#maybe. just maybe. things are actually okay

[sweetcalebb]

Watching Caleb ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 1.3k

a/n: this was another request!! yk who you are anon <3 hope this was okay!

content: voyeuristic reader, exhibitionist caleb, solo masturbation, slight dirty talk, praise kink (caleb), you guys match each other's freaks

––

You feel it the moment you shift closer. He's hard. Really hard. Right against your thigh. You freeze, your heart leaping in your throat as you pull away.

"Caleb, I'm sorry—"

"Hey, hey." His hand darts out to wrap around your waist to keep you from going too far, his voice strained. "Don't worry about it. I can... handle it later."

Guilt prickles your skin.

"I know," you start, the words muffled as Caleb kisses you again. "I wish I weren't so nervous.. I mean, I want to do things with you but I—I just—"

You're ranting now. You can feel him smiling against your lips, like your rushed words are somehow endearing.

But it's all true. For the past few months, all you guys have done is hold hands, kiss, cuddle a little, maybe even tease the idea of doing more, but never actually following through.

And Caleb never pushed you. Never. If anything, he was always the one who pulled back when he felt you tensing.

"Pips, I promise it's fine."

Then he's kissing you again, slow, like maybe his lips will convince you.

But you shift again, and you feel him again; he must be painfully hard. And you know Caleb. He'll endure this for hours if it means your comfort.

"Does it hurt..?"

Caleb lets out a breathless laugh against your lips. "No. I'll be fine," he repeats.

You swallow hard, your heart racing. "Maybe it wouldn't be so scary if... if I got to watch first."

Caleb blinks, gently pulling back to look at you. "Watch?"

You nod, biting your lip. "Only if you wanted to."

His breath hitches. Then slowly, he starts again, "You.. want to watch me—" He pauses, clearing his throat like saying it out loud in front of you is more embarrassing than actually doing it. "Jerk off?"

Your cheeks flush a dark red, nodding again. But when he's silent, you quickly blurt out, "But you don't have to—! I'm sorry. That was weird—"

Caleb shakes his head. "No, no. I just... wasn't expecting that is all." He hesitates for half a breath, searching your eyes—then he slips his underneath the waistband of his sweats and starts tugging them down.

"I can show you if that's what you really want."

He's shaking, his breath a little uneven. Whether it's from need or nerves, you can't tell. Maybe it's both.

"I do."

"Are you sure?"

You nod, pulling back to watch him.

At that, he tugs his sweats the way of the rest down and starts palming himself through his boxer. He's slow. Teasing. Not deliberately, he just can't help it. He's been like this for hours. He wants to make sure he wrings out every drop of his release.

He lets out a small breath when he thumbs the underside of his cock.

Your breath quickens, heat pooling in your stomach as you watch him.

There's a damp patch on his boxers when he finally tugs them down to free his aching cock. He's been leaking the minute he started kissing you. But again, your comfort always came before anything else.

Carefully—almost like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind—he wraps his hand around himself.

He meets your gaze, his dick twitching at the way you just... stare. You look at him as if he's something sacred and pure. Not as what he is—filthy and so desperate for you it hurts.

"You..hahh.. you're really gonna watch me?"

Your eyes dart up to his face. "Yes.. I really.. wanna see how you do it."

Caleb groans, his grip on his cock tightening. "Yeah, okay."

He strokes himself faster. Just slightly. Enough to feel a familiar heat creep up his spine. "Oh, fff—" He bites his lip, eyeing his glistening cock. "I'm.. I'm so sensitive right now."

You blink, then quietly ask, "Is it because of me?"

Caleb grunts, his jaw tight with the effort of holding back. "Yeah. Because of you."

This type of stuff has always scared you. The male body part always has. But you find an odd sense of comfort in Caleb.

He just looks so good—every part of him.

"T-talk to me.. Fuck.. Please?"

Your mouth suddenly feels dry.

"I don't—I don't know what to say. You just..." You squeeze your thighs together, heat rushing between your legs when he looks at you like that. So expectantly. So devoted.

"You look so good like this." Your eyes dart down to his weeping head and you lick your lips. "So pretty."

Caleb groans, pre cum leaking out and coating his fingers. "Y-yeah? You think I'm pretty?"

You nod.

"Say it. One more time."

You feel a lump in your throat as you slowly breathe out, "You're so pretty."

Another strangled sound slips past his lips as he rocks his hips into his touch.

It's unfair, how he can look so good doing such filthy things. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks every time he can't handle looking at you, sweat clings to his brow, and his stomach curves inward whenever he strokes himself just right.

"What are you thinking right now?"

Caleb lets out a breathless chuckle, the sound caught between a moan and a groan. "Nng'no. No, I can't tell you that, Pips."

Oh, God.

“Please tell me,” you whisper, your voice smaller but firmer.

Caleb groans, jaw clenching. “Pips… fuck… I shouldn’t.”

“I want to know,” you breathe, leaning closer, your pulse hammering.

His hand stutters around his cock; he can’t stop.

“I’m thinking about…" his eyes flick over yours like he's debating whether he's really about to say it. Then— "I'm thinking about how pretty you’d look on your knees for me. Mouth open… fuck… begging to taste.”

His voice breaks, shame and desire blending together. “God, it’s so fucked— I shouldn’t—”

But your thighs clench, heat pulsing so hot it hurts. "No. Please tell me more."

His hand stutters over his cock, lips parting on a broken pant. "I—I might come too fast." Even as he says it, he doesn't slow down. He keeps working himself over at the same pace like he can't help it.

Because he can't. Not when you're staring at him like that and leaning closer like you need to memorize every debauched second of this.

"I want to know what else you're thinking."

"Pipsqueak..."

"Please."

Caleb gives in with a groan. "I'm thinking about.. how I wouldn't last a second in you," he admits, his hips jerking into his hand. "One thrust and I'd—hah... fuck—I'm gonna—"

He tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut. He can't even warn you before he's cumming.

He gasps, his muscles growing taut as he gently works himself through his orgasm.

He's a mess. His chest is heaving, his breaths are leaving him in broken little pants, and his shirt is stained in his cum.

Caleb breathes hard, looking at you through hazy eyes.

"Holy crap.. I didn't—I didn't expect that to feel so good."

You can only stare. He's still so beautiful. Even after he's been wrecked.

You don't know what possesses you to do this next. But wordlessly, you grab his hand, bring it up to your lips, and lick off his arousal.

Caleb shudders, his dick giving a valiant twitch as your tongue swipes across his fingers.

"Sh—shit. Pips, wait, it's probably salty."

When you pull back, Caleb's brows are furrowed with concern. But you just lick your lips and give him a sheepish smile.

"It tastes good."

Another twitch.

Caleb groans. "Don't say stuff like that. You're gonna make me hard again."

A quiet laugh bubbles out your chest. "Maybe I can watch again..?"

Caleb huffs, bringing his (not cum slick) hand around the nape of your neck and pulling you into a soft kiss. "Fine. But give me a minute, yeah?"

You nod, smiling against his lips. "Or maybe I can actually try..?"

"No, no, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, Pipsqueak."

"I want to."

"..Really?"

"Mhm.."

Caleb huffs, squeezing his eyes shut. "Okay, give me a second then."

You giggle, kissing him back.

––

WORKING AS FAST AS I CANN‼️

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[sc3ptre]

A healing touch

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: Clark Kent fics will be posted Thursday nights/Friday mornings depending on where you live so there will be another fic this week but I really wanted to post this extra sweet lil thing bc I’m having so much fun writing these.

Warning: SMUT +18 (with plot) This is descriptive! Okay? Read at your own risk and keep both hands on the damn phone!!! | safe sex, p-in-v, oral m! receiving and mutual masturbation, mild D/S dynamics, physical restriction kink? and power play, mild mentions of injury and blood (non graphic), nipple play, c*m play?, big dick syndrome (size kink) and use of superhuman abilities during intercourse.

Disclaimer: This fic has no spoilers for the movie! But if you're still wary, feel free to skip this for now and come back later!

Word count: 4.7k (i kept telling myself i would stop soon and then didn't)

The open window barely rustled the curtains. From this high up, the city sounded like a distant ocean, with its sirens, horns, and ultimately the murmuring echo of a city that had just barely survived another disaster.

You were already standing near the floor to ceiling windows, watching the sky like you’d been doing for the last hour. The news played footage on a loop until it cut to analysts and headlines, yet none of it was useful making you turn the sound off after the third segment. You didn’t need the voiceover, you’d seen enough to know how bad it was.

You heard it then. It wasn’t a crash or a thud, just a shift in the air pressure and a flicker in the shadows outside. You turned just in time to see him glide through the open window.

He didn’t land so much as fold, his cape catching on the breeze and dragging softly behind him before falling like a second shadow. Clark stumbled with a groan, catching himself on the wall while his other hand gripped his side.

Your heart dropped when you took in his state, his suit torn across his shoulder and chest, the fabric also blackened from being dragged around by a creature fifty times his size and stained with a mix of dried and fresh blood you hoped wasn’t his.

You didn’t speak, not right away but as always, he felt the need to reassure you. Maybe it was your face, or the sound of your heart shattering at the mere sight of him.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he huffed, walking a few unsteady steps to the edge of the living room and sinking down onto the floor beside the low couch, pressing his back to it like he couldn’t trust himself to stay upright without something behind him. Only then did he actually meet your eyes, flashing you the tiniest of smiles. “It’s not that bad.”

Your mouth parted slightly as you looked at him closer, taking tentative steps toward him. There was exhaustion in his eyes, and it wasn’t the kind that sleep could fix. His jaw was tight and his knuckles were bloody and scraped raw. His perfect hair was tousled and one eye slightly swollen and still, he smiled.

You opened your mouth further to ask, but he shook his head slowly, warning you that telling you exactly what happened wouldn’t make it any better. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, voice rough.

You nodded silently, trying to ignore how much your heart ached as you moved quietly to the bag you had brought, unzipping it and pulling out several different bottles, gauze, needle and thread. It looked like you had robbed a pharmacy on the way to his place.

You returned and kneeled beside him, his eyes following every motion. Clark didn’t stop you or object just focused on breathing slowly through his nose, like each inhale took more effort than the last.

When your fingers grazed his skin, just near the edge of a gash along his ribs, he flinched. Not from pain, but from something else…surprise, maybe, and a tenderness he didn’t expect.

You soaked a cotton pad with antiseptic and spoke before you could really think about the words. “This might sting.”

He let out a faint grunt, more breath than sound, but didn't respond.

You worked carefully, wiping away ash and blood. The suit was partially peeled back, exposing more of him than you were used to, but either way, his skin wasn’t flawless tonight. It was streaked with bruises that didn't belong on him—purple, green, and already yellowing around the edges. You couldn’t imagine the force it took to actually hurt him.

You soon realized he was watching you as you worked—your face, not your hands—with that intense, unblinking stare of his.

“What?” you asked, glancing up.

“Your heart’s racing.”

You paused, fingers stilling over the line of a cut and let out a quiet, long breath, something you always did around him to regulate your system. It never worked. “And you’re still bleeding, since we’re…pointing out the obvious,” you said softly.

His lips twitched to just the ghost of a smile, too painful to reach his eyes. “I’ll heal. The sun–”

“Would you rather bleed out until sunrise, Kansas?” you cut in, gentle but firm.

He didn’t argue further. Clark had a feeling you often forgot who he was and what he could do, and he didn’t mind it one bit, especially when you got snarky this close.

You continued swabbing and bandaging with care, letting the heavy silence stretch between you. It was far from uncomfortable since you’d lived in it before. It was where your connection always seemed to grow, in those quiet corners and not with loud confessions.

Once the wound across his lower side was as clean as it would get, you threaded the needle and pressed it to the edge of his skin. You pushed it in with steady hands and watched as it bent before your eyes.

You sighed, lifting it up towards the dim light of the living room. “I always forget about… that.”

The look on your face earned you a small exhale through his nose. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but close.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You protested.

He couldn’t help the grin now spreading across his face. “Couldn’t bring myself to. You look the sweetest when you’re focused.”

You sighed, sitting defeatedly on the balls of your feet, a sight he couldn’t bear seeing.

“You’ve done more than anyone has…thank you. The sun will take care of the rest,” he assured quietly, wincing as he lifted his hand to your face, caressing it with dizzying softness.

You looked at him again and this time, he didn't look away. His gaze flickered over your face like he was tracing something he already knew but still didn’t understand—There was a pull between you in that moment, an ache that had had you circling each other for months now, too close and then too far, never quite on the same page, yet always in orbit, always looking.

His fingers went to your chin, thumb tracing your lower lip as the both of you surrendered and leaned toward the other, not stopping until your lips touched tentatively for a stretched second before Clark pulled back just enough to give you time to retreat, but you pushed forward, pressing your lips against his in a loving, long awaited kiss.

It was slow and gentle, careful in a way that made it burn even deeper. It was obvious that both of you were trying to learn where the other’s limits were but that line got pushed further back the more he welcomed you into his life. The kiss deepened, and your tongues danced a heated tango influencing you to straddle his hips. He sucked in a breathy wince, his hands moving to rest on both sides of your face, tilting your head while holding you close.

You accommodated yourself on his lap, letting your full weight fall on him and despite yourself, letting out a quiet moan. 

His lips migrated from your mouth to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, as his hand guided your face to enable his actions. You closed your eyes, letting your shaky fingers trace the emblem of his suit.

Clark’s full lips latched onto your neck then, breathing out against your pulse point before kissing higher, toward your earlobe. You moaned quietly, keeping your body from moving too much over him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you breathed.

Clark’s hands went to both sides of your hips, grabbing you and pressing you down against his hardness, then smiling into your neck when you gasped quietly. “You won’t.”

Your hands steadied on his body as you began moving slowly, seeking relief while allowing his mouth to explore you freely, in the same manner your hands were—both of you acting like this was a common occurrence, with the familiar way his lips wrapped around yours, taking their time in learning what you liked and what made your breathing hitch. 

You kissed in tandem, loving on each other like you were made to do.

“I want you,” you breathed when you pulled apart. “I’ll understand if this isn’t the night for it.”

He shook his head slowly, dismissing your last comment as he gathered your hair in one hand, keeping it off your face so he could see all of you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

At his nod, you carefully got off his lap and helped him stand the best you could, each groan from his aching body stabbing your heart with a thousand tiny needles.

Once on his feet, he raised a finger to you, signaling for you to wait a second before walking awkwardly—while cursing at the uncomfortable tent in his pants—toward the closest cabinet.

You stood there watching in a daze, your fingers brushing your tingling lips as they stretched into a soft smile, while your pulse rabbitted in your neck. Until the rattle of a chain cut through the quiet, your gaze snapping to him, eyes wide. It was thick and heavy, the kind strong enough to pull a car.

“Clark…what the hell is that?”

His face didn’t change much as he held it up, looking at it like his thought process was the most obvious answer, but his voice was calm. “It’s for me.”

“So we’re flying straight past the handcuffs, huh? D–do I need a safeword or a damn prayer?...Jeez, Clark, warn a girl before you bring out the industrial sized kinks.” you said, cracking a grin.

He laughed with little to no humor. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up…This is serious, okay?” he said. “If I lose control and… I hurt you–”

“You won’t,” you interrupted.

“You don’t know that,” he pointed out.

You stepped close to him again, pressing a hand to his chest, warm beneath your palm. His heart was beating slower than yours, strong, but still at an unusually fast pace.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered.

His jaw flexed. “I would never be able to forgive myself if–”

You shook your head. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me because you won’t let it. I’ve seen you at your worst, Clark,” you said. “And I’m still here. That should tell you something.”

You were still touching him, waiting for an answer and he was still looking at you like he didn’t know how this was real. He surrendered then, letting the chain fall to the floor with a loud thud.

“Should I even ask why you have that?” you asked quietly.

“Work-life balance clearly isn't my strong suit." he murmured, leaning in to let his lips brush yours once again, like he wasn’t sure he deserved it at all.

Your hand brushed his jaw, thumb resting just below the cut at the corner of his mouth. Clark leaned right into it, eyes closing briefly while anchoring himself in that one quiet point of contact.

He kissed you back with the kind of care that felt earned, tempered by pain, longing and too much time spent pretending not to feel what he clearly did. 

His huge arms snaked around your body, holding you close to his as your feet lost contact with the ground. The air shifted gently around you both with the quietest sound of lift, like a breath held within the walls. He flew you across the room like it was second nature, like carrying you in his arms was the only thing keeping him upright. His body was still heavy with bruises and cuts, but in the air, he was light, weightless.

His bedroom was quiet when you landed, soft light filtering in through the windows, stars visible beyond the glass. He didn’t let you go right away, no, he just stood there, holding you close to his chest and kissing you like letting you go after setting you down might break the spell.

Your lips parted as his hand brushed the neckline of his ruined suit, the torn, ash-smudged fabric stretched beautifully across his chest. He winced, moving his shoulder again to detach his cape and letting it fall to his feet.

You helped him peel his clothes off slowly and as gently as you could, letting your hands graze over his warm skin unabashedly while his hands trembled under your touch, especially while you helped him undress from the waist down, taking over your steady ones as if your touch could make this end far too soon.

You had daydreamed about how big he would be, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw—thick, heavy, quite literally struggling to hold its own weight up and covered in angry veins that led to a swollen, and already leaking tip. Your mouth watered the more you looked at it.

His hands grabbed at the fabric of your shirt mid-daze, steadier now as he undressed you, taking his time to memorize every dip of skin and muscle that made you who you were, weakening him beyond the damage kryptonite could do. 

He carefully hooked his fingers under the straps of your bra and pulled them off your shoulders, letting them dangle there while he reached behind to unhook it, sliding it off your arms and letting it clutter the space between you on the floor. 

The air current flowing through the room made you suck in a breath, yet it wasn’t what made goosebumps spread all over. It was his scrutiny, just how closely he was looking at you. Your nipples hardened under his unrelenting gaze, pupils dilating as his cock grazed your stomach, spreading a bead of precum under your belly button.

Clark lowered himself to the edge of the bed with a groan, his hands tracing the outside of your thighs up until his fingers hooked under your panties, pulling it down and watching a string of slick stretch and shine in the moonlight. His cock throbbed against his thigh from the sight, and the groan that escaped him could’ve been enough to undo you too—He let his forehead fall to your stomach with a sigh, his hands bringing you close as you could be.

“…This isn’t exactly how I imagined it being.”

You tensed at his words while he flushed, pulling back to look up at you, brow furrowing like he didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Not—not like I’ve imagined it a lot,” he added quickly, stumbling. “Because I haven’t. I mean, not a lot. Just... moderately. I thought maybe when this happened, if it ever happened, you know… I’d be whole. Not like this, bruised and broken and... It should’ve been different.”

You reached to brush a piece of hair back from his face, making sure he looked right at you.

“Clark.” The name was quiet but firm. “You’re always taking care of everyone… let me take care of you.”

You whispered, pushing him just enough for him to take the hint and lay down in bed, ribs rising and falling unevenly. He groaned quietly under his breath as he leaned back, head hitting the pillows just as you kneeled on the other side of him, leaning down to press soft kisses to his marked and bruised skin, careful not to press into any of the deeper cuts. You traced a path from his sternum down and spoke between kisses.

“Can you do that for me?” you whispered, glad to see him visibly sink deeper into the mattress.

“…Are you sure the chains aren’t needed?”

You smiled faintly, not in mockery whatsoever. “Let’s not pretend they’d hold you back.”

He studied you for a long, still second, holding eye contact as you neared his heavy cock. Something changed behind his eyes then, the tension melted, just enough for him to give you the tiniest of nods.

Your fingers wrapped around the base, tongue flicking out to lap at its length from the very bottom to the sensitive tip. You felt him shiver, letting out a sigh as his hand went to your side, eyes watchful while you teased the tip’s slit with your tongue, tasting the saltiness of him before taking him fully into your mouth, tongue flat, allowing it to create its own path down your throat.

“Golly, sweet mercy…” he breathed as he watched you.

You took him in until his head blocked the very back of your throat, with more length to take and not enough space to do so. You got to work then, for your own pleasure more than his, from the way your eyes were rolling back. You used your hands to take care of the remaining length as you bobbed your head slowly with hollowed cheeks, massaging the base with just enough pressure to keep him on the edge. 

His moans slowly grew louder and less timid, as did his hands, with fingertips that caressed your wet folds from behind while you worked him. 

From the way he lifted his fingers and looked at them glistening, it was clear he didn’t believe all of that was for him, yet you moaned, pushing your ass back against nothing to incite him for more. He complied by replacing his fingers there, twisting his head in an awkward angle to watch himself dip them in slowly, eyes flickering between that image and your face as he pushed both digits deeper and deeper, your body spreading to grant him access.

He drove them in as far as they could go, then pulled them out slowly, watching your reaction whilst repeating the movement, his body trembling with pride once you moaned around his cock, one hand grabbing at his thigh for support.

His pace quickened accordingly, letting the sounds from the finger-fucking mix with the ones from your sweet mouth. Clark matched the rhythm at which you worked, loving how you backed your body to meet his hand shamelessly, until the pleasure from his fingers clouded your resolve—long forgetting the fact his cock blocked the path out for your moans and whimpers while you let him fuck you senseless.

It was a beautiful sight to him, the way your back arched and your pebbled nipples brushed against his skin while you hesitated between giving him pleasure and surrendering to your own. His fingers, covered in slick, moved in and out of you with such ease he envied them, shamelessly licking his lips every time he was strong enough to tear his eyes off your face.

You pulled his cock out of your mouth with a whimper that almost made him come, so desperate and raw, just like the view from where he laid envying a string of spit linking your plumped lips to his gleaming cock.

“Ugnh!” you whimpered, closing your eyes and letting your forehead fall to his lower abdomen, a hand still absentmindedly pumping him while your body rocked to meet his fingers. You turned your head to find his eyes on you, and the mere sight caused your own to roll with pleasure, granting him a nod.

“F–feels so good,” you said breathlessly, knees spreading further almost like you wanted to rub your clit against his dark blue sheets.

“You like that?” he asked, with a boyish grin that almost didn’t belong.

You nodded rapidly, sucking in a breath. “Mmmmyes…yes…fucking love it.”

You felt your inner thighs getting wetter and that knot tightening gradually in your lower abdomen, just as your body arched into his touch and tensed, your eyes shutting forcefully as you came with a hybrid between a moan and a groan. 

Your walls fluttered around Clark’s digits as he maintained the same pace through your climax, only pulling them out when you inhaled—like you’d been underwater the whole time.

His hands massaged your skin to soothe you, easing you back down to earth, while working up the courage to tell you that you could slow down, except your lips were already reaching for his. 

Succumbing to his own needs, he pulled your body down against him—damned be the pain—and hugged you close while kissing you senseless. His hands grabbed at your hair and everywhere he could reach as you stretched across his bed, legs now limp.

“Bedside table,” he murmured mid-kisses, and immediately your hand went to it, pulling out a brand-new box of condoms that you smashed against the edge of the wood to pop it open and haphazardly pulled one out. 

You straddled his lap, only stopping the messy kissing to carefully roll on the condom, the latex stretching around his girth and marking every single vein on it. Wasting no time, you lifted your body up and lined him to your entrance, tip pushing past your folds and threatening to slip-in in one swift thrust from how wet every surface was.

You watched as his chest rose and fell, holding eye contact while slowly sinking down on his thick cock, walls accommodating his girth beyond capacity and already twitching as if his size alone was enough to make you climax. You eased down inch by inch, thighs trembling as you took him to the hilt, savoring the delicious curve of him already caressing your g-spot while the base promised exciting friction to your clit. 

Clark gasped a low, broken sound at the pressure your body subjected his to. His hands clutched your hips, guiding your descent, while his eyes lit up at the slight bulge in your stomach.

“Take it easy on me, will you?” he groaned, eyes roaming your body reverently as you lifted yourself barely an inch before dropping back down on him. You moaned, your head already falling back in pleasure before you repeated the same movement a few times. As sick as anyone might’ve thought it was, Clark couldn’t help but look deeper, using his x-ray vision to see his tip pressed flush against your cervix.

“You hear me? I said “take it easy”.”

You grinned. “Worrying about hypotheticals, Clark?”

“There’s nothing hypothetical about it, trust me.” His palms smoothed over your thighs and up your waist before cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened beneath his touch.

Your eyes narrowed briefly before catching onto the way he was staring at your stomach. “I feel as though my anatomical privacy is being invaded.”

His eyes snapped up to your face, slightly wide. “What? No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... well, I did–”

“Joke, Clark. It was a joke,” you chuckled, giving a tentative roll of your hips to savor the stretch of him inside you, feeling fuller than you ever thought possible. “Fuck, you’re big,” you breathed, more to yourself than to him, then leaned forward, ghosting your lips over his as you picked up a rhythm that his hands on your hips eagerly assisted.

"Attagirl," he murmured, voice thick from a side of him you didn’t know had always belonged to you, thumbs brushing over your hips as you moved.

“Like this?” you asked, voice fading into a moan, your breath catching every time he bottomed out.

“Mhm,” he nodded, sucking in a sharp breath. “Exactly like this, beautiful.”

No more words were needed and you both knew it. Language dissolved into moans and the sharp rhythm of skin slapping against skin.

He was big, and every thrust brought that aching kind of pleasure that made your toes curl and your core clench. You arched your back, bracing your hands on his chest and rode him with growing confidence, lifting then dropping, slick and hot and impossibly connected. Your entrance stretched for him, his unforgiving thrusts scraping your walls clean of every drop of slick, only to serve as lubrication for the next. Wetness clung to your bodies, forming clear, glistening strings between you as you fucked.

Clark’s aching body was long forgotten as his sheets took the worst of it, blood and precum baptizing the bed on both ends of the human experience. Your clit pulsed from the friction, every motion sparking fire through your nerves while he groaned beneath you, wounded but desperate, watching every twitch of your hips like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He moaned proudly into your mouth, hands trembling as they kneaded your flesh, squeezing your tender breasts with care.

He knew then that he wouldn’t wait for your moans to grow louder or your pace to grow messier. His hand hovered between your legs, sliding his thumb over your swollen clit and circling in slow, precise motions that made you gasp and clench around him. His touch was reverent, worshipful and skilled, building you up until your thighs quaked with the effort of holding back.

“There you go,” you heard him murmur softly, just before your climax shattered through you. 

You came with a cry, shuddering around him as he whispered more praise that pushed you to keep going. You collapsed forward for a breath, forehead resting on his shoulder, while allowing your hips to still roll as you rode the aftershocks.

Clark stroked your back and kissed your temple, his voice ragged but still so gentle, splitting his focus between your bliss and holding himself back. “I want to make you feel good again.”

You surged up for another kiss, grinding down harder now, chasing your next peak while he looked at you like he could do this ten more times without pause. One hand gripped your hip, firmly, while the other slid up to cradle your breast again, rolling your nipple between two fingers until you were a whimpering mess.

Despite the pain, he began to thrust up to meet your rhythm, careful and still mindful of wounds that would begin healing at sunrise, but you could still feel the effort thrumming under his skin along the tension, the coiled power and the pent-up need trembling through every muscle of his.

The room became a black box of rhythm and ruin—skin colliding, masculine groans, airless moans, and high-pitched whimpers as you took each unforgiving thrust with parted lips and rolling, wet eyes.

Unsurprisingly so, your third orgasm crashed into you suddenly and far more intensely, leaving you wrung out and boneless. Your nails clawed at his skin as your body bowed and clenched. 

Clark was trembling beneath you, sweat gleaming on his brow and chest heaving as he stared at the thundering flesh of your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls like it belonged to him.

Blinking through the blur and focusing on his expression felt like seeing an entirely new man, one who sounded and looked just as mortal as you were. Which was exactly when it dawned on you that he wasn’t.

“Ughhh! Fuck, Clark! Are you–are you c-close?” you whispered, breathless.

He nodded, jaw clenched tight, trying to hold off for a few more seconds with you.

You kissed messily along his jaw, down to his throat, then sat upright, rolling your hips with abandon and meeting each thrust with grace despite the ache in your thighs and your trembling body. From this angle, it felt like he was rearranging your insides.

With a ragged cry, he finally let go, roughly pulling you down and crushing your lips to his as he spilled a heavy load inside the condom, hips jerking up into you with such force that each thrust stole the air from your lungs.

He halted with a groan, staying buried deep inside you for a few shuddering seconds before collapsing onto the mattress, your body limp and slumped over his. Your chests heaved in unison, hearts slowing in tandem, caught in those still, fragile minutes that made you question whether you had ever truly enjoyed sex before this.

One of his hands cradled the back of your head, gentle and rhythmic, while the other traced along the curve of your side so softly it almost felt imagined. You laid there unmoving, your ear over his chest, listening to the slow thud of his heart and the steady rise and fall of his breath as the sun began stretching over the horizon, casting a golden light over your glistening skin.

“So…where exactly were you planning to attach those chains?” you asked quietly, your breathing finally levelled.

It took him a few seconds to reply, his fingertips lazily tracing small, absentminded shapes along the curve of your back. “I didn’t think that far ahead,” he murmured.

You chuckled, your body shaking against his. “Liar.”

You laid there way past sunrise, trapped in your own bubble with no news from the outside world, letting yourselves believe every day could be like this. Maybe you'd work toward it, because when two orbiting bodies drift too close for too long, gravity does what it does best: pulls, tangles and devours…And eventually, combustion isn’t just inevitable... it’s the only possible ending.

----

💌: This is one of the longest pieces i've ever written and it's lead me to ask myself everyday since why tf i didn't chose to write in my own goddamn language. anyway this was great and i want dick :(

[kxsagi]

okay okay play fighting with the blue lock boys (obviously losing) then suddenly realizing you're fucked in real life situations

“𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬”

a/n: HELL YEAH

blue lock nation am i feeding you

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, ness alexis, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi sae, karasu tabito

isagi yoichi

you try to fake a jab to his stomach and suddenly you're getting flipped over his back. no hesitation. no remorse. one minute you're like, “come on, yoi, show me what you got!” and the next you're kissing the hardwood floor like it owes you money. 

he immediately panics, crouching next to you like, “are you okay?? i didn’t mean to actually–” 

no. no. you're not okay. you just realized this man, who giggles over bubble tea and kisses your forehead like it’s his religion, has the strength and reaction speed of a trained assassin. like, genuinely, you try to tickle him and he blocks it like he’s in the matrix. 

and what’s worse? he gets excited. play-fighting turns into a weird drill session and suddenly he’s coaching you mid-chokehold like, “nah, babe, if someone grabs you like this in real life, you wanna turn your body like–” BRO. STOP. YOU’RE DIZZY. this isn’t a lesson, it’s a near-death experience. 

then at night, he wraps those same strong arms around you all innocently like, “you were so cute today trying to fight me.” yeah. cute. until you accidentally die. 

itoshi rin

you slap his back playfully. maybe throw a pillow at his head. you even smirk like you’ve won something. mistake number one. 

rin doesn’t “play.” there’s no such thing as friendly violence to him. your “haha got you!” moment lasts 0.2 seconds before he hip-checks you into the couch, pins your wrists down, and just stares at you like: “... you done?” 

you’re not. but your pride is. 

you wiggle and whine and he doesn’t even move. not an inch. like you’re some featherweight anime character trying to fight a titan. and the worst part is he smirks. a little. just the corner of his mouth. as if to say: “look at you. helpless. how adorable.” 

you go silent. because that’s the moment you realize: if anything ever happened IRL, you would be so utterly screwed. 

you call him a jerk. he kisses your forehead. 

you call him terrifying. he goes, “good.” 

rin might not say much, but the man knows he’s the final boss. 

kaiser michael

you go to jab his side. you don’t even touch him before he grabs your wrist, spins you into his chest, and drops you onto the couch like royalty. all while grinning like he just committed a charming war crime. 

“trying to fight me, huh? do it again. i dare you.” 

you do it again. now you’re pinned against the wall, both arms above your head, zero effort. and he’s just watching you like he’s so amused. like you’re a kitten trying to take down a lion. 

you realize, in the most dramatic slow-mo possible, that this man could ruin your life and still have time to fix his hair in the mirror. he taunts you while he traps you. he winks while you’re wheezing. and he has the audacity to say, “don’t tempt me unless you’re serious.” 

like. sir. you were literally play-fighting. now it feels like foreplay and a threat all at once. 

anyway, you’re never slapping his ass again in public. because if this is how he reacts to teasing… you’ll end up married, injured, or both. 

shidou ryusei

you swing at him and this man barks like a mad dog and tackles you onto the floor. you’re laughing one second and screaming the next because he’s got you in a full body pin, legs tangled with yours, breath fanning against your neck like he’s about to eat you alive. 

“you really think you can take me, babydoll?” 

you’re squirming. yelling. calling for backup. there is none. shidou’s idea of “play fighting” is 80% violence, 20% unhinged flirting, and 100% domination. 

you try to push him off and he just growls. growls. 

you say “you’re gonna break my ribs,” and he goes, “i’ll kiss ‘em better.” 

you say “help i can’t breathe,” and he goes, “i know, hot right?” 

and in that moment, pinned under a half-naked demon boy with biceps for days and no regard for laws or limits, you realize: if someone breaks into your house, he’s not calling the cops. he’s eating them. 

conclusion: shidou’s not allowed to play-fight anymore. or exist near sharp objects. 

ness alexis

he’s graceful. giggly. dramatic. when you throw a pillow, he spins. when you lunge, he twirls. for the first five minutes, you’re like, “aw, this is cute! i can totally win!” 

wrong. 

because the moment you say, “you’re not even trying,” he switches to demon mode. 

and suddenly he grabs you mid-tackle, does this unnecessarily sexy dip like you’re ballroom dancing, and lowers you to the ground slowly, holding your chin. 

“who’s not trying, chérie?” 

you are. you are trying so hard not to combust. 

you try to slap him out of embarrassment, but he catches your hand with two fingers. two. and then leans down, whispering, “you’re fun to tease when you think you have a chance.” 

you lie there in emotional shambles, plotting your next move (which you know will fail). 

nagi seishiro

you go in with a sneak attack. he’s sitting on the couch, arms tucked under a blanket like a lazy lil cat. you smack his thigh. no reaction. then suddenly, your whole body’s horizontal. 

you blink. you’re on the couch. on your back. he’s lying on top of you, sighing like you’re the one that made life hard. 

“mm. don’t start things you can’t finish.” 

you want to scream. cry. maybe kiss him. 

he’s not even trying. you were play-fighting and he just used your own momentum against you like some shonen sensei. 

and when you whine about being manhandled, he doesn’t even apologize. he just curls up next to you and goes, “you’re warm. fight me again later” as if you’re not currently traumatized. 

mikage reo

it all starts because you’re bored. reo’s lounging on the couch in some soft designer hoodie, legs stretched out like he owns the place (which… he probably does), scrolling on his phone like a pampered cat. so you do what any sane person would do: you launch a sneak attack and smack his thigh. hard. 

he pauses. slowly looks up. “... you just hit me.” you nod, smug. “with my bare hand.” 

the next five seconds are a cinematic blur because suddenly he’s standing, phone forgotten, and you’re running for your life down the hallway screaming “I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING!!” 

too late. he catches you so fast it’s like he used a cheat code. you’re tackled onto the bed, wrists pinned, and he’s hovering above you with that perfectly smug smile like he just won the lottery and your suffering was the prize. 

“aw. were you trying to win?” he’s so mocking about it. and pretty. and rich. it’s infuriating. you thrash like a banshee. reo just leans down and hums, “hmm, not strong enough. but very cute.” 

you yell. he laughs. you call him a spoiled brat. he kisses your cheek. you scream “I’M GONNA BITE YOU.” he whispers “then do it properly next time.” 

you go silent. because wait. is he flirting or threatening?? or both??? 

and the worst part? you realize, as you’re pinned under 6’1 of casually jacked billionaire heir energy, that this man could actually survive an apocalypse. he’s not just a fashion-forward golden retriever with a trust fund, he has training. rich kid probably took krav maga lessons for fun. he could break your wrist and then buy you a diamond bracelet for it. 

later, he gets all cuddly again, arms wrapped around you, giggling like, “you’ll never win, y’know. i’m stronger, richer, prettier. you’re just lucky i love you.” 

… and honestly? you are. but also? you will try again next week. and probably lose. again. 

10/10 final boss energy disguised in pastel cashmere. 

itoshi sae

you poke his cheek. smug. maybe even say, “you don’t scare me.” 

he looks up slowly, blank-faced, like a cat about to destroy your entire kitchen just because you looked at it wrong. 

you blink. the next three seconds are a blur. he grabs your wrist, flips you over his shoulder with zero effort, and suddenly you’re face-down on the couch, arms pinned behind your back. he doesn’t even raise his voice. he just whispers, “what was that? didn’t hear you.” 

and you’re just lying there like, did i die??? 

he smirks. the most smug, godforsaken smirk to ever grace a face. and then he lets go like nothing happened and walks away, already on his phone again. the audacity. 

you follow him around all day after that with the most suspicious side-eyes, because how did he instantly go from calm to deadly without blinking? 

and then, just to ruin you further, he leans in at night, all low voice and bedroom eyes, and says, “you looked kinda good when you lost, though.” 

sir. SIR. you need to be stopped. you should not be allowed to combine violence and flirtation like that. 

karasu tabito

he invites you to fight. literally pats the floor and goes, “come on, baby bird, give me your best shot.” 

you throw a punch. he dodges like he’s in slow motion. smirking the entire time. 

“ooh scary. so aggressive. should i be trembling?” 

you yell. flail. kick. maybe scream a little. he lets you. lets you think you’re doing damage for a full minute, then body slams you into a bear hug and drags you down with him. you’re under him now, and he’s just grinning like this is his favorite movie. 

“you mad?” yes. “you wanna hit me again?” also yes. “do it. i’ll just pin you down again.” HE’S SO SMUG ABOUT IT. 

and the worst part? his trash talk is hot. somehow he manages to combine cocky wrestler energy with that teasing, “i’m totally gonna kiss you while you’re mad” vibe. 

you hate him. you love him. and you are never throwing hands with this man again unless you’re trying to get absolutely wrecked (physically or emotionally or… you know). 

and of course, later he stretches like nothing happened and casually goes, “ngl, seeing you all angry made me wanna marry you.” 

karasu tabito. certified menace. do not engage unless you are prepared to lose. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[bsturnzmtts]

Off limits p. 1 - Matt Sturniolo

Pairing: older sisters bf!Matt x innocent!reader

Summary: You’ve always had a small crush on your sister’s boyfriend. But you never acted on it, not until this summer, after you found out some things that changed everything.

Warnings: long plot?, cheating (I don’t condone cheating this is all fiction), teasing, age gap (Matt is 22 reader 18), virgin!reader, oral, lowkey mean!sister, kissing, first orgasm, fingering, pet names, almost caught.

A/n: idk why this took to long sorryy, I hope you guys like it! There will be a part 2! Maybe a bit more spicy…

Word count: 4209

You’ve always had a small crush on Matt Sturniolo. Not in a serious way, just one of those quiet, innocent feelings you keep to yourself. He’s your sister’s boyfriend, after all. Off limits. But still, he’s the only one who’s ever really paid attention to you. He remembers the little things, asks how your day is going, actually listens. Your sister barely does any of that. She’s distant, cold, always annoyed, with you, with him, with everything. So yeah, maybe deep down, you wished Matt was yours.

You’re heading to the cabin early just you, your sister, and Matt. Your parents won’t be arriving for a few more days, so it’ll just be the three of you for a while. It’s supposed to be a relaxing start to summer, until you find out something you weren’t supposed to.

A few nights before the trip, you overheard your sister on the phone where she mentioned she cheated on Matt. She doesn’t know you heard. And Matt still has no clue. Since then, you haven’t been able to act the same around Matt. Everything feels different and confusing.

Later

The cabin is quiet, the only sounds coming from the chirping birds outside and the gentle rustling of leaves. You're sitting on the porch swing, watching Matt carry in the last of the bags from the car. He looks up and catches your eye, giving you a warm smile that makes your heart flutter.

Matt walks over to you, and sets down the bags. "Hey," he says softly, sitting down next to you on the swing. "You okay? You've been quiet since we got here." He nudges your shoulder gently with his own.

Your sister walks out onto the porch just then, overhearing Matt's question to you. She rolls her eyes and interrupts before you can answer. "She's fine, she's always quiet, Matt. Get used to it."

Matt looks between you and your sister, a faint frown on his face. He seems a bit taken aback by her dismissive tone.

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine, just a bit car sick.” You try to brush it off, not wanting to cause any tension. “I’ll go set up my room” You stand up and leave.

You head inside, the cabin still smells like old wood and summer air. You walk down the short hallway to the room you always stay in.

You set your bag down on the bed and sink into the mattress, letting out a slow breath.

You’re not even sure why you lied. You’re not car sick. You just can’t look Matt in the eyes right now.

Not when you know what you know.

Not when he’s still smiling at your sister like she deserves him.

After a few hours, you get hungry and decide to head to the kitchen.

You open your door quietly, stepping into the hallway.

Just as you do, Matt walks out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower, hair damp, a towel slung low around his hips. You freeze mid-step.

He notices you and pauses, a little surprised. “Hey,” he says, a small smile on his face.

Matt's towel is wrapped around his waist, but beads of water are still dripping down his chest and abs. He runs a hand through his wet hair, leaving it slightly messy.

Your heart races as you take in the sight of him. The way the towel barely covers his hips, the muscles of his chest and arms on full display. You feel a warmth spread through your body, a feeling you've never experienced before. You swallow hard, trying to find your voice.

"Uh..." You stammer, your face turning red. You quickly avert your eyes, not wanting him to see the sudden flush on your cheeks or the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "I was just gonna get something to eat."

Matt chuckles softly, seeming to find your reaction adorable. "Help yourself," he says, continuing to walk down the hall towards the bedroom he shares with your sister.

As he walks away, you can't help but steal one last glance at his back and the way the towel hangs low on his hips. You let out a shaky breath and quickly make your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with thoughts you shouldn't be having about your sister's boyfriend.

You grab a soda from the fridge and some chips from the cabinet, trying to focus on anything other than the image of Matt half-naked. You sit down at the kitchen table, taking a big gulp of your soda. Suddenly, you hear some screaming from the bedroom.

The screaming is followed by loud arguing voices - your sister's high-pitched shrill and Matt's deep, frustrated tone. You tense up, recognizing the signs of another one of their fights. This has been happening more frequently lately.

You sit there for a few minutes, listening to the argument escalate. Suddenly, there's silence. And Matt comes out of the bedroom, now dressed, with a pillow in his hand and shuts the door behind.

He sees you sitting at the table and pauses briefly before walking over to the couch. He throws himself down on it, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"You okay?" You ask softly, genuinely concerned. The argument was loud and intense. Matt looks over at you, his expression tired and annoyed. "I'm fine," he snaps, but there's no real anger in his voice, just frustration. He lays back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

You hesitate for a moment before getting up from your chair and walking over to him. ”You can have these.” You say softly as you leave the chips on the coffee table. “I’ll go get you a blanket”

Matt's expression softens slightly as you hand him the chips and offer to get him a blanket. "Thanks..." he murmurs, seemingly caught off guard by your kindness. He's touched by your thoughtful gesture, especially after the fight he just had with your sister. As you return with the blanket, he sits up and takes it from you, he lets out a heavy sigh. "You shouldn't hear all that shit," he adds quietly, as if realizing you probably caught most of their argument.

You shrug, trying to downplay it. "It's fine…I'm used to it," you admit quietly, looking down. "You two fight a lot lately." You bite your lip, debating whether to say more, but you decide not to. “Goodnight” you softly mumble as you head to your room.

Matt nods slowly, taking in your words. He knows their relationship has been strained, but he didn't realize it was that noticeable. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again, seeming to think better of it. Instead, he just nods slightly. "Goodnight," he replies softly, watching as you head to your room.

The next morning, Matt is already awake and sitting at the kitchen table when you come downstairs. He's drinking coffee and scrolling on his phone, but he looks up as you enter. "Morning," he says, his voice a bit gruff from sleep but carrying a warmth that wasn't there yesterday.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit down across from him, trying to act casual. "Morning," you reply softly, taking a sip. The tension from last night seems to have dissipated, but there's still an underlying awkwardness between you both. “Where’s my sister?”

"She left early," Matt answers briefly, running a hand through his messy hair. "Had some errands to run." He avoids your gaze, focusing on his phone instead. There's a pause before he adds, "She won't be back till late." Another silence falls between you two.

You nod, taking another sip of your coffee. The house feels oddly quiet without your sister around, and the tension with Matt is making the atmosphere even more uncomfortable. You set your mug down and fidget with the hem of your shirt, debating whether to say something to break the ice. "So..."

"Mm?" Matt lifts his head up to look at you, those deep blue eyes meeting yours.

"Nothing," you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly at the sudden eye contact. You look away, feeling self-conscious. "I was just going to... ask something stupid."

Matt raises an eyebrow but smiles slightly, leaning back in his chair. "Ask something stupid then," he says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. His expression is more relaxed than it has been since last night.

"Um... nevermind," you laugh softly, feeling embarrassed. You stand up suddenly, grabbing your coffee mug. "I'm gonna go..." You trail off, heading towards the living room before you can say something even stupider.

Matt watches you go, a small smile still playing on his lips. He shakes his head slightly, amused by your flustered reaction. After a moment, he gets up from the table and follows you into the living room. "You know what?" he says as he leans against the doorway.

You turn to face him, holding your coffee mug tightly. "Hmm?" you a, your voice slightly shaky. He looks handsome standing there in his worn-out t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair messy from sleep. You quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your mug instead.

"You get really shy all of a sudden," Matt remarks softly, observing your body language. He's starting to realize that you hardly maintain eye contact, like you're nervous around him. “And you’ve been acting a bit weird around me lately.”

"Have I?" you ask quietly, taking a small sip of your coffee to avoid answering immediately.

"Yeah..." Matt observes your facial expressions carefully. He's starting to wonder if he imagined the fact that you used to laugh and joke around with him easily. Now you barely look at him or talk to him much. "Did I... do something to make you act like this?"

You shake your head quickly, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. "No," you say softly. "You didn't do anything wrong." You finally look up at him briefly before glancing away again.

Matt notices your quick glance and the slight blush on your cheeks. He's starting to piece things together but wants to hear it from you directly. "Then why are you acting like this?" he asks gently, taking a step closer. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he steps closer. You can feel the heat radiating off of his body. You don’t know if you should snitch on your sister and tell him the truth, or just stay quiet about her cheating.

"Listen..." gentle but carrying a hint of frustration. "If it’s about your sister cheating on me… i already know.”

You freeze slightly, then relax. "So..." you say carefully, testing the waters. "You know?" You try to keep your voice steady, like you're not curious about whether he's heartbroken or not.

"Yeah," Matt confirms briefly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He watches your reaction carefully. "I’m not blind or dumb you know.” He lets out a small chuckle.

"Does she… know you know?" You ask softly, your curiosity getting the better of you. You set your coffee mug down on the side table, turning to face him fully. You can't help but notice how calm he seems about the whole thing.

"No, she doesn’t," Matt replies, his gaze lingering on your face. "I’ve been pretending like everything's normal between us. But to be honest... I'm tired of it. I'm tired of her lies and secrets. Plus she loves arguing with me about nothing literally, I’ll just let her be. I'm not gonna chase after her this time.”

You notice a hint of relief in his voice, and you can't help but feel a little lighter knowing he's not heartbroken over her. "I... didn’t know if I should’ve told you, I didn’t want to snitch on my sister. I’m sorry.”

Matt smiles slightly, finding your innocence cute. "You don't need to apologize," he says gently. “I know you knew about it too,” Matt says suddenly, catching you off guard “I saw how you were acting around me lately… like something was bothering you.”

"You could tell?" You ask softly, feeling a bit embarrassed that he noticed your unusual behavior.

"Yeah," he says with a small smile, taking another step closer to you. "You've been avoiding eye contact, hardly talking to me... pretty obvious actually." His eyes meet yours intensely, holding your gaze just a little longer than usual. "I mean, we always had a good relationship."

"Yeah," you agree quietly, your heart beating a bit faster as he steps closer.

Matt's smile widens slightly as he sees your reaction. He decides to take another step forward, closing the gap between you two. "You know..." he continues softly, his voice carrying a tone that makes you feel slightly nervous and flustered. “We could make our relationship even better… while she’s out.” He says, looking at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes again.

"But..." you stammer slightly, feeling your face flush. His closeness is making it hard to think straight. "You..." you try to form a coherent sentence but your voice comes out quieter than intended. "You’re my sister's boyfriend…”

"I know…" he murmurs softly, his presence almost deliberately invading your personal space. His hand gently finds its way to lean against the wall behind you, effectively trapping you there gently but intentionally. "But she cheated on me." He adds with a hint of a teasing smirk, his eyes searching yours.

"Yeah… I know," you whisper softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes flicker down to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze again. "But..." you hesitate, feeling torn between guilt and desire. “You’re still my sister’s boyfriend…”

Matt's smirk grows wider, understanding your internal struggle. He leans in just a fraction closer, his breath mingling with yours. "Yet you still have a crush on me," he whispers, his lips almost brushing against your ear as he speaks.

You blush deeply, feeling heat spread across your cheeks. "I..." you try to deny it but the words catch in your throat. You look up into his eyes, seeing the desire mirrored there. "How do you know?," you a softly, your voice barely audible.

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes directly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. "Because I've seen the way you look at me," he says honestly, his thumb lightly brushing over your bottom lip. "The way you blush when I'm around..." He chuckles gently remembering how nervous you always get. “How flustered you got yesterday when you saw me walk out of the shower.”

Your face turns beet red at the memory of seeing Matt half naked, his muscular body dripping with water. You can't help but get more nervous as he continues to tease you, his thumb pressing softly against your lips. "You..." You swallow hard, his thumb still on your lip making it difficult to speak. "You can't... You can't just say stuff like that." Your voice comes out breathy and weak.

Matt laughs softly, finding your innocence adorable. "You always get like this” He muses, realizing how innocent you really are. "Have you…kissed before?”

You hesitate before shaking your head softly, your eyes flickering down to his lips briefly. "Never," you admit quietly, your voice barely audible. You swallow hard, feeling even more nervous now that he knows you have no experience.

Matt's heart races at your admission. He can't believe how innocent you are - no kisses, no boyfriends... He leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you want to. His lips brush against yours softly at first, testing the waters. “Fuck…” he whispers under his breath before pressing his lips gently against yours. It's a soft kiss, testing the waters while giving you plenty of opportunity to pull away if needed.

You freeze initially, shocked by the sudden kiss. Your eyes widen slightly before closing instinctively. You part your lips softly without even realizing it, giving him better access. Matt deepens the kiss gently, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck to hold you closer.

The kiss is gentle and exploratory, unlike anything you've ever experienced. Your heart races in your chest as you feel his lips move against yours, his tongue tracing your bottom lip softly. You whimper softly, unsure of what to do but unable to pull away.

Matt takes your whimper as encouragement and slips his tongue into your mouth, gently exploring. He kisses you deeply, passionately, pouring all his pent-up desire and frustration into it. His hand moves from your neck to the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you breathless.

Matt breaks the kiss, breathing heavily as he stares at you with heated eyes. A smirk plays on his lips as he sees your flushed face and parted lips.

“Did you like that?” Matt asks, his voice low and huy. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "I know I did." His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You're too stunned to speak, your mind reeling from the intense kiss. All you can manage is a soft, breathy "Mm-hmm" as Matt's hand on your waist sends shivers down your spine.

Matt smiles softly at your response, finding it cute how innocent you are. He tests another question, "Do you want to learn more things?” His voice drops lower.His thumb brushes your hipbone, making you squirm slightly.

You bite your lip nervously, unsure if you should ask but too curious to stop now. "More... things?" you repeat softly, your cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. Your eyes flick down to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze again. "Like... what?"

Matt's smirk deepens, enjoying your innocence and curiosity. "You'll see," he says softly, his voice laced with promise. He takes your hand gently and leads you towards the bed. His movements are slow and deliberate, giving you plenty of time to change your mind if you want to.

Matt gently pushes you back onto the bed, following you down so that you're lying underneath him. He props himself up on his elbows, caging you in between his arms. "Open your mouth." He says, his voice low and huy.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what he wants to do. But the curiosity and excitement in your chest wins out over your nerves. You open your mouth slightly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Matt swallows hard, finding your obedience incredibly sexy. He lowers his face to yours and slips his tongue into your open mouth again, this time kissing you deeper and more intensely. His hand moves to your thigh, slowly hiking up your skirt as he kisses you.

As Matt kisses you deeply, his fingers trail up your inner thigh, getting closer to the hem of your underwear. You whimper softly into the kiss, one of your hands gripping his shirt tightly stopped his hand.

Matt freezes, his tongue still exploring your mouth. He pulls back slightly to look at you, watching as you unconsciously tighten your thighs together. "Trust me, I’ll make you feel good." His voice drops lower, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh where your hand stopped him.

"But..." you whimper softly, biting your lip as your legs press together tighter. "It's just..." You bite your lip again, hesitating. "No one's ever touched me there before." You admit softly, your cheeks burning red.

"Shhh..." he hushes you softly, his other hand gently stroking your hair. "I just wanna make you feel good" he whispers against your lips. His thumb traces the edge of your underwear, making you shiver.

He kisses you deeply again to distract you as his fingers slowly slip underneath your underwear. You gasp into his mouth as he touches you there for the first time, his fingers gentle and exploratory. He breaks the kiss to whisper,"Shh, just relax..." His fingers start to move slowly over your clit.

You let out a soft whimper as his fingers start to move, your back arching slightly off the bed. It feels strange at first, but also really good. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as he continues to touch you, your legs falling open unconsciously.

Matt watches you carefully, seeing your innocent reactions. He adds more pressure to your clit, his fingers moving in slow circles. He swallows hard watching how responsive you are, completely untouched before. "Spread your legs wider for me," he whispers huskily against your neck, placing soft kisses there.

You spread your legs wider as he asks, feeling shy but also wanting more. He slips a finger inside you slowly, watching your face closely. You're so tight and wet for him that he has to go slow. He kisses your neck again to calm you down.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight." He whispers against your neck. He starts to move his finger slowly in and out of you, stretching you. You whimper softly, gripping the bedsheets. It feels weird having something inside you, but it also feels really good.

He adds a second finger, stretching you gently. You let out a soft cry into his shoulder as he kisses you deeply to muffle the sound. His fingers curl inside you, hitting a spot that makes your whole body jerk. "Shh shh shh..." he whispers against your lips, kissing you softly.

You clench around his fingers tightly, panting heavily as he continues to touch you in all the right spots. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as you bury your face in his chest to muffle your moans. "M-Matt..." you whimper his name, "It feels so...weird, but good..." You bite your lip, your face flushed.

Matt smiles softly at your words, pleased by your innocent reactions. He continues to move his fingers inside you slowly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "I know baby," he whispers, kissing your forehead gently. "Let me make it feel really good..." He picks up speed slightly.

Without warning, he starts moving down your body, placing kisses along your stomach. You blush deeply, trying to close your legs but he gently keeps them open. He looks up at you with hooded eyes. "Just trust me, okay..." He slowly starts taking off your skirt and panties.

He throws your clothes aside and spreads your legs wider, settling between them. He looks at your innocent pussy, completely bare and untouched. He swallows hard before diving down and pressing his mouth against you. You let out a loud gasp as he starts licking and sucking on your clit gently.

His tongue moves expertly over your clit, his hands spreading your legs wider to give him better access. He keeps his movements gentle and slow, knowing you're a virgin. You start squirming underneath him, your hands gripping his hair as you whimper and moan softly.

You pant heavily, your voice trembling with pleasure. "M-Matt...what...what are you doing...it feels so...good..." You arch your hips up slightly towards his mouth trying to get more pressure from him.

He looks up at you briefly, his eyes dark with desire. "Just enjoying you..." He says before going back down to lick your pussy more eagerly now that he knows you're loving it. He slips two fingers inside you again while continuing to suck on your clit.

"Oh my god..." you gasp out, your body tensing as his fingers move in and out while his tongue works its magic on your sensitive clit. "It's...it's too much..." Your legs shake slightly, and you can feel yourself getting closer to something you've never experienced before.

He feels you getting closer and starts moving his fingers faster, curling them inside you to hit that spot that makes your eyes roll back. He sucks hard on your clit, wanting to make you come undone. "That's it baby, let go for me..." he murmurs against your pussy.

Suddenly, you break apart. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud moan that turns into a series of whimpers as you come for the first time. Matt keeps his face buried between your legs, lapping up your release gently as your body shakes with pleasure.

He kisses his way back up your body once you've stopped shaking. He looks down at you with soft eyes filled with love and desire. "Did that feel good baby?" He asks, kissing your neck gently.

You’re about to answer as you hear the front door opening.

"Matt?" Your sister's voice calls out from the front door. You both freeze, your eyes wide with shock and panic. Matt quickly pulls up your skirt to cover you, but you can still feel the wetness between your legs and the lingering sensitivity.

Matt quickly kisses your forehead and jumps off the bed, and helps you get up "Go hop in the shower real quick, okay?" He says quietly, giving you a soft smile to calm you down. "I'll deal with her."

Taglist pt 1:

@blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws @sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa

@mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @annsx03 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @strnzzvsp

@mattsfavbitchhh @yourenogoodforme-blog @mattshighway @lauren-222 @slvtformatts

@megamorgan44 @xaristhings @ariestrxsh @sucretwin @tisiablack

@nelxoxo14 @miasturn1ol0 @mattssslutbby @sophsturns @sturnberrys

@sturniololover69 @wakeupitschrizz @jessie-essie @freshlov3 @sturniolofreakk

@lydi2718 @chrisstvrns @le4hsblog @pip4444chris @chris-hallelujah

@esioleren @namelesssav @ilovemenwithlonghairr @ribread03 @valkatriee

@sturniolofreakk @izzylovesmatt @lolastrniolo @pip4444chris @idrk2292

@strnilolover @2prcntmilkluvr @chrissbows @chrissweetheart @strvnolin

[emmanation]

the senses shift last mindset is quietly ruining your journey

this whole senses shift last business has become a bit of a poisoned chalice. and i'm not saying that it's completely off the mark, it's not, but people take it and run in the entirely wrong direction. and when you're on the wrong track, no amount of speed is going to get you where you're meant to be.

so, now what it ends up doing is sneaking delay in through the back door.

like, okay, let's say you've ticked the box, signed the form, said "i'm in my dr," and then instead of just cracking on with it, you sit tight, waiting for the walls to turn marble white gold and the air to smell like the fragrance of jannah. and when that doesn't happen in five minutes flat, you say.....ah, well. senses shift last. i suppose it's still on the way.

when you do that, what you're actually doing is making waiting your state. we're past the point where you're assuming you're already there, now you're just assuming that you'll get there eventually, which means you're not there yet. and if you're not there yet, where are you?

right. still over here.

people in this community treat delay as if it's some abstract obstacle imposed by the universe or whatever system you subscribe to, alas, it is not an admin error or a queue in customs. it is entirely a you thing. it is you assuming it'll happen later, that it's not here now. that it's coming, but not arrived. and because you assume that, your awareness sits in the version of reality where you're still waiting.

it is entirely self-fulfilling, and you're dressing for a flight you've already missed.

the trouble is that people are pinning everything on the moment it feels different. they want the moment and the proof and the gut punch of realisation that comes along with it. but if you're chasing a moment, you're not living in the state, now you're just chasing it. you're treating the assumption as if it's a bet you picked, and now you're pacing the bookie's window to see if your horse came in, that's not how it works.

what's happening under the hood is: you affirm i am in my dr, and in doing so, you're placing your awareness there. like actually and practically because now that's where you are. and every time you come back to it, i am in my dr, you're reorienting. literally adjusting the wheel while driving. i hope. HOPE! you know that you're not waiting for something to occur, now you're just staying in line with what already is.

now, if instead, you go: "i am in my dr, but nothing has changed, so maybe it’s not working yet" then congratulations, you've booted yourself out of the assumption and back into the waiting room.

you're checking the post box for a letter you already wrote, signed, sealed, and sent to yourself.

this is what senses shift last should mean, that the feedback from your senses is often lagging behind the state you've chosen, and not because it's trying to punish you or teach you something. it's just a matter of where attention goes, your five senses are creatures of habit, they need a bit of time to catch up with what you've already internally accepted.

if you're standing around waiting for confirmation, you're doing what every beginner in this space does. you're treating the assumption as a request, not as the shift itself. you're assuming "i've affirmed, now the world will show me something." which is not how it works, the shift doesn't happen after the world proves it. the shift IS the moment you assumed. the rest is none of your business.

you think you're being realistic by saying "well, obviously it's not here yet, but it will be," but actually what you're doing is anchoring yourself to that very state of absence.

cause now every time you look around and say, it's not here yet, but it will be, you are doubling down on the idea that it's not here yet, not that it might be.

you're essentially watering the weed and then wondering why your flower bed is bare.

delay is not about time, nor is it about the universe putting you in a holding pen. your brain is dragging its feet. it's about you saying, i'll believe it when i see it, and then not seeing it, and then not believing it. and round it goes.

that's what delay is. it's a treadmill.

because you're literally not waiting for your senses. they are waiting for YOU.

this isn't a call for blind faith or performative cheerfulness or about pretending something's real until you're blue in the face.

you're understanding that awareness is the engine room, what you pay attention to IS what you affirm, and what you affirm is where you go.

so stop treating your senses like a litmus test.

it doesn't matter if you feel it. it doesn't matter if you see it.

it does not at all matter if the walls are still the same colour or your hands look the same. what matters is: did you say it? did you assume it? then that's it, and you're done, and now hold your line.

if you want to actually live in your dr, and not just sit at the platform waiting for the train to arrive, you've got to stop asking your senses for permission. so stop waiting for the fireworks, stop treating doubt like a weather system you have to brace for, your assumption is the state, your awareness is the shift.

now before the whole thing gets tied up with a neat little bow, we've got to address the panic side of things. because if there's one thing that really gums up the works, it's people thinking that their assumption isn't good enough, or isn't working, or that they've somehow done it wrong.

and once that line of thinking creeps in, the whole thing starts unravelling like a jumper caught on a nail.

so let's get this down plain and clear: changing your assumption is not akin to some metaphysical divorce proceeding.

you're not locked into one idea like it's a mortgage. you're allowed to, and in fact expected to, reorient. if you realise you've gone off course or gotten spooked by the silence, all you've got to do is pick a new line and keep walking. no bells and whistles, you shift the assumption, not the stars.

when you panic over whether or not the assumption is solid, or whether you've ruined the shift by having a bit of a wobble, you're playing hide and seek with your own reality. and not in a fun way.

you're the one with your hands on the wheel, right? and if you're constantly waiting for someone else to tell you it's safe to proceed, you're going to end up stuck at the lights until kingdom come.

when you fall into this pattern, the checking, the worrying, the outsourcing, what you're really doing is giving your power away to an imaginary tribunal. you're acting as if there's a central authority somewhere, monitoring your thoughts and stamping them approved or denied. there isn't, it's just you, always has been.

and yes, of course senses shift last can be comforting. especially for people who've spent years waiting, waiting to be seen, waiting to be chosen, waiting to feel different, waiting for a break, it slots right into the familiar groove. it says: don't worry, the delay is part of the process. you're doing fine. you'll get there. just trust this.

and it's tempting to cling to that, because in a world that runs on deferred gratification, it fits like an old pair of shoes.

alas, that comfort can turn into complacency, and then into passivity, and then into this soft-focus patience that masks what's actually happening, which is: you're sitting in the same place, hoping something external will do the heavy lifting.

but yet. shifting isn't something done to you, it's something you are.

you don't need to sit and twiddle your thumbs while waiting for confirmation.

nor do you need to wrestle with the question of whether it's happening.

you say it, and then you hold your line.

and if you wobble? if you slip? if the old assumptions creep back in? no need to light a candle or start over.

just drop the old one as if it's a bad habit and keep going. carry on as if.

that's all.

special applause reserved to the loveliest to lovely @sheeezu, who was my think thank throughout this.

[heartkaji]

currently thinking about what it’d be like to have fratboy! gojo & getou voicing over your grwm makeup videos for tiktok

“suguru what the fuck is she smiling at.”

“i wouldn’t be smiling if i was this chopped.”

heaven forbid you give the camera a little smile & wave before beginning your routine. the video begins & satoru’s taken it upon himself to narrate the video in a sassy twink voice, its obnoxious pitch blaring through the speakers as the video plays.

“and now guys i’m applying my rhode skin hydrating fluid to give myself that clean girl glow—hailey please sponsor us.”

“wait isn’t that just moisturizer?”

“girl i don’t know i use two in one spf and cream.”

“oh, period.”

you can hear the sounds of linen shifting as you finish your skincare & dive into your makeup. you start off with foundation, flashing the bottle at the camera before dabbing some onto your skin.

“now some face coverage. gotta hide them pimples you feel me?”

“why this girl got so many pimples.”

“mm..not very feminine.”

satoru clicks his tongue, tone nothing less than judgy. the video continues as you press more foundation to your cheeks: “more concealer…and more…and—bro all this concealer for what? y/n if you’re not careful you’ll conceal your destiny.”

“yo you sound like an african parent.”

“i love jollof rice.”

after dabbing your face you’re dusting bronzer across your temple, cheekbones brushed as well to give yourself a more ‘lifted’ look.

“oh that’s bronzer! okay i put the bronzer…to look darker than i already am…? suguru why is she blackfishing.”

“it’s giving monkey,” a pause. “wait can we edit that out?”

you apply a lighter shade concealer to your under eyes. “oh that’s a lighter skin color. why’s she racially confused?”

“maybe she’s just mixed?” “fairs.”

you continue to apply all sorts of creams to your face, different brushes & blenders dabbing against your skin. from the speaker you can hear the muffled sounds of gojo and getou bickering over what’s going on your face & what’s not. satoru clears his throat:

“yesss get it james charles. we got no idea what the fuck she’s doin’.”

“y/n is actually lowkey ugly when you look at her too long.”

“that’s not ridiculous to say it’s not ridiculous to say that.”

a breathy laugh is muffled by the speakers, & suguru takes over as you begin your lips.

“oh that’s that lip shadow thing. alright alright, we apply the lip shadow—girl nobody wanna see them crusty ass lips stop puckering that shit looking like a love island UK contestant.”

“WORDDD.” at this point you can hear gojo wheezing in the background, clapping his hands frantically as he slaps suguru’s back repeatedly.

you can hear the grin in satoru’s voice as he speaks: “yo y/n, on some real shit drop the lip combo i need that.”

“fruity ass. i’ll just stick to my vaseline extra shine.”

“bro, that’s why bitches don’t kiss you.” “shut the fuck up.”

you flash a container of powder to the screen, hand behind the product to reveal the name as the camera settles.

“oop—now we’re powdering our face with LA ROCHE PUSSYYYYY.”

“bro can you read? it’s posay”

“nobody give a fuck.”

the video continues & you flash a pen-like bottle at the screen before unscrewing the cap to reveal a wand. gently you apply your mascara, & satoru excitedly takes the mic once again.

“now we’re doing our lashes with maybellineee. maybelline please sponsor us.”

“yo stop begging for sponsorships are you poor?”

“man can i network in peace? if you shut up i’ll give you head.”

“fuck yeah. love you bro.”

“kisses babe.” the sound of a wet kiss echoes through the speakers; followed by boyish giggles.

“and now we’re done! oh no we’re not. oh my gosh this is so much makeup. am i watching an asian makeup transformation video?”

“wait satoru don’t say that you’ll make her insecure.”

“sorry y/n,” “sorry.”

the audio goes silent as you continue with your makeup in peace.

“y/n’s forhead is so big.”

“bro i’m saying.”

“satoru is my forehead big, check it.” the audio dies down to mattress shifts & stretches of linen before gojo’s voice comes through:

“nah you’re good. sexy ass forehead.” if you hold your phone a little closer, you can hear the smack of lips against suguru’s temple.

“babe don’t gas me i knew i was tea,” suguru begins, “y/n on the other hand…”

the audio picks up the sound of getou shuddering. the video continues & soon you’re spraying your face, posing into the camera as you conclude your makeup routine & begin to get up from your desk.

“YESSSS WE’RE DONEE”

“PERIOD FINALLY!!!”

“wait why is she shaking her ass.”

“bro get this ghetto bitch off my screen.”

KAISEN UNIVERSITY

#GO PANDAS !

HEARTKAJI 2025. do not steal, edit, translate, or re-upload.

[redrage71890]

Backing Voice (Yan! KPDH x Fem! MC) Part 4

Synopsis: Sorting out ways to help Rumi's voice one day leads to the discovery of an emerging demon boy band. Their song hypnotic as they hastily gain fans all around. HUNTR/X being less than happy with the results.

Genres: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Yandere

CW: None

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Word Count: 3.6k A/N: Hi I took a break and might have forgotten a few plot points whilst forgetting to write them down before hand :D

————————————————————

"Girls! *huff* I'm sorry I'm late! I got caught up with someone..."

Bursting through the door of the empty restaurant (Y/N) apologises first without thinking. Seeing the three girls at a small table as they long forget their food.

Zoey and Mira gleams seeing the (f/c)nette, though Rumi looks more surprised. "(Y/N)! You made it." Zoey waves at her as the manager awkwardly waves back, taking a seat in between Mira and Rumi.

"Again, I'm sorry..."

"Hey. Its alright. We haven't really started eating anyway."

"No. Its not only that. What happened during rehearsals, I didn't mean to sound mean o-or dismissive of you girls. Its just stress for me. But! I p-promise I'll be better and I'll be there to back you girls up no matter what."

(Y/N) puts on a confident smile for the girls, a fluttering sensation flowing through their hearts at the rare sight. Zoey breaks the silence by giggling at the feeling in her chest. (Y/N) not particular sure why the black-nette started giggling but joined her nonetheless.

"But. Back to before." Cutting off their giggles with a more serious expression. "I'll be honest here, its going to be hard to reschedule the live show because of the sudden cancellation."

"We got that impression from Bobby earlier..." Mira states.

"I...I'm sorry guys. My voice, its in trouble."

'Trouble? That's new.'

"Wait, in trouble? Then why did you push up the 'Golden' release?"

"Because we're so close, and its so important." Rumi states. But her tone and words made (Y/N) curiously think more.

'So close?'

"Okay, how do we handle this? What do we tell the fans? Maybe we should call Celine?"

"I don't advice that. We know what she'd say."

"Oh, right."

"We are hunters. Voices strong. Your faults and fears must never be seen."

Zoey and Mira reciting what their predecessor echoed at them. (Y/N) furrowed her brows at the phrase.

Her and her mother were never one to follow that motto. Mother in particular despising it. It being forced upon her as she tried to hide all her faults to the point of breakdowns and frustration. It always made her searing patterns appear.

"Rumi, why don't we take a break? We'll skip the Idol Awards this year and-"

"No. No way. Its our most important show. Its when we strengthen the honmoon for the entire year. We can't skip it. We just can't. Not when I'm so close."

‘Close to what? You’re not telling us something Rumi. Though….isn’t that ironic…’

What’s (Y/N) to say about secrets when she herself hasn’t been completely honest. But when has anyone ever been completely transparent. It’s not like every secret needs to be spilled just because someone wants to know. We have a right to keep things to ourselves.

Though in this case, Rumi’s secret might become a massive headache for them.

”Hey, we’ll get through this. We can get through anything. Together.” Zoey’s encouragement bringing on a slightly more relaxed expression on Rumi.

”Okay. We have two weeks to fix Rumi’s voice. Any ideas?”

”I do have one idea.”

”Just one?”

“Shoot, Zoey.”

”Okay, actually, 57, but let’s start with my favourite. Don’t worry. It’s totally legit.”

Shrugging her shoulders and leaning on her elbow against the table, (Y/N) watches the girls listen to Zoey explaining some of her ideas.

She won’t outright say it in the moment, but some of these ideas boarded along the lines of obvious scams and false promises. As much as Zoey at times annoyed (Y/N), she didn’t have the heart to tell her the likely truths.

“(Y/N), why aren’t you eating? We ordered plenty for you.” Zoey questions their manager. “O-Oh, right. Sorry I’ve been a bit lost in thought recently.” Brushing off their stares she picks up her utensils and began digging into her food.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Mira asks with a more worried frown. Zoey and Rumi holding similar expressions with more concern.

Seeing as she can’t get herself out of this conversation, she just sighed and stopped eating. “(Sigh) I’m not getting away from this, am I?” Averting her gaze up to meet the three sets of eyes on her. “Okay then. I….had another….one of my episodes. Right when Rumi left rehearsals...”

Uttering those words, the hunters all clung to her body in a tight yet comforting hug. It’s not been the first time this happened. Well. More like the third time this happened.

The first time was after their debut, a quite public breakdown occurred back stage. It was embarrassing to be seen by the staff. Her mother was the one that told the girls of her anxiety attacks.

The second was right before the tour started. The sheer amount of organising, meetings and calls she did was breaking her mind out of pure exhaustion. The girls found her hyperventilating in the bathroom on the dirty tiles with her attempted eyeliner dripping down her face.

And now, marks the third time.

Well, they technically weren’t there for this one.

A private meltdown with no one to hear or comfort her.

"Never apologise for experiencing that. We should be sorry for not being there for you." Mira gently pats her (f/c) hair.

"Please don't be afraid to come for us! We will always be there for you!" Zoey cries out clinging to her back.

"Yes, (Y/N). Let us know if anything troubles you. We'll do anything to help in anyway!" Rumi adds hugging her side.

The three hunters felt guilty for there actions. Not being there for (Y/N) hurt them. They hate seeing her so stressed. The girls really wish their lovely manager would confined in them more.

Unfortunately though, their said manager just really needed a breath of fresh air that's currently being crushed out of her lungs.

"G-Guys....y-you can let go n-now..."

————————————————————

After a big hugging session putting the four of them to sleep, the girls dressed in their best disguises and went out in the streets of Seoul. (Y/N) was glad she managed to sleep for a whole night for once. But she still wished she slept in her own bed and not on the couch with the girls.

Donning her classic baggy attire but with a cap obscuring her eyes. Ignoring the face mask as she got the feeling it wasn't necessary. Though she also remembered Jinu and his buddies putting on a show today. Just before leaving she stuffed the flyer in her pockets as a reminder.

But as of now, she follows the girls to make sure this guy Zoey recommends doesn't do anything.

Though hearing what Zoey is saying makes her want to divert them away as fast as possible.

"He's got this special tonic. Apparently, it can heal anything from sore throats to relationship problems."

'Oh you don't say!'

"Ssh! Quietly, Zoey."

"Why are there so many people today?"

(Y/N) noted how populated the area is at the moment. Of course the girls are worried about being seen and finding their disguises online. Our girl especially would rather not be seen on any post.

"Down that alleyway."

Diverging their path from the busy streets, they stood at the foot of an old hanok building refurnished to a clinic with an LED sign with the name 'Han 의원'.

'Yeah... this seems totally legit...'

"Yep, about as legit as I expected."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one thinking that." Mira smiles her way unknowingly.

"Earth and herby. Smells legit to me."

"Yay! That's the spirit! 가자 가자 가자!"

"Hurry, before someone sees us."

Entering the building the girls are greeted with the appearance of a usual doctors front desk/office. Though catching the eyes of our manager and Rumi was a wall lined with numerous signed framed pictures of the doctor and what appears to be celebrities. Seemingly other idols.

Though one picture caught her eye.

A group of four boys giving each other a back hug whilst leaning on the others shoulders, with the doctor strangely at one side gesturing to them. Those faces were oddly familiar.

Dragging her out of her head was the sound of the doctor entering. Standing up to bow and greet the doctor as he urges them to sit.

"You need no introduction. So, a problem with your voice."

"Yes. So we need one of your awesome tonics. Something that will work super fast."

"Okay, let me see."

(Y/N) automatically knew they guy ain't legit. Not bothering to do a proper examination of her throat and instead just staring at her with bulged out eyes.

"I see. I see.... No. Actually, I don't see. Very strange. You have lots of walls up."

"Whoa! He's so good, right?"

"I dunno about that Zoey..." Muttering to herself while messaging her temples.

Rumi scoffs at the comment but Mira quickly affirms that she indeed, does. Denial is not exactly on her side today.

"I'm just trying to stay focused."

"Focus is good, but focusing on one part leads to ignoring other parts, making you separated, isolated."

Her brows raised at the observation. Her own experience agrees with the statement. Mira and Zoey quickly agreeing with the doctor and stating their own views of the sometimes emotionally closed off workaholic known as Rumi. Their leader.

'This does not feel like a doctors appointment. If anything, its just a guy stating out obvious traits and iss-'

"Quiet, yet vocal. A mind racing with thoughts unheard. Silenced by those around, only eager for something else."

She didn't realise the doctor was pointedly staring at her.

"W-What?"

"Yeah, what are saying to our dear manager!" Zoey exclaims clinging onto her side.

"Z-Zoey. Its fine. P-Please let go." She asks of the eager girl, the said giving her some sparkly puppy eyes before letting go.

"How does this help me get my voice back?"

"As I said, to treat the part, we must understand the whole."

"(Groan) That's great, but I thought we were here just for your tonics."

"Just give us the voice juice."

————————————————————

Whilst the girls were waiting for the tonics, (Y/N) decided to wait outside for them. She trusts them enough to get the tonics, as much as she isn't fond of them.

That picture on the wall seemed oddly familiar.

'Where have I seen those boys from...'

With her time as a manager for HUNTR/X, she's seen and met a fair share of trainees and idols. Perhaps that is why they seemed familiar. But even then, nothing noteworthy comes up when she saw their faces. Man she wishes she could remember where she saw these guys.

Shaking her head to try and ward off these strangely curious thoughts.

'This shouldn't be occupying my brain as much as it should. I should be thinking about another song to sing for tomorrow night, I have another pacifying to d-'

"Oof!"

"Sorry, are you alright?"

So caught up in her mind that she ended up wandering out of the alleyway. Clashing bodies with a strong built guy and falling to her knees by accident.

"Y-Yeah, I'm f-fin- Oh. You're the guys I saw with Jinu last night." Meeting the familiar short pink haired friend of Jinu. The said male had his eyes widen slightly before turning down back to normal. A glint of mischief in his eyes with a thought.

"We never fully introduced ourselves, I'm called Abby." Bowing his head slightly as a greeting whilst helping her up.

"I'm Romance, Jinu mentioned me last time we saw each other." The longer pink haired male comes up from behind and leans on Abby's shoulder.

"I remember that."

"The one pouting behind me is our maknae, Baby Saja. And the last with the long fringe is Mystery." The mentioned maknae side-eyed Romance from his confirmed pouting face.

(Y/N) felt a chin resting on her shoulder, feeling the fluffy silver grey hair of Mystery tickling her face and neck. His close contact sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. Glancing her gaze down slightly, she can see the slight run-through of purple patterns across his exposed face, a quick reminder on what they are really.

Moving her shoulders up forces Mystery off with a sad pout on his face from the action.

"Well, its nice to meet you guys. Aren't you performing today?" She questions with a shiver to her body, still uncomfortable with Mystery's strange 'greeting' to her.

"Why yes, we are. Are you sticking around to watch us?" Romance asks with a flirtatious wink.

(Y/N) already decided she was going to watch them, purely to see what kind of concept her and HUNTR/X are working against. Though the pastel clothing was enough to tell her. Now its a matter of curiosity.

Shrugging her shoulders while stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I don't see why not. I'm actually also waiting for some friends, so I may as well kill some time."

"I'm so glad to hear that!"

Turning up her attention she sees Jinu pushing past the other boys (who don't look that happy with the action), an excited expression etching onto his face upon seeing her. His presence calming her shivers ever so slightly.

"I'm gonna assume you were organising your stage Jinu?" Crossing her arms and putting on a more professional tone. She may consider Jinu a new friend, but that doesn't mean he's off the hook as a demon yet.

His reason for being on the surface is enough to raise suspicion.

"Your powers would be of great use, considering you guys don't seem to have a manager in sight. (muttering) Even I don't think a company is willing to sign you and debut you the same year, let alone week." Her muttering went under their ears, replaced with shocked expressions to hear that she knows of their faces behind the disguises.

Jinu awkwardly chuckles, sort of amused by her bluntness, but is still heavily questioning how she knows this. "(chuckle) You have no fear in what we are, do you?" Leaning closer to her ear, his voice sending another nervous shiver through her body.

Taking a short breath in before leaning closer to his ear. "Why would I fear someone who doesn't hold such malice in his eyes."

The male had a thrilling shiver go up his spine. Not only from the proximity, but the words from her quiet melodic voice.

"I only see shame and guilt."

————————————————————

"WHERE DID (Y/N) GO?!"

"I DON'T KNOW?!"

The three girls were panicking upon coming out of the clinic, their box of tonics in hand. They were cheering about helping Rumi's voice, but stopped when they couldn't find their dear manager.

"Did anyone find where she went?"

"No?! We were inside for honmoon's sake!"

"Oh no! She might have been taken by demons! No she must be so lonely and-"

"What is going on?!"

Swerving their head around, they see (Y/N) with a confused face seeing their panicked state.

"My god...I thought you guys found a dead body or something. There is no need to yell for me, you don't want to be attracting ANY attention. Right?"

Her firm strict tone being a quick reminder of what role (Y/N) has played ever since their debut. A more strict version of Bobby with her hands in the creative process. Even when she wasn't fully comfortable with the girls yet, she still managed to steer them in the right direction when avoiding scandals and demos for songs.

"Y-Yeah...sorry (N/n)." Zoey frowns apologetically.

Sighing to herself like her mother usually does when she breaks a vase.

"You guys are the ones that said you wanted to stay out of sight." Her muttering causes guilty expressions to pull on the girls. "Don't worry about that now. I should be sorry as well, considering I just walked away without an explanation." Forgiving the girls for this is easier than letting it drag on more.

Rumi and Mira were about to provide an explanation for their panic, but their ears were picking up the faint sound of an instrumental beginning to play in the background.

"Wait. What is that?"

Rumi's question urges the girls to pop their heads out of the alleyway. Only to see a strange pink smoke beginning to form near the centre of the busy area. The backing instruments sounding positive and bubbly as it went on.

Adjusting their disguises, they make their way towards the commotion.

"Hey, hey"

"Hey, hey"

"Hey"

Five silhouettes can be made out in the smoke, all striking poses before the pink suddenly disappears to reveal the performers.

"Don't want you, need you"

"Yeah, I need you to fill me up"

"Masigo masyeo bwado"

"Seonge chaji ana"

"Got a feeling that, oh, yeah (Yeah)"

"You could be everything that"

"That I need (Need), taste so sweet (Sweet)"

"Every sip makes me want more, yeah"

"Its those stupid jerks again!" Rumi exclaims. "Wait. You know those guys?" (Y/N)'s confusion evident but is ignored by the sheer number of people gathering around.

"These guys are a boy band?" Another question Rumi exclaims. Irritation growing in her more.

"Lookin like snacks 'cause you got it like that (Woo)"

"Take a big bite, want another bite, yeah"

"Neoui modeun geol nan wonhae, wonhae, wonhae"

"Neo malgon modu pyeonhae, pyeonhae, pyeonhae"

"Whеn you're in my arms, I hold you so tight (So tight)"

"Can't let go, no, no, not tonight"

"That jerk stole one of my pouches!" Recounting her tonics upon seeing Jinu drinking one.

(Y/N) deciding to question later why Jinu decided to intentionally or not, magically send back an ahjumma with a hip thrust.

"Jigeum dangjang nal bwa sigan еopjana"

"Neon naekkeoya imi algo itjana"

"'Cause I need you to need me"

"I'm empty, you feed me so refreshing"

'A drop?'

"My little soda pop"

"You're all I can think of"

"Every drop I drink up"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop"

"Cool me down, you're so hot"

"Pour me up, I won't stop"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop"

The chorus infectiously going around the crowd with shoulder movements galore. Bopping their bodies to the earworm worthy song. Not even Zoey or (Y/N) were immune to the rhythm.

As much as Rumi and Mira glare for them to stop, their bodies couldn't deny the contagious beat.

"It is annoyingly catchy, though."

"Its infectious."

Romance and Baby Saja sending out kisses of hearts into the ground, physically knocking out those hit.

"They can make hearts out of thin air?" Mira's questions go unanswered, but (Y/N) can think of ways to reply.

But reflecting in the sunlight, catching the hunters eyes, was the faint purple patterns running through their arms and the hint of gold in their dreamy irises.

"(Gasp) They're demons!"

"Magicians! Demons. Obviously demons."

"My little soda pop"

"Uh, make me wanna flip the top"

"Han mogeume you hit the spot"

"Every little drip and drop, fizz and pop, ah"

"Soreum doda it's gettin' hot"

"Yes, I'm sippin' when it's drippin' now"

"It's done? I need a second round"

"And pour a lot and don't you stop"

"'Til my soda pop fizzles out"

"Dang they're good."

"Incredible. But a demon boy band? Why?"

"I don't care. A demon's a demon. We kill them." Rumi and (Y/N) stops Mira before anything can happen.

"No, its too public."

"Do you want everyone to grill us into being cancelled?"

"What if they try to kill these people?" Mira's reasoning is valid from her perspective. But everything around them says otherwise.

"It doesn't look like they're gonna hurt anyone." Zoey's observation being noted by (Y/N), seeing as the five boys helping out a few people struggling with little things.

"Kkum soge geuryeowatdeon neo"

"Nan jeoldae nochil su eopseo"

"Neol wonhae kkok"

"I waited so long for a taste of soda"

"So, the wait is over, baby"

"Come and fill me up"

"Just can't get enough"

"Oh"

"In fact, it almost seems like they're nice demons?"

"Demons are never nice!"

Seeing the girls rush over to destroy the very things the demons touched. Panic washing over with her usual professionalism masking it. Purchasing another hotdog for the girl with the right amount of sauce and giving the children smaller gifts in replacement for the destroyed ones, giving them all a soft smile in comfort.

'Think before you act, girls.'

"You're all I can think of"

"Every drop I drink up"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop (Yeah, yeah)"

"Cool me down, you're so hot"

"Pour me up, I won't stop (Oh, oh)"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop"

The sudden appearance of a stage large soba can was a choice, in (Y/N)'s opinion. But the wave of pastels and illusionary magic is what set her off.

Pushing her way through the crowd to catch up with the girls, she found her way near the front.

'I see what's going on...'

"Ooh, ooh"

"Ooh, ooh"

"You're my soda pop"

"Gotta drink every drop"

Striking their ending poses, Jinu looks down at the crowd, meeting the (f/c) and gold gaze with his brown ones. Smiling softly at her before diverting his attention.

"That's it for now. See you tonight on everyone's favourite variety show. Saja Boys love you!"

The demon boy band disappearing in a puff of smoke.

The three hunters grew more irritated at the easy work the demons have accomplished by just performing once! Determined to end this boy band as fast as possible.

(Y/N) on the other hand had other thoughts.

'Well then, if you want to play like this Jinu, I hope you know what's coming for you.'

*Ding*

Her phone vibrated with the indication of a text message. Opening up her messages to see the new text, reading made a small sigh release from her mouth.

Jinu: Hey (Y/N), lets meet up tonight. I'll meet you at the place we met.

————————————————————

Edit: I took a break and I managed to fall down into my Record of Ragnarok phase again whilst also watching the new Superman movie (really good I recommend). Also if anyone wants to be tagged, pls ask in the recent parts bc it just makes the list a lot easier to find and compile.

Tags: @kitsune-05, @the-bookish-artist, @apelepikozume, @shoopershtar, @ravvilicous, @valeriele3, @vikc, @lasa27, @chipster-321, @greensunflowerjuna, @napbatata, @that-one-girl2020, @tagmepls, @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant, @minepugs, @crescent-z, @colorfulgardenerduck, @poem-bee, @deityofprocastinating, @0-undead-0, @gremlinartstudio, @jessica-mcd, @strayharmony943, @fruityg0rl, @cherryblossomfox, @aominehaven, @kyxmlii, @ssaischilling, @sweaterkitty-fluff, @historygeekqueen, @satansdaughter123, @theall-seeingone, @nvmkyuu, @amenabii, @julianne1024, @doggyteam2028, @nisarelle, @theall-seeingone, @hi-itsmee28, @celesteelysia, @maritheillusion, @levifiance, @kangsae-byeokfan, @hornehlittleweeblet12, @scara-simp69, @fancyhawk45, @shqyou, @enerofairy, @futuristicdefendorfart, @scentwombatarcade, @eliengoddes, @irethepotato, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @jessica-mcd, @koda-lupinn, @yoursleeparalysisdem0n, @tsukimoon-chan, @ityourguy, @elaemae, @neverending-animelove, @type-ink, @pandafuriousa60, @mazzk1ng, @theall-seeingone, @rorotvt2025

[imnotjustreadingg]

tell me again tomorrow

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader (y/n) Genre: Fluff - drunk talking - friends to lovers - alcohol mention Word count: 1836 Summary: Y/N, almost ready to sleep receive the visit of her favourite and drunk super soldier

You were already in your pajamas, curled up on the couch with a book, when someone knocked at your door. Not once, not twice but four impatient, slightly uncoordinated knocks. You sighed and set the book down. It was nearly 2 a.m.

Sam, forgetting the time of the meeting in the morning? Or maybe Steve bringing leftovers? You certainly didn’t expect what was standing in the corridor.

“Hi,” Bucky grinned. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a bit damp from the summer drizzle outside. His shirt was rumpled, and he was swaying slightly.

“…Bucky?” He blinked slowly, clearly trying to keep his balance. From behind him, Steve peeked into view, supporting him from one side. “He insisted we bring him here.” Sam, standing on Bucky’s other side, looked equally amused and tired. “Refused to go back to his room. Said, and I quote, ‘Take me to the pretty girl’, we assumed you were the pretty girl.”

Your heart thumped. “What?”

“He’s hammered,” Steve said, giving Bucky a pat. Bucky, Steve, Sam and Tony spent the night in the common room, drinking Thor’s liquor. He did drop casually a bottle and then returned home to Asgard. “But we figured you were the safest option. You’re good with him.”

You blinked. “You couldn’t have just taken him to his room and let him sleep it off? It’s just a floor ahead.”

“Oh, we tried. He tried climbing out of the window.” Bucky grinned again. “You’re really pretty, did you know that?”

“Okay,” you said, stepping aside quickly.  Once they’d deposited the super soldier onto your couch, the two of them made a quick exit, exchanging matching smiles as they left. “I like your room,” Bucky declared as he slowly tilted his head back against the cushions.  “Every room looked the same, Buck.” You told him.

“But yours better, smells like cinnamon.” You crossed your arms, studying him. “You smell like whiskey.”

“Not whiskey, doll.” he said proudly. “Asgardian’s liquor” he replied strangely calm. 

You grabbed him a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin, then sat beside him. “You okay?”

“I missed you tonight,” he said simply, taking the glass and sipping it with both hands like it was precious. “Everyone was loud. No one laughed at my joke.” You blinked.

“You’re the best,” he said, and then suddenly fell very quiet. “You really are.” His eyes found yours in that quiet way that always got under your skin. like he was memorizing you, piece by piece. You’d seen that look before. A handful of times. But you’d always brushed it off, afraid to believe it meant what you wanted it to mean.

Not tonight. Tonight, there were no walls. No shadows. No avengers left drunk in the common room. Just the flushed face of the man you’d loved longer than you wanted to admit, sitting drunk and soft on your couch with a truth hanging off his lips. “I have to tell you something,” he said slowly, seriously. “But you can’t laugh.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I think I’m in love with you.” Your breath hitched.

“I know I’m drunk,” he added quickly. “But that doesn’t make it not real. I just- God, I’ve been trying to say it for months. You’re my favorite part of the day. You’re the only person I think about when things go quiet. I see you laugh, and I forget how bad the world can be. I see you cry and I wanna burn down everything that hurts you. I hear your voice, and I sleep better.”

“Bucky-”

“I mean it,” he insisted, leaning forward unsteadily. “You’re so… you. You never treat me like I’m broken. You call me out when I’m brooding too hard. You make me read books with happy endings and now I actually want one.” Your heart was thudding so hard it hurt.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I really love you.”

He looked at you with such raw, wide-eyed sincerity that it made your chest ache. And God, you loved him too. So much. So deeply. You had for a long time. And hearing him say those words felt like a key turning in a lock you’d been pressing your hand against for years. But he was drunk, super soldier or not. His eyes were a little too glassy. His speech was a little too slurred, but still calm. And though his heart was clearly honest, his brain would need reminding in the morning. So, you smiled softly and touched his arm.

“Okay,” you said gently.

“Okay?” he echoed. You brushed a few strands of damp hair off his forehead. “I believe you. But I want to hear it again when you’re sober.” He blinked. “You do?”

You nodded. “If you still feel that way in the morning, tell me again. Then I’ll tell you something too.” He stared at you like you’d just offered him the moon.

“…Okay,” he said finally. “I can do that.” You helped him lie down on the couch and grabbed the spare blanket from the basket near your bookshelf. He reached for your hand as you tucked it around him.

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m just in bed, there.” He frowned, eyes already closing. “Can I dream about you?”

“If you want.” He smiled, soft and content and drifted off, still holding your hand lightly between his fingers.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

The next morning, you found him sitting up on the couch, hair a mess, blanket sliding off one shoulder, eyes wide and horrified. “Oh my God,” Bucky muttered.

“Morning,” you said, holding out a cup of coffee from the kitchen. Fortunately, you didn’t catch any other Avengers, so you quickly took a cup of coffee and returned to your room. Part of you wanted not to see Bucky in your room. He took it like it might have saved his life.

“Please tell me I didn’t confess my undying love last night.” You sit on your bed, raising a brow. “Which part? The love confession, the joke no one laughed about, or asking my permission to dream about me?” He groaned, burying his face in the mug. “All of it was real?”

“I fear yes,” you said with a smirk. He exhaled hard. “I didn’t mean to just…ambush you like that.”

“I know,” you said. “That’s why I waited. You said some pretty big things. I figured you might want a redo… if you meant them.” He looked up at you slowly.

“Do you?”

Bucky set down the mug. Then, without hesitation, he stood, stepped over to you, and gently cupped your cheek sitting on your bed.

“I meant every word,” he said. “And I’ll say it again every morning, if you want.” Your heart melted. “Once a day should do.” You reached for him, pulled him into a soft, slow kiss that felt like everything you’d both been waiting for. When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered:

“So… you love me too?”

“I do.”

“I’m never drinking Thor’s liquor again,” he muttered. “But I’m also really glad I did.”

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

The compound kitchen was unusually lively for a Saturday morning. Bucky reluctantly got back into his room for a shower, not after kissing you again. Steve was sipping his coffee like he hadn’t gotten two hours of sleep. Sam was grinning ear to ear, borderline vibrating. Natasha sat perched on the counter with a smug smile. Tony was scrolling on his tablet smirking. You walked in, feigning indifference and nonchalant. You were perfectly aware of the incoming roast. Then Bucky walked in. Freshly showered. Hair still damp, black T-shirt and looking suspiciously well-rested for someone who’d made a fool of himself the night before. Handsome than ever.  He paused the second he stepped into the room. Everyone turned toward him at once, then looked at you. You prepared yourself.

Steve raised his cup in greeting. “Morning, Romeo.”

Bucky groaned. “Oh, no.” Sam slapped the counter. “Oh YES. Yes, Barnes. Don’t even THINK about pretending you forgot what you did last night.”

“I was drunk.” He justified himself.

“Exactly,” Natasha said, voice like silk and sharp glass. “Which makes it funnier.” Tony finally looked up. “So. Just to recap: you climbed out a window, hijacked your best friends as chauffeurs to her room showing up at Y/N’s room at 2 a.m., and dramatically professed your love.”

“…I didn’t climb out a window.”

“… he didn’t dramatically profess his love,” you said sipping your coffee. Steve raised a hand. “I can confirm. You very much did. I was there. You almost fell into a bush.”

“I wanted to tell her,” Bucky muttered, going straight for the fridge and grabbing orange juice like it might protect him from the mockery. He brushed past you, kissing your head. The room erupted.

“Look how cute they are! Y/N’s blushing!” Nat said. It was indeed right, you were blushing. Sam cut in, clearing his throat theatrically “You said, and I quote, ‘Take me to her. She smells like happiness and paperback books.’”

Bucky choked on his juice. “I said what?!”

“I smell like happiness and paperback books?” you asked him, once he sat near you. Sam burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, loverboy, Steve and I only reenacted it twice.”

“I’ll pay you to never bring this up again,” Bucky muttered, face turning red. “Yes, you do doll”. He whispered at your ear. 

“Oh, but we’re just getting started,” Tony grinned. “Now, Y/N… tell us did he recites poetry? Swear his sword to your name? Get down on one knee and ask her to bear your vibranium children?”

“I hate all of you.” Bucky said. “She let you sleep on the couch, right?” Nat asked, tilting her head. “Did you cuddle the throw pillow like it was her?” Bucky covered his face. “Stop.”

“Well damn,” Sam said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You really did it.” Natasha narrowed her eyes. “So… you two are a thing now?” Bucky shrugged. “We haven’t exactly labeled it, but we are.” He said quietly. “We are, right?” he told to you.

“Hell, yeah we are” you answered back, and Bucky gave you a long look as you leaned up kissing his cheek, smiling far too sweetly. “You’re all terrible,” he mumbled. Y/N just slipped her hand into his under the table. “I think it’s adorable,” she whispered. He squeezed her fingers. “You would.” Tony clapped his hands. “Alright, team. Operation: Tease the Hell Out of Barnes is officially a success. Let’s give the lovebirds some space before they start making heart eyes again.”

“Too late,” Sam muttered. Natasha just rolled her eyes and grabbed a muffin. “At least if they start dating officially, he’ll stop brooding around like a Victorian poet.”

“No promises,” Bucky called, still flushed but smiling now.  Because somehow, despite the relentless teasing, despite the embarrassment, even though Sam was now humming a love ballad in the background, he was holding your hand. And for the first time in a long time… everything felt exactly right.

[keets-writing-corner]

I saw a post recently talking about how the pro AI-art people don't actually want to learn how to do art, they just want free art without paying a commission, and honestly I don't know what's more frustrating

them trying to paint AI art like this whole-y good thing and that artists are the bad guys/grandpas stuck in the past or whatever, or if it's the fact that it's not about art at all and that they just want free art and no matter how much explaining or resource "how to learn how to make art" throwing at them is going to make them stop wanting free art that they don't want to make themselves

and on a side note, I could be wrong, BUT, I don't think I've actually heard of a disabled person actually making the argument that AI art makes art more accessible. And what if you stopped being able to make art because you became disabled, would AI really fill that void? Again, I could be wrong, but I don't think I've ever seen someone who's disabled make this argument, only the AI bros trying to make it "progressive woke" (for lack of a better terminology)

As someone who thinks that the point of art is making it, no, AI doesn't make art accessible because you're NOT EVEN THE ONE THAT'S MAKING IT. You're asking a machine to compile stolen art to form an image that that YOU don't want to pay another artist to do. The only thing it's made more accessible is the theft and somehow convinced you that it's okay/better

and onto my second point that I want to add that I just never see people talking about:

Maybe MAYBE there's a person out there who resorted to using AI art because they tried to learn art and it just didn't work out no matter how many mediums, programs, books or free tutorials they tried, here is my tip for you: THOSE RESOURCES MEAN NOTHING UNTIL YOU FIGURE OUT WHAT MAKES ART FUN FOR YOU

I love drawing animals. I draw animals for fun. I'm now learning how to draw people and other things (like landscapes). I learned drawing fundamentals AFTER I had started drawing animals for fun because I wanted to get better at drawing animals

I'm not saying the fundamentals aren't important and I'm not saying the art books and tutorials aren't helpful. But if you've tried to draw over and over and just never continued because it just felt like practicing/homework, then of course nothing stuck! You think artists only draw final products that they want to see?? No! It's FUN it's supposed to be FUN. There's a reason artists go into crisis or whatever when depression or mental health hits and suddenly art isn't fun anymore and we desperately wish it was and then all of a sudden we got art block because brain no want to do what is no fun.

If you want to get into drawing, FIGURE OUT WHAT IS FUN AND SATISFYING FOR YOU TO DRAW

I do not care if you want to learn how to draw characters, if that's not fun for you it's not going to stick. I gave this advice to my writer friend, and he discovered he loves drawing architecture. He draws that for fun, and now he's starting to branch out

I'm not saying it'll be easy. I myself do not know what the process of discovering what you like making art of is because all I remember is some sort of flip in my brain switched when I was like 6 and I just wanted to draw horses all the time and doing that was fun

But THAT IS THE SECRET okay? I know we artists jokingly complain about drawing all the time and that we hate it, but the truth is, it came from a place of love, of fun. That's why we doodle, that's why most of the things we sketch never become full pieces, it's because they were never meant to become full pieces. They were for fun. Pro AI people thinks it's only about the end product and creating what it's your head. Both of those things are important and motivators at times, but they are not what got us started and they are not what kept us going. They will not be what keeps you going if you decide to pick up art

Can't afford art school?

After seeing post like this 👇

And this gem 👇

As well as countless of others from the AI generator community. Just talking about how "inaccessible art" is, I decided why not show how wrong these guys are while also helping anyone who actually wants to learn.

Here is the first one ART TEACHERS! There are plenty online and in places like youtube.

📺Here is my list:

Proko (Free)

Marc Brunet (Free but he does have other classes for a cheap price. Use to work for Blizzard)

Aaron Rutten (free)

BoroCG (free)

Jesse J. Jones (free, talks about animating)

Jesus Conde (free)

Mohammed Agbadi (free, he gives some advice in some videos and talks about art)

Ross Draws (free, he does have other classes for a good price)

SamDoesArts (free, gives good advice and critiques)

Drawfee Show (free, they do give some good advice and great inspiration)

The Art of Aaron Blaise ( useful tips for digital art and animation. Was an animator for Disney)

Bobby Chiu ( useful tips and interviews with artist who are in the industry or making a living as artist)

Second part BOOKS, I have collected some books that have helped me and might help others.

📚Here is my list:

The "how to draw manga" series produced by Graphic-sha. These are for manga artist but they give great advice and information.

"Creating characters with personality" by Tom Bancroft. A great book that can help not just people who draw cartoons but also realistic ones. As it helps you with facial ques and how to make a character interesting.

"Albinus on anatomy" by Robert Beverly Hale and Terence Coyle. Great book to help someone learn basic anatomy.

"Artistic Anatomy" by Dr. Paul Richer and Robert Beverly Hale. A good book if you want to go further in-depth with anatomy.

"Directing the story" by Francis Glebas. A good book if you want to Story board or make comics.

"Animal Anatomy for Artists" by Eliot Goldfinger. A good book for if you want to draw animals or creatures.

"Constructive Anatomy: with almost 500 illustrations" by George B. Bridgman. A great book to help you block out shadows in your figures and see them in a more 3 diamantine way.

"Dynamic Anatomy: Revised and expand" by Burne Hogarth. A book that shows how to block out shapes and easily understand what you are looking out. When it comes to human subjects.

"An Atlas of animal anatomy for artist" by W. Ellenberger and H. Dittrich and H. Baum. This is another good one for people who want to draw animals or creatures.

Etherington Brothers, they make books and have a free blog with art tips.

As for Supplies, I recommend starting out cheap, buying Pencils and art paper at dollar tree or 5 below. For digital art, I recommend not starting with a screen art drawing tablet as they are more expensive.

For the Best art Tablet I recommend either Xp-pen, Bamboo or Huion. Some can range from about 40$ to the thousands.

💻As for art programs here is a list of Free to pay.

Clip Studio paint ( you can choose to pay once or sub and get updates)

Procreate ( pay once for $9.99)

Blender (for 3D modules/sculpting, ect Free)

PaintTool SAI (pay but has a 31 day free trail)

Krita (Free)

mypaint (free)

FireAlpaca (free)

Libresprite (free, for pixel art)

Those are the ones I can recall.

So do with this information as you will but as you can tell there are ways to learn how to become an artist, without breaking the bank. The only thing that might be stopping YOU from using any of these things, is YOU.

I have made time to learn to draw and many artist have too. Either in-between working two jobs or taking care of your family and a job or regular school and chores. YOU just have to take the time or use some time management, it really doesn't take long to practice for like an hour or less. YOU also don't have to do it every day, just once or three times a week is fine.

Hope this was helpful and have a great day.

[writteninthebinds]

Nsfw Joel Miller

I know we say there’s no way Joel Miller lived in Jackson for years and no one was bouncing on it, but hear me out.

What if he hadn’t been with anyone?

What if Joel was touch starved?

What if he visibly shakes from just your hands on his shoulders, his back, anywhere? The touches start off innocent. Just the casual brush due to a too small work space. You get greedy though. You like Joel, and every time you touch him, just barely and accidental as it is, at first, you start to crave it more and more.

What if the first time you kiss him, Joel thinks he’s actually died? You were close, leaning in as he goes over the instructions and layouts to the next build. Your eyes were never on the blueprints though. No. They were on Joel’s mouth, and he was none the wiser, and you apparently ate fuck it for breakfast that morning because you just lean in and kiss him. It’s nothing serious, just the press of your lips to his. Joel freezes nonetheless, blushing down to his toes in his boots. You try not to freak out, and when he finally stutters out the words, saying it’s okay, you giddily ask if you can do it again.

What if the first time you make out with him, curled up all pretty and breathless in his lap, he’s just as much of a mess? His dick gets painfully hard and thickens faster than it has in decades and it’s enough to make him dizzy. You don’t even get to really touch him because all it takes is your tongue in his mouth and the first little swivel of your hips, and he’s cumming in his pants.

What if touch starved Joel never ask for anything? He gets a little better about tiny gestures, like holding your hand or placing a hand on your hip. Those are things he does to you though.

What if he’s still too confused, too shocked that a beautiful young thing like you is looking at him, let alone touching him? That’s why it breaks his brain every time. Every time you do even the same stuff over and over. It never feels old. It really breaks him the first time you slip your hand down his pants, feeling the heated skin of his cock and balls. He cums embarrassingly fast and hard, and there’s so so much of it.

What if Joel whines for you? During everything you do together, yes, but afterwards too. He would mummer soft apologies about not lasting long. He always takes care of you too, gives you everything you need and more, but it bothers him. No matter how much he makes himself cum on his own to build his tolerance, it does next to nothing when it comes to you and when you touch him. You’d shush him, peppering kisses over his skin and scars and telling him just how wet it makes you to see him loose control because of you.

What if that’s only when Joel starts to get confident? After a while and after all the reassurance, which he still needs from time to time and you give it easily. It still rocks him to his core, still sends his tummy flipping when you tell him you wanna try something new, something dirty. Like the first time you ask to blow him, and then to ride him. The first time you ask him to eat your pussy, Joel’s belly down on the bed before you finish asking, and he finishes that night with his tongue inside you and his dick humping the covers.

What if touched starved Joel turns into a massive, pussy drunk and driven WHORE because of you? We all imagine that someone touch starved would stay touch starved, but…no. Maybe it takes a while, years even, but eventually you have this total horn-dog of a sexy older man pawing at you day and night, addicted to your taste and your orgasms because you trained him.

Fuuucck me.

[letsseewherethisis-going]

Where’s The Trophy? He Just Comes Running Over To Me - Lando Norris

Author’s note: this is super heavily inspired by “The Alchemy”, by Taylor Swift. I would suggest that you listen to it while reading this. Feedback is always welcome! And requests are open, too 🫶🏻

The car ride to Silverstone felt like it was never-ending. But you had finally made it through security and you were on your way to meet Lando’s friends, who were waiting for you. You never quite nervous and you tried to be as discreet as you could as a security guard was escorting you through the crowd. You hadn’t seen his friend group in weeks - actually, you hadn’t seen or talked to Lando in weeks either.

Right before he left for the Canadian Grand Prix, you had an argument because he snapped at you once again.

Lando put his foot in his mouth often, as most people know. He often said or did things without thinking twice, and regretted it almost immediately. You had warned him a few times that he couldn’t talk to you like that and you wouldn’t allow it any more.

And that one night he still did. And you told him you were done. You two had been in no contact ever since, until…

On Saturday afternoon, Max had called you right after the end of Qualifying. You hadn’t dared reaching out to him since your last conversation with Lando, in fear that it might be misinterpreted. So him calling you was a surprise. He was the one who said it would be a good thing if you could come see Lando at Silverstone.

“What makes you think that? He hasn’t even reached out since the last time I saw him,” you said, eyes furrowed as you were holding your phone to your ear.

“You have to promise that this stays between us. He’s been really down since the break up. Believe me, I know it would make him happy if you two could talk. This can’t be the end of your relationship, I know you care too much about each other,” he said with certainty.

He also talked about how Lando had just qualified P3, and it would mean a great deal to him if you were there supporting him for his home race.

If you were honest, you had been missing him and thinking about him a lot, but you drew the line before and he crossed it knowing damn well what the consequences were. You had warned him in the past.

You gave in and sent him a text once the call with Max was over

“Hi Lando, I hope you’re alright. I know it’s late notice, but I have to spend the next week in London for work. I thought maybe I could get to London tomorrow, and we could talk”

Nervous as can be, you put your phone away for a few minutes. What if despite what Max said, Lando was still mad at you and he didn’t want to see you?

Lando had just replied when you checked your phone, saying that he would love to see you at Silverstone. Since it was short notice, you didn’t have much options and you would only get to London during in the afternoon, meaning that you weren’t sure if you could make it on time for the race.

“Please come anyway. It’s okay if you don’t get to watch the race. I’d just like to talk. I’m sorry for what I said, I truly am,”

You had sent him a text once you arrived in London on Sunday afternoon, but he never answered so you thought he was already preparing for the race.

Now there you were, finally reunited with his friends. You said hello to everyone and watched the rest of the race with them. Your heart was beating like crazy the whole time, nervousness running through your entire body

“And Lando Norris wins the British Grand Prix at Silverstone!”

Everyone around you was ecstatic. Max directly turned to you and told you to join Lando near the podium, and after a moment of hesitation, you ran all the way there - the security guard from earlier following you. You made your way through the crowd until you got near the podium, and you almost hesitantly held onto the barricade. You watched Lando getting out of his car and then saw Cisca on your left at the barricade, waiving to you with a huge smile on her lips.

“He did it!!” she exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but smile too. You got along really well with her, she always made you feel welcome in her family. When you were traveling with Lando on race weekends, she always took care of you and made sure you felt comfortable and you had everything you needed. You had no idea if Lando told his parents about your breakup, but she didn’t seem upset with you and that’s all that mattered.

“Yes he did!!” you smiled as you felt your throat tightening and your eyes getting teary. Cisca turned to Adam to talk to him and you focused again on Lando, who was now hugging members of his team and being congratulated by everyone. He made his way towards Cisca with his helmet still on, and you started tearing up even more as you watched him have a moment with his mom. You knew how much his family meant to him and you could only imagine how happy they all were in that moment.

Lando got weighted, took off his helmet and mask, and went back towards his parents and the remaining members of the team. His mom pointed towards you and his face immediately lit up as he made his way to you, pulling you into a hug.

“I wanted to make you proud,” his voice cracked a little and he kissed your temple, quickly saying “I’m sorry for everything, I promise I’ll do better,” a couple tears ran down your face as you held him against you, feeling completely overwhelmed by the pride and love you felt for that man. Getting to hold him again made you feel… whole again.

Seeing him in front of you, celebrating his home win made you certain about one thing: Lando was the man that you loved, and you had never felt prouder of the man and the driver that he was. He wasn’t perfect, and his journey wasn’t the easiest one. But to you he was the best. He was resilient and brave, and he worked hard to achieve his dreams. His work ethic and his dedication were qualities that you truly admired.

“It doesn’t matter, we’ll talk later. This is your moment, Lando. You won Silverstone,” you insisted as if saying it out loud would make it feel real

Lando chuckled in disbelief and put his forehead against yours, taking it all in for a moment.

His hands cupped your face softly and he put his lips on yours, as if he needed it to ground himself in the middle of the craziness around him. Nothing else mattered in that moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world. You knew how much he sacrificed for his career in F1, you knew what it took for him to get to where he was in that moment.

You pulled away, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“They’re waiting for you. You should go, you Champion,”

His eyes were glassy and his lips curved into a smile. His gaze on you was soft and loving. He looked at peace and relieved, like he had been dreaming about this moment his whole life - and it finally happened.

His hand found yours and he kissed it quickly, and that’s when you remembered that you were still in the middle of a crowd and everyone had their eyes on you.

“I love you. I’ll see you later, baby,”

“I love you too,” you smiled and quickly wiped the tears off your cheeks.

Cisca looked at you tenderly and made a heart with her hands, which you directly did back to her, unable to stop smiling at that point.

That was pure happiness.

Pure love.

And the promise of a new beginning - together.

2020-2025 © letsseewherethisis-going - All rights reserved. Please do not repost, plagiarize or translate.

[narcjsistx]

please I have such a good request that I think is funny. After chapter 307, imagine Reader asks Sae if they can buy a pet bunny and he instantly tells her no, and she’s asking why not and he’s like “ No 😐🥀” but like, crack. It can be smau or fic I FEEL IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY THO

i usually don't make written fic requests, only smau ones, but this one really made me laugh. so here we are guys

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

it felt strange to have SAE ITOSHI at home for more than three days in a row — strange, but definitely pleasant. the spanish tour had just ended with great results, and that gave him the chance to finally relax a little, in the quiet of his home

it was nice to actually be able to hug him, and not just send a message he’d only read hours later in his hotel room. it was even nice just to spend time together in the same room, too

sae genuinely thought these days would be the best of the month — finally free to train only when he truly felt like it, and most of all, finally able to spend time with you after months of random flights for equally random, short-lived visits

he thought the days would pass by peacefully, with you

big mistake, sae itoshi.

"babe, can you watch the video i sent you?"

"okay. which one of the last... fortytwo?"

it wasn’t anything new to see that many videos waiting when he opened your chat. it was a habit you had since the very beginning of the relationship, and honestly, he didn’t mind it

"you’re not funny! it’s not fortytwo, c'mon..."

"fortysix."

"... just watch the last seven"

opening the chat, the number of bunnies that appears before his eyes is disgustingly disgusting. he sees all kinds: short fur, long fur, white, black, brown, long ears, short ears. his throat tightens almost automatically as he looks up — only to find you already standing in front of him with your phone in hand, with that face that, ever since you two got together, has never once been told no. he sighs bored, as you throw yourself down next to him on the couch, holding your phone right up to his face. instinctively he wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer — but he’d throw that bunny on your screen as far away from him as humanly possible

"look how cute it is! it’s looking for a home, it’s up for adoption at the center near our hom—"

"absolutely not."

you turn surprised, lowering the screen slightly. you press your lips together like you’ve just received the worst news of your life, and sae already regrets having answered so coldly. it’s just that he can’t understand how such a cute animal could have the name of a jerk — the ultimate jerk, the very ultimate jerk

"... you don’t like bunnies?"

oh, he’d definitely like them more if they didn’t remind him so much of that barcha jerk — so jumpy and damn tall. sae clears his throat, moving the screen away from his face

"i don’t like bunnies"

"why? they’re so innocent, they don’t need much attention, and im home most of the time anyway"

"i don’t like them because they’re messy, they smell, they pee everywhere, and they ruin dreams that have nothing to do with them—"

"... i don’t think they do that?"

sae raises an eyebrow, then runs a hand through his hair — just to calm himself down a little. you look at him with that look, the one that’s been his downfall for years now. suddenly, your face is replaced by iglesias’s, and for a moment, sae is completely speechless. only when your actual face comes back into view he let out a sigh of relief, a very long one

"i just don’t think it’s the right pet for us, considering my job and the fact that you want to start university. don’t you think maybe... i don’t know, a dog would be a better choice?"

"but i want a bunny"

"yeah, and i’d like to be a striker, but things don’t always go the way we want"

"i don’t see how that has anything to do with what i said..."

"im just telling you to listen to me, trust me. bunnies are evil"

you give him a bit of a look, then slump against his shoulder with a pout. sae starts running his fingers through your hair, fully aware that maybe — just maybe — he’s won this battle, a battle harder than the one against barcha a few months ago

"i already had a list of names ready"

sae sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. the gesture doesn’t quite erase your pout, but your eyebrows are furrowed just a little less. hearing the list can’t possibly cause another mental breakdown… right?

"alright, let’s hear it. what were you thinking?"

"OKAY SO… since we’re in spain, i thought of a spanish name. everyone gives their pets human names, but i want to stand out… with building names. i was thinking of… catedral, colegio, cine, estadio... maybe even tienda, iglesia—"

oh, no bunny will ever cross the threshold of this house as long as sae is alive. neither human nor animal

[heldbybarnes]

"please stop flirting while I hold your intestines in"

omg yes. this is such a bucky thing. that sassy shit!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings:

----------

Your hands are slick with blood—his blood—and you’re seconds away from either saving Bucky Barnes’s life or screaming into the void.

“Don’t die,” you grit, pressing gauze into the open wound in his side while trying to keep his intestines from spilling onto the dirt-covered floor of what used to be a market square. “Don’t even think about dying, Barnes.”

“I’m not dying,” Bucky slurs with a weak grin. “I’m just… enjoying the view.”

You don’t even look up. “If you flirt with me while I’m literally holding your intestines, I swear to God—”

“You say that like it’s not the sexiest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Bucky.”

“I’m serious. You’re hot when you’re bossy.” He winces but doesn’t stop. “And you’ve got very gentle hands. Real nurturing. Could see you raising chickens. Or small angry children.”

You finally look up at him, eyes blazing. “You’re bleeding out, and you’re thinking about chickens?”

“Trying to picture our future, doll.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief, but he takes the opportunity to lift one unsteady hand and brush your cheek with the back of his fingers, smearing blood across your skin. “You’ve got blood on your face. Makes you look… kinda feral.”

You slap his hand away. “Touch me again and I will let your intestines hit the floor.”

“That’s fair,” he wheezes, then lets out a groan. “Okay, maybe less flirting, more focus. What’s the sitrep, Doc?”

You press harder into the wound, ignoring the way his back arches in pain. “You’ve got a deep abdominal laceration, likely nicked your small intestine, maybe worse. I’m trying to hold things in until evac gets here.”

He groans. “So what you’re saying is…I’m full of shit.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, biting back a smile despite yourself.

“I’m serious. You’re in love with me, admit it.”

“I’m in love with not watching you die.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

You hear the distant whir of a quinjet overhead and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Evac’s here. You just have to stay alive for three more minutes.”

“Piece of cake,” he murmurs. “Except… instead of cake…my intestines are… in your hands.”

“Please stop saying intestines like it’s a love language.”

“I love the way you say 'mesentery' when you’re mad.”

The quinjet touches down in a roar of dust and wind. Medics rush over with a stretcher, and you help ease him onto it, keeping pressure on the wound with one hand, guiding the IV into his arm with the other.

“I’m not done with you,” Bucky mumbles as they start loading him in. “We still haven’t picked chicken names.”

You sigh. “One more word out of you, and I’m naming them all after your worst mission reports.”

He grins through the oxygen mask. “You do care.”

“I swear to God, Barnes, if you die on me, I’m going to bring you back just to kill you myself.”

The last thing you hear before the quinjet doors close is his muffled voice: “Mrs. Barnes has a nice ring to it.”

You shake your head, stained with blood, heart pounding in your chest—half from panic, half from the impossible man who just won’t shut up.

God help you.

You might actually be in love with him too.

[dakusan]

K e e p y o u r e y e o n t h e b a l l — n o , n o t m e .

Kim Seungmin x Reader | summer tension, casual bullying, accidental kiss, no one talks about it

⚾Synopsis: You’ve been best friends with Kim Seungmin long enough to survive his dry sarcasm, brutal honesty, and aggressively passionate love for the Giants. But when a summer afternoon spirals into an impromptu baseball lesson, things start to feel... different. You can’t swing to save your life. He can’t seem to stop smiling at you. Between missed pitches, bad jokes, and one very accidental kiss, something shifts. Neither of you says anything about it. But maybe it’s time to stop pretending you’re just playing around.

💌a/n: THIS WAS REQUESTED BY 🐈 ANON. i really hope you like itttttt !!!!! 😭😭 this was supposed to be light fluff and then it became “he catches you mid-fall and almost confesses with his eyes” and honestly?? worth it. summer baseball bestie chaos supremacy. thank you for reading ily <3 p.s. reblogs feed my delulu and your support keeps this bat-swinging loser going p.p.s. if you want a part 2 where someone finally cracks and kisses for real, you know what to do 👀

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers

🎧 » Love me or Leave Me — DAY6 « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:43 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

You and Seungmin have been best friends since the first year of university—bonded over a shared love of sarcastic comebacks, matching dark academia pens, and the mutual hatred of your professor's existence.

Somewhere between project deadlines and late-night ramen runs, the friendship just... stuck. He became the person who knew your order before you said it, who memorized your fake laugh vs your real one. You became the person who knew when he needed space and when he needed someone to sit in that space, quietly, next to him.

And yes, you’ve had fights. He still won’t forgive you for liking the wrong baseball team.

“Wrong” being... anyone but the Giants.

You wore a cap from their rival team once to school—on purpose—and he refused to look at you the entire day. Wouldn’t even speak to you in third period.

Now, it’s summer. Classes and exams are over. You’re sprawled across the sunlit steps of a neighbourhood café, sipping iced coffee when you say it.

“Okay, don’t laugh, but... I’ve never actually played baseball.”

You meant it casually. Offhand. But his head turns so fast you wonder if he gave himself whiplash.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Not even in PE? Not even wiffle ball?”

“Not even tee-ball,” you say, grinning. “Are you judging me right now?”

“Absolutely.”

A pause. Then, almost too quickly to seem normal, he says, “Wanna learn?”

You blink at him. “Right now?”

He shrugs. “I’ve got a glove and a bat at home. The field’s, like, two blocks from here. Unless you’re scared.”

“Oh, please. I’m gonna smoke you.”

That gets a scoff. “You don’t even know how to hold a bat.”

“Teach me, then, Coach Kim.”

His mouth quirks. You pretend not to see the way he fights a smile. You always pretend.

Twenty minutes later, the sun’s hanging just low enough to stretch gold across the field. The grass is uneven in places, broken up by dirt patches and lazy summer bugs. A warm breeze skims your skin.

Seungmin stands by the first base line, glove slung over one shoulder, bat in the other. He’s in a sleeveless tee, hair swept up by the wind, and when you walk up wearing his least favourite team’s logo across your chest, he stops mid-step.

“You did not.”

You grin. “What? I figured I’d dress for war.”

“That’s not war,” he mutters. “That’s betrayal.”

“Bold of you to assume I was ever on your side.”

“Oh, you’ll be begging to switch sides once you see how bad you are.”

He tosses you the glove. You catch it with a bit too much flair, which only makes his eyes narrow. “Don’t embarrass me out here, rookie.”

“Who said I’m here for you, Giants boy?”

He rolls his eyes, spins the bat once in his palm, and says it without thinking: “You’re lucky I like you.”

You freeze. He does, too. But then he’s already walking away, toward the pitcher’s mound, calling over his shoulder: “Let’s go, traitor.”

“You really weren’t kidding,” Seungmin says, watching you hold the bat like it personally offended you.

You blink at him. “I am holding it right.”

“No, you’re holding it like it’s a lightsaber.”

“Oh come on, like you wouldn’t join the rebellion.”

He groans. “Okay. That’s it. Give me your hands.”

You expect him to just point. Maybe mimic the movement. What you don’t expect is for him to step in behind you, one arm reaching around your waist, the other curling gently over your hand on the bat.

He’s right there. Not just close—there. You can feel the heat of his chest at your back, the steady rhythm of his breath brushing your temple. One of his hands lightly adjusts your fingers, the other—hesitating for just a second—guides your shoulder into place.

“This is… okay,” he mutters, voice lower now. “Hands stacked. Elbows up. And, um, feet—hold on—”

He shifts one of your feet with his, nudging the side of your sneaker. Your brain has officially stopped functioning. So has his. Because the second he realizes how small your hand is in his, how soft your skin is, how your hair smells like you, he’s absolutely panicking. On the inside. Outside, he’s keeping it together with a perfectly blank expression, but inside?

💥🔥🚨 INTERNAL MELTDOWN 🚨🔥💥

“Okay…” he murmurs, swallowing. “Now just… swing smooth. Like—wait, I’ll show you.”

He moves with you, hips ghosting behind yours, arms guiding your follow-through. His breath stutters just slightly when your back presses against his chest.

You say nothing, just glance over your shoulder—right into his face.

He’s already looking at you. Eyes soft. A little wide.

You’re both suddenly, violently aware of how close your mouths are. You shift a little. So does he.

“Seungmin,” you whisper.

He blinks, like snapping out of a spell. Steps back so fast he nearly stumbles. “You’ve—uh. Got the form now. You’re good.” He clears his throat. “Like. Fine. Whatever.”

You lower the bat, heart thudding. “Did I pass basic training?”

He won’t look at you. “Barely.”

But you catch the flush on his ears and narrow your eyes watching him as you twirl the bat lazily in your hands, pretending not to feel the way your pulse is still echoing in your throat.

Seungmin, meanwhile, looks like he’s trying to reformat his brain in real-time. His voice is flat when he says, “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You square up again, wiggling your fingers dramatically. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

He snorts. “You look like you’re about to summon a Pokémon.”

“Don’t mock me, Coach Kim.”

“Then stop acting like I dragged you here against your will. You volunteered for this.”

“I volunteered to learn,” you shoot back. “Not to be emotionally violated in the form of public athletic humiliation.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Big words for someone who’s about to miss five pitches in a row.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

He jogs to the mound and lines up. You catch him biting the inside of his cheek as he stares you down like he’s trying really hard not to smile. Or combust.

He throws an underhand toss. You swing.

Miss.

“Okay, that one was a practice round—”

“Sure it was.”

“Again!”

Second toss. Swing.

Air.

He blinks. “You might be the worst person I’ve ever seen hold a bat.”

“Say that again and I’ll throw it at you.”

“You’d miss.”

You glare. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The words fly out before you can stop them. His entire face glitches. “Sorry—what?” he calls, hand cupped to his ear, pure evil in his grin. “Didn’t hear that.”

“I said you’re rude!”

“Not what it sounded like—”

“Just pitch, Giants boy!!”

He throws another. You hit the ball this time, barely. It rolls weakly toward the pitcher’s mound. Seungmin watches it. Then looks back at you, utterly unimpressed. “That was so sad I think the bat cried.”

“Shut up—”

You charge him. You don’t mean to. But the embarrassment burns so bad, you sprint forward to hit him with the glove—just once—just enough to wipe the smug look off his stupid beautiful face.

He dodges. Barely. Grabs your wrist before you can swing again. And you both freeze. Your chest heaves. His fingers are around your wrist light but firm. You’re closer than you thought you’d get.

Again.

“You’re kind of a menace,” he murmurs.

You raise an eyebrow. “You like it.”

He doesn’t let go. “Maybe I do.”

And suddenly it’s not a joke anymore. It’s that moment again. Too close. Too quiet. Too something. But this time, you’re the one who pulls back first. “Still hate the Giants,” you say, tossing your glove up and catching it again, acting cool. “And your pitch sucks.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

“Oh, I already do.”

“Alright, traitor. Bat up. Let’s go again.”

You plant your feet. Raise the bat. Narrow your eyes like you’re staring down a final boss.

Seungmin is unimpressed. “You look like a gremlin trying to lift Thor’s hammer.”

You flip him off with one hand. “Shut it.”

“Not even in the ballpark of intimidating.”

“That’s funny, coming from someone who looks like he skipped leg day for the past four years.”

“Excuse me?” he gasps, hand to chest like you mortally wounded him. “You take that back.”

“Make me.”

He blinks. Then smirks. “Okay.”

He pitches. You swing. You spin in a full 360 and almost fall over.

“OH MY GOD,” Seungmin shouts from the mound, cackling. “YOU SPUN LIKE A BEYBLADE—”

“I slipped!!”

“You whiffed the air like it owed you money!!”

You glare at him as you steady yourself. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Correction: I’m the only reason you haven’t knocked yourself unconscious with that bat.”

“I could knock you unconscious.”

He shrugs. “Try it. I’ll add it to your record of great achievements in failure.”

You make a face. “Wow. You really flirt like this, huh?”

That shuts him up. Only for a second.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he deadpans, walking toward you with a smirk he absolutely did not earn. “This is how I treat all my hopeless causes.”

“Excuse me!?”

“I mean—at this point, we’re not even training. We’re surviving.”

You toss the bat at him. He catches it one-handed, casually. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “You’ve got the coordination of a baby deer.”

“Do not bring Bambi into this.”

He points the bat at you. “Bambi could out-swing you.”

“Seungmin.”

“I’m just saying—”

You run at him. He yelps, full squeaky scream, and takes off around the bases. You chase him halfway to third before giving up, winded, doubled over from laughing too hard.

He walks back, smug and victorious. “That’s the most cardio you’ve done all year.”

“Shut up, I’m gonna puke.”

“Should I write that on your jersey?”

You flip him off again. He just grins. And—god help you—so do you. But then, even as you are panting, you reach over and snatch the bat out of his hands, staring him down. “I wanna try again.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Even after what just happened?”

You glare. “That doesn’t count.”

He walks a slow circle around you, chin in hand like a judgmental game show host. “Mm. I don’t know. Pretty sure we all witnessed it.”

You point the bat at him. “Seungmin.”

He smirks. “Fine. Try again. For the fans.”

You scowl. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” he sings.

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t launch into orbit. He lobs the ball underhand. You swing. Miss. Again.

You turn to him slowly. “Okay. That was—warm up.”

He looks absolutely pained. “I thought you had your warm up.”

You stomp your foot. “Let me go again!!”

Another toss. Another miss.

“You’re… honestly…” he squints, lips twitching, “...kind of iconic for how bad this is.”

You drop the bat to your side, shoulders slumping. “I swear I’m trying,” you say dramatically, pouting. “This is humiliating. I feel like a clown.”

“You’re not a clown,” he says gently.

You blink.

“You’re the whole circus.”

“SEUNGMIN!”

He laughs, hands on his knees, nearly doubled over. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry—I just—your face!!”

You try to tackle him again but your limbs are too weak from giggling, and he easily sidesteps you.

“You’re evil,” you mutter.

“I’m honest.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m your best friend.”

And that, somehow, is the worst part. Because it’s true. Because he is. And you’re still standing there, clutching the bat like it might protect you from how warm he makes you feel.

He steps closer.

You raise your chin. “Fine. One more try. And if I miss again, I’m going home.”

He squints. “Swear?”

You nod solemnly. “Swear.”

He holds out a pinky. You stare. “Dead serious,” he says. “Baseball oath.”

You roll your eyes but loop your pinky around his anyway. “Baseball oath.”

He lets go of your pinky slowly, like it’s something delicate before speaking again. “Alright,” Seungmin says, backing up to the mound. “One more.”

You take a breath. Square your shoulders. Raise the bat.

He watches you with this half-soft, half-smug look on his face—like he’s proud and exasperated at the same time. “Don’t close your eyes this time,” he calls.

“I didn’t—”

“You did, like, two swings ago. Fully flinched like I threw a grenade.”

You grip the bat tighter. “Swear to god, if I hit this, I’m aiming for your face.”

He grins. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried.”

He throws the ball. You swing.

CRACK.

The ball flies. Not far, not pretty—but far enough to count.

You gasp. “OH MY GOD—”

Your body spins with the motion—off-balance, dizzy with adrenaline—and suddenly your foot catches on the dirt. You're stumbling. Tilting sideways. Falling. But Seungmin’s already running. He catches you around the waist just before you hit the ground, arms wrapped tight, pulling you up into him with a soft thud.

Chest to chest. Breathless. Too close.

You blink up at him. He’s already looking at you. His hands still on your waist. Yours braced against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering.

“I—” you start, but the words get tangled in the heat between you.

His gaze drops to your lips. Yours do the same. And without thinking—without meaning to—you lean in. Just a little. Just enough. And so does he. Your lips brush. Barely. A whisper of a kiss. A blink, a breath—then gone.

You both freeze. Wide-eyed. Neither of you moves. The sun dips a little lower. The air goes still.

You open your mouth. He lets go like he’s been burned. “Uh—y-you… you hit the ball,” he says, stumbling a step back. His voice cracks. “That was—good. I mean—you almost died, but still.”

Your cheeks burn. “Thanks, I think?”

He’s staring anywhere but at you. The bleachers, the sky, the base behind you.

You rub the back of your neck, trying not to combust. “So. Um. Did that count as first base, or—?”

Seungmin chokes on nothing. “WHAT—”

You burst into laughter, face hot, adrenaline still buzzing.

He glares. “You’re so annoying.”

“Let’s—uh,” Seungmin suddenly says, way too quickly, clearing his throat like he’s resetting his entire internal system. “One more round. For the road.”

You blink. “Training’s not over?”

“Oh, it should be,” he mutters, turning toward the mound again. “But you’ve still got the hand-eye coordination of a brick.”

“Excuse me—”

He doesn’t respond. Just throws you the ball. You catch it with a little too much force. “You better run,” you warn, winding up.

“I dare you.”

You throw it high and off-center—he still catches it, of course, just to rub it in.

You play for a few more minutes, not really focused on skill anymore. Just tossing the ball, swinging half-heartedly, talking smack. But every time your hands brush as he passes the bat back to you… you both feel it.

The static. The shift.

At one point, you lean forward to scoop a ball from the grass, and when you stand up, he’s right behind you. Not close-close, but… enough. You glance at him. He looks at you.

And nothing happens. And everything does.

Eventually, he claps his hands. “Alright. That’s enough public humiliation for you.”

You sigh dramatically. “Thank god. My dignity was hanging by a thread.”

He hums. “You had dignity?”

You throw the glove at him. He catches it one-handed again like he’s showing off on purpose. You both walk over to the bleachers. The air is cooler now, the sky smeared in amber and pink. You sit a step above him, knees drawn up, chin resting on them.

He tosses you a water bottle without looking.

You catch it. “Thanks.”

A beat of silence.

Then he says, voice low, “You hit the ball. That counts as a win.”

You glance at him. He’s not facing you, just staring out at the field, tapping his knuckles lightly on the step between his knees.

You smile. “Even if I almost ate dirt?”

He huffs. “Especially then.”

Another beat.

You sip your water. He rakes a hand through his hair. The silence is comfortable, almost. Almost. Your leg bumps against his lightly. He doesn’t move.

“I still hate the Giants,” you murmur.

“Good,” he says, glancing sideways at you. “I need something to insult you for.”

You smirk. “Oh, just say you love me and go.”

He looks at you for real this time. And for a second, just a second it almost sounds like he will. But instead he says, “Nah. I’m keeping it in my back pocket for when you strike out in front of actual people.”

You shove his shoulder. He shoves back.

A breeze drifts by, lifting the edge of your shirt sleeve, brushing your forearms. The kind of breeze that says summer’s not over yet, but something else might be starting.

You lean back on your hands, stretch your legs out. “So what now?” you ask, half-lazy, half-curious.

Seungmin shrugs. “Dinner?”

“Are you buying?”

He scoffs. “You’re the one who demanded private lessons and then delivered the most tragic baseball performance in recorded history.”

You shoot him a look. “I hit the ball.”

“Barely. I’m not even sure it moved.”

You kick his shoe lightly. He kicks back, just enough to make you wobble a little on the bench. You nudge his knee with yours again—this time slower, intentional. It lingers. He doesn’t move away. Instead, he glances at you sideways. His tone is easy, almost amused when he says, “If we do dinner, you’re not wearing that cursed team shirt.”

You grin. “Make me.”

A small silence before Seungmin blinks once, then tilts his head. “Alright.”

And finally, he stands. Just like that. Casual. Unbothered. You stay seated, watching him dust dirt from his palms.

“You coming, rookie?” he calls over his shoulder. He’s already walking, the sun catching the edge of his hair, painting him in amber. “Or do I have to carry you?”

You roll your eyes, gather your things, and jog to catch up. You don’t bring it up—the near-kiss, the way he caught you, the way his fingers stayed a little too long. He doesn’t either. But when you fall into step beside him and your hands brush again and he doesn't pull away?

You know. He knows.

It’s not nothing anymore. It just isn’t everything yet. Not yet. But maybe soon.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco , @emilyywhyy , @rainyjeno , @fawnoverdawn , @pixie-felix , @anniestay , @notmeneo , @lovslixx , @themoonlightfae , @heartwithoutaname , @yourghostneighbor , @princesskrystix , @drilles , @y2kur0mi , @mochi-space , @ivaviavi , @phelans-thoughts , @the-anon-reader , @beans4beans56 , @joyfulchaoslover , @channieismylove , @cherryoatchai , @unimportantweirdo , @seagulljk , @freckles-and-rage , @lonelydarknessblog , @girlsymptoms , @bookswillfindyouaway , @jasperlvskz , @geekymommakerry , @dazzlingjade , @alisonyus , @pluto-rose , @crazy4books1 , @b3autyist3rror

[screamlet]

in lieu of kissing!!

fyi the first draft of this was exactly 666 words and to be honest i'm sure that was a code to unlock how sickly sweet this turned out. established bucktommy, sick and comically delirious tommy. 650ish words.

---

It's terrible that Buck is this excited to pick up Tommy from work.

"You are so close to skipping," Lucy says when Buck strolls through the hangar. "And way too comfortable on our turf."

Buck stops to reach into one of his pockets and pull out his wedding ring, swapping it out for the silicone one on his hand. He smiles as he holds his hand up to Lucy. "I like to think of Harbor as my turf-in-law."

"Oh my god, get your pilot and get out of here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Buck leaves the hangar for the station area of Harbor, waving hello to the A-shift crew gathered around the kitchen. "Please tell me he's sleeping," Buck calls out.

"He's in the bunk room," Mel, the other A-shift pilot, calls back.

Buck frowns at that very careful wording, but he doesn't stop to ask questions. He knocks at the door of the bunk room and slowly opens it.

All the lights are fully on and Tommy's curled up on one of the lower bunks. He looks at Buck and pouts. "I was resting my eyes."

Buck ducks and sits on the edge of Tommy's bed. "With all the lights on?"

"I didn't want them to get too rested."

Buck presses the back of his hand to Tommy's forehead, but his red cheeks and watery eyes tell Buck what he needs to know. "Do you really want to fly a helicopter like this?"

Tommy nods off mid-thought, then startles awake a second later. "No, but I could. That's what I was telling Lucy. And that's why I called you! So you could tell her, and everyone, that I can fly right now, because I'm not sick, I just don't want to."

Buck runs his fingers through Tommy's hair, gently ruffling his curls. Maybe Tommy will remember later that he actually called Buck and said, "Evan, I'm not sick but no one will let me fly, can you come tell everyone that I can fly because they're making fun of me. I'm gonna lie down but I can totally fly. I have a license."

But maybe he won't. In any case, Buck's marking this as a check in the Tommy asking for help when he needs it column.

"I'll tell her that, if you tell me: Evan, I'm sick and I want to go home and let you take care of me."

Tommy's pout was… incredible. He hesitates for a beat, then says, "Baby, I'm sick and I want to go home and let you take care of me. I want that really good ginger ramen, and The Birdcage on the big TV, and you have to sit with me and watch the whole thing."

"Okay. We'll do all those things," Buck promises.

"All of it," Tommy says. "Even the beginning credits. They set the mood. It's world-building."

"We'll watch all of it, I promise," Buck says. He stands and helps Tommy to his feet, catching him as he sways.

"Kiss me, promise me, you have to promise with a kiss," Tommy protests.

Buck hugs him instead, scratching his nails along Tommy's scalp. "Oof, don't relax that quick, we gotta get to the Jeep," Buck laughs. He pulls away and kisses Tommy's forehead, then rests his hands on Tommy's cheeks (they're burning up). "And we'll cuddle on the couch while we watch the movie."

"It's too sweaty for that," Tommy whines. "Soup and movie, that's it."

Buck sighs. "Okay, into the Jeep, let's go. There's soup and a movie and cold medicine waiting for you."

As Buck leads Tommy through the door into the hangar, Tommy waves at the crew. "Evan said I can fly but he's going to make me soup and I can't say no to my husband so I'm not gonna fly today. Have a great shift, everyone, I love all of you."

Buck smothers his laugh into a cough, and glances over his shoulder. Everyone is waving their phones as they leave, so Buck shakes his head and waves back.

[thatonegrimm]

How about a ai hoshino! reader from oshi no ko

She just as famous as the saja boys, and huntrix,

little idea that I came up with her dark eyes, her reflection of her demon powers, and she only feeds off the energy of the crowd instead of actually taking souls.

Basically, she takes the energy of the adrenaline within their souls. She doesn’t actually take them or eat them, but she feeds them like it’s energy and can actually taste them. It doesn’t really affect any of her fans. They just feel really drained and drowsy.

I got this inspiration by idol yoasobi

Literally, “your idol” and “idol” are kind of the same with the same beginnings and enchanting and all sorts of things, but when I was watching the video, I saw her kind of changed to a dark outfit version and I kind of thought

why not make her have a demon form because it would fit her And her eyes could shift a black eyes when she goes into a demon form which makes her unique

Basically, I just think both of the idol songs one from my movie. One from a anime show are kind of the same but this is basically what I want. I want them to meet the famous who is a half demon just like Rumi but she embraces her demon side. She still grows up with the same backstory, but she kind of embrace it when she sings her songs.

I could go on forever, but this would probably take too long to read so

Please do consider this as a future possibility if you cannot write it and thank you for taking the time to even read this and you can totally come up with how the boys would initially react to her whether or not the type is boyfriend girlfriend, etc. you come up with what they should be doing

 Thanks for your request! I hope it meets your expectations. Here you go!💌

🌙Saja Boys x ai hoshino!Reader

---------------------------

They call her a goddess onstage. A monster off it.

A half-demon idol with eyes darker than shadows and a smile bright enough to blind, she doesn’t take souls—she drinks the adrenaline right out of a crowd's chest.

Her voice wraps around people like silk. Her gaze holds like gravity. When she sings, her audience leaves not broken… but drained. Lightheaded. Emotionally spent. Like something inside them bloomed too fast and burned out.

But they always come back.

Because what she gives in return is unforgettable.

She doesn’t hide her demon half. She doesn't flinch from it. She performs with it. Becomes it. Every note, every move, every carefully crafted look down the bridge of her nose is a love letter to the chaos she was born from.

She isn’t cursed.

She’s chosen.

And now, she’s famous enough to stand next to the Saja Boys. Maybe even outshine them.

-----------------------

🧿 Jinu 

Jinu read your profile like he was preparing for a mission.

Stage clips, interviews, social media—all mental notes about power, presence, and possible risks.

Then he saw you in person during rehearsal, bathed in crimson light, eyelids heavy like you were carrying some secret pain.

And every plan he made evaporated.

“You… resonate strangely,” he said later, standing awkwardly outside your dressing room.

You tilted your head, eyes sharp.

“You’re the kind who tries to fix everyone,” you said softly. “I can taste that exhaustion.”

He blinked.

You smiled—soft but knowing.

Jinu cleared his throat and excused himself.

Later, he told the others, “It’s strategic to observe her from a distance.”

No one bought it.

-----------------------

💪 Abby 

Abby didn’t hesitate to approach you.

He shook your hand like you were old friends, eyes bright.

“Hey! You were incredible! That note? Felt it in my bones. You okay though? That kind of energy—do you need water?”

You blinked, caught off guard by how genuine he was.

“You’re… not intimidated?”

He grinned. “Why would I be? You’re strong. Cool, too. Also, your eyeliner? Perfect. Waterproof?”

You didn’t feed off fear, but Abby’s loyalty tasted like warm cinnamon and comfort.

He saved your signed photo in his phone, calling it “battle inspiration.”

He meant it.

-----------------------

📚 Mystery 

Mystery stood still the first time he saw you.

Backstage, you hummed softly in the shadows without looking up.

“You’re the one who stalks in shadows,” you said quietly.

He didn’t answer.

You smiled faintly.

“Your aura folds. I like that.”

His eyes narrowed, one hand twitching like it reached for a hidden blade.

You brushed past him, close enough to feel the cold.

“Don’t worry. I don’t bite.”

“You don’t have to,” he murmured.

The air stayed cold after you left.

Later, you found a folded page in your makeup case—a poem in precise, strange script, unsigned:

“I saw you burn, and I stayed.”

You kept it.

-----------------------

💋 Romance

Romance met you at an industry showcase and decided it was fate.

You didn’t meet his gaze.

You didn’t have to.

On stage, you were both promise and threat, and he stared, mesmerized.

Later, at the bar, he cornered you with a flute and a grin that could wreck worlds.

“If you weren’t real, I’d have to invent you.”

You looked him over slowly.

“If you invented me, I’d still leave you on read.”

He nearly laughed. Not offended—delighted.

“I hope you do.”

The next day, he rewrote the bridge of a song just because your name rhymed with something interesting.

He calls you “his muse with fangs.”

Everyone else calls it a problem.

-----------------------

🔥 Baby

Baby watched your comeback from the wings, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Your voice wasn’t loud or flashy.

But you held the crowd in a chokehold.

He could feel their energy flow toward you like flipping a switch.

“She’s doing something,” he muttered.

No one listened.

Later, you passed him in the hallway, eyes drifting over him—lazy, curious.

“You run hot,” you said.

He didn’t blink.

“You should see me focused.”

You smirked. He didn’t.

But his ears flushed red.

The next time he trained, he snapped a sparring dummy in half.

Jinu said nothing. Just nodded.

Baby never flirted.

He never flinched.

But he never missed your live streams.

-----------------------

M-List