, coaxing him into pulling you onto his lap, lips still connected together. You only get sloppier with your kisses, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose, just in case he might change his mind about all of this the moment you part.

"Easy baby," Leon whispers, pushing you back slightly; this definitely wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "I'm not going anywhere."

It's safe to say the movie didn't get finished. Good thing you both watched it before.

[mixtape-racha]

should i stay or should i go | hwang hyunjin

who knew the quiet girl in the back of the algebra classroom, and the campus's golden boy would have so much in common? // minors dni, 18+

words: 4.3k // warnings: camboy!hyunjin x camgirl!reader, dom!hyunjin, oral (f. recieving), tiny hint to orgasm control, protected piv, "sir" and "princess", recorded sex, illusions to aftercare, reader is kind of a brat and teases hyunjin at first, hinted multiple rounds, slight degradation but mostly praise

“g’night, guys. dream of me!” hyunjin grinned, biting his lip as he leaned forward to turn off his livestream camera.

he felt sticky, and messy, but god did it feel good. he worked quickly to find his wipes and clean the cum off of his torso before it dried, before pulling out his favorite lounge pants and a baggy shirt.

sure, cam work was often frowned upon, but why shouldn’t he get paid for allowing others to view his pleasure? why shouldn’t he indulge himself in the compliments of strangers on twitter who oh-so loyally reminded him how beautiful he was under every lewd or nude he posted?

in fact, he didn’t understand why people wouldn’t want that for themselves.

of course, it also helped that he was surrounded by many followers and mutuals who were even more attractive than him, making many online friends who enjoyed their sexuality just as much as he did.

speaking of which, he needed to reply to a dm from his favorite mutual. she was gorgeous in every sense of the word - and her personality even more so. they’d began talked after she praised him under one of his only cumshot videos on the app, and instantly bonded from there. it was her who had introduced him to the camming site she used, hyunjin having instantly made an account - at first, to watch his new friend’s streams, but eventually starting his own.

his most recent conversations with his friend - who used the online alias of “jae” - was about their many, many requests from their followers for a collab. either for a twitter post, or a stream, it seemed their fans weren’t too fussed. they entertained the idea, and were currently in the process of figuring out if it was actually a good idea for them.

he was more than keen - jae’s body was gorgeous, and he’d rubbed one out to her twitter posts more than once. and - although he’d never admit it - he was a frequent viewer of her streams. that was where jae and himself differed though. she was too caught up in keeping her viewers occupied, that she hadn’t had a chance to watch one of his streams, and he never showed his face in twitter posts. 

so, in short, she didn’t know what he looked like. and neither did he truly know what she looked like, because she’s never done a face reveal on twitter or on a stream. he was only fortunate enough to have endless content of her gorgeous tits and pretty pussy to indulge in when he needed it.

a week later, and it was almost time. hyunjin and jae had agreed to meet at a bar near his campus, to see how their dynamic went. the agreement was that if either party felt uncomfortable, they would go no further and call the idea off. if they both felt comfortable, well…. jae would take hyunjin back to her apartment. they’d see how things went there, take a few photos for twitter and maybe if they both wanted.

then - all things successful - the following weekend, they’d do a joint stream, streaming live on both their accounts simultaneously for maximum viewers. that was his idea, a whim decision that he was surprised jae agreed too.

hyunjin dressed in his nicest semi-casual outfit before grabbing all the essentials in his bag - wallet, keys, charger, airpods, phone - before grabbing a bottle of lube and some condoms. just to be on the safe side, he told himself. he didn’t know why he was so nervous, this was literally part of his job. and he’d been talking to jae for months now. he had no reason to be scared.

that was until he got to the bar and had every reason to be scared. sitting in a booth in the corner, exactly where jae had told him she was sitting, was you. y/n l/n, the pretty girl in the back of his algebra class. there was no way, right? he cautiously approached the table, hands shaking slightly. oh god, was it really someone he knew on the other end of the phone that entire time?

“jae?” he asked, wincing at the way his voice broke, and his heart thumping when your head whipped up. you looked like a deer caught in headlights as you realized who was stood in front of you, and instantly you both worried that this was a bad idea.

“oh my god… hyunjin?” but what surprised him most was the way you broke into a grin. “thank god, i was so worried it was actually going to be a creepy old man catfishing me… come! come sit!”

were you always so bubbly? hyunjin had always known who you were, but this was so different to the quiet girl in the back of the algebra class, one airpod in at all times, glasses donning her face and never talking. he was almost whiplashed - he’d really misjudged you.

“so… i mean, know that we’ve known each other previously, do you still want to do this? if not, no harm done, and i promise i won’t tell anyone if you don’t tell anyone about me.” you asked softly, picking up on hyunjin’s hesitance - not that it was hard, he wore all his emotions on his sleeve.

“no! no, i still want to do this.. i guess i’m just.. surprised? i never expected jae to be someone i knew.”

you grinned at that, reaching out to grab his hand across the table comfortingly.

“i get it. i didn’t expect you to be someone i knew, either. but honestly, this works really well for me. you’re hot, and i feel more comfortable knowing you’re not a complete stranger.”

he flushed at your words, but hoped you couldn’t tell under the dim lights of the bar.

“do you wanna get a couple of drinks before we head back to mine? maybe some shots, just to ease the nerves? my teat.” you smiled, pulling out your purse as hyunjin shook his head rapidly.

“no, no i can pay for my drinks!”

“hyunjin,” you laughed. “its fine. got a big tip last night, nearly $600 dollars from a private stream. my treat.” you insisted, taking his drink order before wandering over to the bar.

he couldn't help the way he watched your ass as you walked, the tight skirt doing nothing to help his already raging boner. if he’d known you were so confident, he would’ve made a move on you sooner. in all honesty, hyunjin had always had an eye for you - you were so, so pretty. the whole nerdy thing you had going on really turned him on too - you seemed so innocent, and it played into his whole corruption fantasy. but knowing now that it wasn’t true - that you were secretly a freak? it was a whole new level of turned-on. if he could, he would’ve ravished you in the toilet cubicles of the bar, but he was more classy than that. maybe next time.

before he could realize the implications of his thoughts, you came back over, passing him his drink before sipping on yours as you took a seat.

“so i was thinking we could cover the basics here? safe words, hard limits, that sort of thing? it seemed too impersonal to do over messages, you know?”

god, he didn’t think he could get more attracted to you. he barely could keep track of your conversation, only spaced-in enough to cover the most important topics. his cock throbbed in his jeans when you leaned over the table towards him, tits squeezing together perfectly under your tiny shirt. the skirt you wore hugged your hips in a way that had hyunjin trying not to drool, and your thighs looked so, so biteable in contrast to the material adorning them.

he was so out of it, he couldn’t even trace the moment that you’d left the bar to go back to your apartment, not until you pushed him against the back of the door and asked him to kiss you with big doe eyes.

and how could he refuse? when you looked up at him like he was the only god you could ever submit to? when you begged so nicely? when your hands tightened on his shirt in anticipation?

he gripped your jaw, pulling your face up to meet his as he kissed you in a flurry of clashing teeth and spit. he wanted to be gentle, to be careful with you, but he couldn’t help himself. he needed you so bad, and it was like his body was acting on its own accord.

like when he flipped your positions, so you were the one pressed against the door. a moan left your lips and went tumbling into his at the way our back hit the door, and he felt himself throb at how pretty you sounded. he was quick to hoist one of your legs over his hip, pressing his body against your as much as he could.

as his tongue entered your mouth, battling yours for dominance which you inevitably surrendered to him, he grabbed a fistful of your ass, the feel of your skin making him groan against you.

he was quick to pull away from your mouth with a pop, smirking as you whined before attaching his plump lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin. you keened, back arching against the door and pushing your tits against him perfectly. he tapped your ass harshly, before lifting at your other leg, hinting for you to jump as he wrapped your legs around his waist, effectively trapping you against the door.

the display of strength had you clenching around nothing, hands tugging at his hair as you panted and whined into the darkness of your apartment.

“bedroom, hyun. take me to my bedroom.” you whimpered as he bit down on your jugular, rocking your hips against him. “last door on the right.”

he grunted in response, carrying you across the expanse of your apartment, kicking open your bedroom door when he reached it. he was fast to kick it shut behind him, dropping you onto the bed once close enough and looking down at you with eyes so blown-out with lust he looked feral.

you felt small under his gaze, embarrassment flushing across you in a way it hadn’t in a long time. cam work and your nsfw twitter had built a whole new confidence in you - you felt like femme fatale, someone who could have boys falling to their knees to worship the ground she walked on, only to have hyunjin blow it all away within moments. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d wanted someone this bad, and you were damned sure you were going to make him give you what you wanted.

your hand slipped down to your skirt, lifting the material as you slipped your panties to the side, looking up at him with doe eyes as your finger circled your clit. you were so wet it was unreal, and he could’ve sworn you were about to start dripping all over the bed below you.

“gonna fuck me now, hyunie? gonna make me feel good like you promised so many times on twitter? need you so bad, need you to fill me up.” your words drawled out slightly slurred, the visual of his cock jumping beneath his jeans making you involuntarily clench around nothing. but oh, it made something in your mind click, smirking as you enticed him even more with your teasing.

“why don’t we stream it, yeah? then everyone can see what a fucking slut you are for me?”

he growled in response, lunging forward to push your thighs apart as far as they could, his eyes fixed on your cunt, slick dripping out of your greedy hole.

“oh, i’m a slut, hmm? well then, we don’t we show your viewers how quickly you’re going to cream on my cock, yeah? make them watch as you beg me to cum inside of you, have my cum dripping out of you as a reminder of how bad you want me?”

you were so caught off guard at the change of demeanor that he showed, you didn’t even realize that he’d floated over to your computer, which had your streaming site booted up in the background in case of an impromptu stream - just like now, you supposed.

turning back to you, his face had relaxed and his eyes showed concern.

“are you sure about this, what about if they accidentally see your face?” your heart warmed at his worry, shaking your head in response.

“i don’t care. collab stream with you and face reveal? two birds with one stone, just need you to hurry up and fuck me.”

at your words, his face hardened again, and he smirked, typing in the title for the stream and turning it on. instantly, pings from your computer informed you that people were joining, and it had you more turned on - if that were even possible.

‘face reveal + a special guest: surprise lovelies xoxo ~ jaecums // callmehhj’

“gonna let me ravish you now, then? let sir turn you into a brainless cumdump on his cock?”

your eyes fluttered, threatening to roll to the back of your head as hyunjin approached you once more, biting your lip as you nodded, whining out a yes.

“come on, princess. you gotta use your words for me, yeah? how else will i know what my slutty girl wants?” he asked, faux sympathy dripping from his voice as he knelt on the end of the bed, long fingers circling your hole.

“please, sir, please, need you, need you to fuck me so bad, sir, please-!”

your words were cut off as he removed himself from the bed, kneeling on the floor and pulling you towards him by your thighs. your legs hung over his shoulders, ass perched on the edge of the bed as he kissed softly up your thighs.

“gotta let me hear those pretty moans as i eat you out first, though. gonna make you cum on my face before my cock even goes near you.”

you keened as he pushed his face against your core, nose swiping against your clit as he flattened his tongue against you.  “oh, fuck–!”

he hummed in appreciation, the vibrations making your hips buck against him as he messily made out with your clit, spit and arousal dripping down onto his chin. your hands laced their way through hyunjin’s long hair, grip tightening every time he decided to tease you by dipping his tongue into your hole.

his fingers were digging into your skin deliciously, and you were sure you’d have marks left behind to remind you that this wasn’t just a fever dream. your moans were bouncing off the walls, and even then you could hear the messy slurping of hyunjin gathering all of your arousal that he could into his mouth.

he was like a man starved between your legs, and it had your stomach tightening unbelievably fast. there was no way– you’d never come this fast, especially from oral. was hyunjin superhuman? you couldn’t believe that you were already feeling a coil tightening and a warm tingling spreading up through your body already.

your hands threaded further through his hair, hips bucking wildly as you tugged his face deeper into your core. “oh, shit– oh fuck, sir, m’gonna cum–!” you cried, toes curling as you tried to fend off your building release. “please! pleasepleaseplease-!” your words came out slurred, and hyunjin smirked to himself between your legs as he pulled away from your swollen clit with a pop.

he quickly replaced his lips with his fingers, rubbing delicate figure-eights on your bud while he looked up at you with faux doe eyes. “gonna cum, yeah? you gonna cum for me, baby?”

but it wasn’t enough for you as tears sprung behind your eyes, digging the heels of your feet into his shoulders. “please, sir-! please, let me cum for you, please!”

hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly before his face hardened once more and his fingers sped up on your clit. he began pressing kisses to your thighs, biting and sucking at the plush skin.

“go on, princess. cum for me. cum all over sir’s face, yeah?”

and as soon as the words left his mouth, he pushed his nose against your bud, tongue lapping at your hole and the coil in your stomach snapped. you keened, back arching as your juices flooded hyunjin’s mouth, him moaning against your core in appreciation.

he stayed nestled between your thighs until your legs started twitching in overstimulation and you began pushing his head away. but god, he’d never get over the way you tasted. it was official - he’d never be able to give any other girl oral because it would never be as perfect as the way your thighs wrapped around his head. he was a goner.

hauling himself onto his feet, hyunjin wrapped an arm around your back to pull you to meet him halfway in a sloppy kiss, the taste of your slick falling from his mouth to yours.  you moaned against his lips, hands falling to grip onto him any way you could before realizing he was still fully dressed. you sharply pulled away from the kiss, brows furrowed and lower lips falling out in a pout.

“take it off,” you grumbled, pulling at the material of his shirt, frown only deepening when he chuckled at you. but you could forgive him for that, you could forgive him for anything - especially when he looked that fucking good. planes of muscled, honey skin exposed to you, and you wanted nothing more than to pin him down and cover him in bites and bruises. however, you didn’t think he’d let you get away with that, so you let your hands fall to his belt, quickly undoing it in hopes he’d get the hint.

as he began removing the offending items, you slipped your skirt and top off, leaving you in just a lacy bra, to which hyunjin grinned. “so desperate for me, huh? wasn’t enough that i made you cum once, was it? my greedy girl.”

“need you inside me, please,” you whimpered, reaching out to pull him towards you. “need you to fuck me, sir, come on.”

he leaned down to plant a kiss on your head, before stepping away to retrieve a condom from his wallet. it was in that moment of silence that you could truly appreciate how many pings were coming from your computer, an indication of how much people were enjoying the stream. you were kind of excited to see how many tips you got, and were curious to see if hyunjin would easily accept half of whatever you made - he seemed like the type of guy to refuse, but you could be just as stubborn.

when he came back, he had put the condom on his length, and you nearly drooled seeing it up close. his dick was…. well, gorgeous. there was no other way to put it, and you knew damn well that you were going to be screaming with pleasure faster than you ever had.

“gonna fuck you so full of me, yeah? let everyone see what a dirty bitch you really are.”

he clambered on top of you, kneeling with one hand next to your hip and the other on his length to guide it against your hole. he’d barely put the tip in before you moaned, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at how fucked out you were.

“calm down, love. let me at least get inside you before you go all brainless.”

but you couldn’t help the way you writhed and keened as he pushed ever-so-slowly further into you, not stopping until he was sheathed inside you, his public bone resting against your plush thighs.

he had his lower lip tucked between his teeth to stop himself from drowning out your pretty whimpers, but also to ground himself - you felt so warm and tight, it took everything in him not to nut straight away. he couldn’t. you deserved to squirt all over him before he even considered finishing.

you reached for his arm, fingers coming to grip the muscle as he began to shallowly thrust, the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls making your head fall back as you let out a contented sigh. you didn’t think you’d ever felt so full in your life, and it was heavenly. every vein on his cock, every twitch, the way his tip stretched you out so perfectly for the rest of him. oh yeah, you could die happy now.

your legs wrapped around his waist, locking him against you as he rocked his hips, not wanting to overwhelm you and pound into you how he wanted. his eyes bored into your skin, making you blush at the way he held such affection for you in his pretty eyes. it was freeing, and overwhelming, and heartwarming all at once.

once you’d been reasonably adjusted to his size, he pulled his hips back as far as your grip would allow him, leaving just the tip inside, before thrusting forward against such force it sent your body back up the bed at least an inch. you cried out, clenching on him as drool began pooling at your lips from your want— no, your need for him to ruin you.

“please, sir,” you slurred, fingers gripping at his skin as tight as the heat in your body would let you. “fuck me properly, please. wanna make a mess, wanna make you cum.”

he then growled at your words, hips speeding up almost instantly. your body rocked in its spot on the bed, tits bouncing with the pure force he was driving into you at.

the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and if you strained your ears you could hear the squelching noise your pussy made as your arousal dripped out, coating the sheets beneath you.

you knew you’d get a noise complaint from your neighbor if you kept squealing the way you were, but you couldn’t help it. especially not when hyunjin bit down on your neck, tongue rubbing over the sensitive skin, making you let out an almost animalistic howl.

it felt like he was hitting the deepest parts of you, and you couldn’t get enough of it. the way his hair swayed, the way sweat was dripping down his forehead, the way he looked at you like he wanted nothing more than to tie you down and use you as his own personal sex toy. even the way he moaned when you clenched around him, god you were obsessed.

you felt a fire building in your abdomen as he leant back on his knees, eyes trained on watching his cock glide in and out of you, and you held your legs up to your chest to give him a better view. at that, he threw his head back and let out a heavenly groan, causing you to clench around him once again.

you snaked a hand down to your clit, rubbing it furiously as the leg it was holding fell into place naturally on hyunjin’s shoulder. you were so aching close, so close you could feel your walls begging for it, but you just needed a final push.

hooking your foot around his neck, you pushed hyunjin towards you, instantly grabbing his lips with your own. it was messy, and disgusting, but you loved it. all drool, and teeth clashing, tongues wrapped around each other like that's how they’d always been.

the new angle allowed hyunjin to reach ever deeper - hitting the deepest parts of you that you didn’t even know where possible. he reached a hand up to tweak at your nipple, and you whined into his mouth as it sent you hurling into an orgasm, back arching to push your chests together.

the way you clamped down on him sent him head-first into his own release, his hips stuttering as you felt each throb of his cock as he filled the condom. you were both breathing heavily, almost panting as he pulled away from this kiss, thrusting shallowly a few more times to ride you both through your release.

your chest was heaving, and you felt like you’d ascended. all floaty and gooey, head sinking into the pillow beneath it as your eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss. hyunjin peppered a few soft kisses across your cheeks as he carefully pulled out, rubbing your hips comfortingly when you winced.

“good?” he asked quietly, so quiet that your computer wouldn’t pick it up, and you nodded without opening your eyes.

“so good.”

you felt him crawl backwards and leave the bed, opening your bleary eyes to follow his figure around the room. you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet, though. you thought all your bones had disappeared and you’d sink straight back into the bed if you tried.

once he’d come back to the bed from ending the stream and tossing the used condom in the bin, he scooped you into his arms and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

“you’re staying tonight, right?” you asked softly, nuzzling your head against him. “don’t think i can let you go after that.” exhaustion flooded your voice and he chuckled.

“course i am, silly. but we gotta get you showered, okay? then i can order in some food and we can watch a movie or something, yeah?”

you nodded softly.

“join me in the shower?”

“oh, i don’t think that’s a good idea, princess. you’re shattered.”

“please, jinnie,” you pleaded, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “need you to cum down my throat before anything else, and sharing a shower means saving water, after all.”

he laughed at your enthusiasm, and nodded, agreeing.

“okay. okay, whatever you want. but then - food and sleep, okay?” he grinned, scooping you up in his arms to carry you to the bathroom.

taglist: join taglists here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @taeriffic @mits-vi @chanssmiles @5kayzee @queen-klarissa @torixx80 @fawnpeaks @bangtanmix73 @savluvsmingi @boi-bi-ahaha @skz-streamer @demetrisscarf @4evrglow @manj1ro @linocvpid @alextheweeb7 @chans-american-slave @unsweetenedpeatea @carpioassists @bangtancultsposts @reiheis @happilydeepestwonderland @leemidnightmoon @saintminaa @@hyunjinswifeee @watariisbestboy@hwangrimi @cherry-edibles @ivyisnotokay @yevene @puckmaidens

[riddlerosehearts]

ever since vil's luxe couture groovy was first revealed i have not been able to stop thinking about how much i love him and the way his relationship with gender is written and treated by the narrative. the way that he's a gnc man who refuses to be seen without makeup on, who uses an extremely feminine personal pronoun in japanese ("atashi") and it isn't treated like an unusual thing or a joke. the way he admires the fairest queen, wants to be beautiful like she was and has such an immense amount of pride and confidence in his physical beauty. and then literally not one person in the whole story calls vil's masculinity into question except for epel, who gets told by vil that his views on gender roles and of men doing "feminine" things are backwards and archaic, and ends up having a whole arc where he learns that he was wrong and comes to see his own naturally cute and feminine appearance as a strength!

and then the fact that the narrative doesn't just treat vil normally as a gnc man but also actively celebrates him by having him be such a massive, world-famous celebrity who's so respected and loved?? he's a movie star, he's a model with a record number of runway appearances, he's an influencer who has 5 million magicam followers, if he advertises a product it flies off the shelves. in his dorm uniform vignette an international fashion magazine--which is specifically known for being the first to feature vil on its cover--is coming to interview the pomefiore students for an article on their pursuit of beauty, and the interviewer tells vil that he looks like the fairest queen reborn! and that's how he wants to be seen and is an entirely positive thing!! and with vil being so famous throughout twisted wonderland there will be kids and teens, most certainly including gnc and trans kids, who will look up to him and hear him publicly say things like how there's no such thing as something being just "for girls" or "for boys" and that men shouldn't be ashamed of doing feminine dance moves or wearing certain kinds of clothing. kids who will feel empowered because the vil schoenheit said they could be both beautiful and strong.

idk, it's just, in a lot of other stories i'd expect vil to struggle more because of the way he presents himself and to be treated in a more comedic way because of it. but instead he's a very important and well-developed character who's incredibly successful and confident, who isn't the slightest bit a joke or comic relief character and in fact is one of the most responsible and mature in the whole cast, whose struggles are mostly unrelated to his gender presentation but who gets to defend his right to be happy just the way he is when someone does look down on him for it, and who at least in my opinion gets some of the prettiest cards in the whole game. he is such a cool and unique character and i love him so much and find this aspect of how he's written to be so empowering and refreshing.