#or is he actually wanting to fix communities and help people

[your-dear-memmy]

I love me a good yap dw! Here's my own yap bc brainrot:

Oh absolutely, codependency is extremely unhealthy, so they'd need to fix it before pursuing a relationship, which would mean that the dramatically slow burn works in their favor. It takes a lot before their first response to something they don't like isn't yelling (Kaito) or antagonizing the other and lying about being evil (Kokichi) they don't know how to communicate with people normally, much less with the person they participated in an assisted suicide scheme with- yet I feel like Kaito would straight up be more comfortable with Kokichi than with Maki and Shuichi post-game, because the latter two have this idealized version of Kaito that doesn't truly exist, and that consequentially Kokichi does not see. Kokichi sees Kaito's flaws and he doesn't let him ignore them, and Kaito does the same, so they're perfect for mutual character growth.

There'd be loooots of resentment, yeah, so it would all amount to a really fucked up cocktail of feelings- until they get their shit together, at least.

YES I also think they'd be the kind of unlabeled very close relationship with no physical boundaries, you read my mind! Two years is a good time to wait to confess to your PARTNER IN CRIME... Frigging love that term for oumota sm. Like yeah, that guy over there? He's my partner... IN CRIME!!

I like non-HPA despairless AUs too, but their ultimate talents are too dear for me to let go of, I need them to be the best of the best, and I want DICE to be very present as well </3

RIGHT, it's also funny if Kokichi is the first one to fall in love, as clown boy's first love ends up being some guy with a fuckass haircut and 'pervert' facial hair and a really embarrassing tendency to talk like a cartoon hero (which, like, why would he anyway, villains are obviously way cooler🙄)

When he tries to flirt in a very roundabout way (because he's terrified of rejection), Kaito remains completely oblivious (on a side note, I really like one-sided Saimota and one-sided Harumota when it comes to Oumota, simply because I find it really funny for them to get cucked)

Kokichi makes it his life mission to use different things, such as water guns, to ruin Kaito's hair gel everyday, and he would never admit it's because Kaito looks way hotter with his hair down💞

[DICE member: have you tried uhh.. Gifting him a pretty rock?

Kokichi: Duh! B-b-but he's too stupid to understand my advanced flirting tecniques.... *insert faux sad wet dog sprite*

Other DICE member, looking offscreen: Uh, you're not supposed to throw it, boss-]

Very straight indeed! He'd spend the night awake trying to justify how actually? Thinking so much about another guy is a very manly thing to do, and it's not gay at all! I imagine him vaguely talking to his classmates about it without mentioning Kokichi, and everyone does a double take when they realize Kaito is very much serious about thinking that he is still straight, somehow.

They're sooo annoying, there'd be so many shenanigans where the class tries to help them confess (after Kaito finally figures it out, perhaps) and it'd be disaster after disaster- oh my god, both the students and DICE try to help at the same time and they end up accidentally sabotaging each other everytime😭😭😭

Been tripping about this for a while, but excluding in-game because realistically it wouldn't happen

Who do you guys think falls first in oumota? 🤔

To me, it has to be Kaito, it probably takes a long time for Kokichi to even *think* about trusting the dude, imagine how long it would take for him to actually develop romantic feelings..

But even then, Kaito would also take ages to admit he even likes Kokichi platonically let alone romantically lol biggest slowburn ever, idiots both of them.

[shoezuki]

Thinkin bout Sampo Koski rn as like. His character n what we get of him in honkai star rail and he fucking. He confuses me like. There has to be So Much more to him like

The general vibes of him and especially how other characters treat him is that of comic relief, a punching bag, a goof, just a slick conman causing trouble. It's genuinely difficult NOT to insult him n treat him badly with dialogue options and any time he's even mentioned March 7th hisses at him. He's literally a cryptid in belobog. He's a joke.

But. But. There's his light cone. It makes me insane. It contradicts all of that.

In it he's competent. He's badass. He's omnipotent. He's able to somehow know a sniper from however far away is locked on him and address them specifically.

And even like... in the entire plot of jarilo-vi he's spoken of like he's not much. He's a 4 star character. But he's practically as present as bronya and seele and Gepard and his involvement in the story is ASTRONOMICAL. He has a part in every major event. He's the one who drags the Trailblazers and bronya into the Underworld. He's the one who takes you to svarog, to the overworld again. He gets Natasha and saves you from svarog. He's the first character you ever meet on jarilo.

And he seems to just vanish before you confront cocolia. But no. Sampo is the one who has the last word and wraps up the entire mission on jarilo-vi. He fucking breaks the forth wall. Jarilo-vi both begins and ends with Sampo.

He calls himself shadowy comic relief yet he seemingly orchestrated everything. What is he. What the fuck is he doing. What else is up with him and when will we get more of him. I want to bite into him and tear him apart.

[prlssprfctn]

I think Jason should be allowed to manipulate his family with the "oh, you are my favourite, actually" line. It sounds very flattering to them (because Jason? Jason-I-Want-Nothing-To-Do-With-This-Family-Todd? Admitting you are his favourite? Oh, the hundred per cent bust of ego!) and more to say, this system of manipulation is eternal.

They can argue with each other as much as they want, but none of them would believe the other — Jason Todd is too tsundere to say something like this aloud, to each of them. So, someone is lying. For sure.

(And they are too self-assured in themselves to doubt that they are his favourite. Also, Jason makes every manipulation, specifically individual. So, it is not like he repeats the same confession and reasons. Very believable. Aka: this family needs someone to be open about their love, so they latch on everything and everyone who is willing to admit that openly)

Dick, slightly frustrated: Why are you asking me this favour? You know, I don't usually do these sort of things, I don't really... I don't know, it is too dangerous, I don't like the whole idea.

Jason, face dropping: Oh... Sorry. I shouldn't ask you, just... Dunno, I thought since you are my only big brother, and... Urgh, I guess I am still too attached to you more than to others. You are right. I'll ask Timbers or—

Dick, with his eyes suspiciously wet: oh-

Dick: NO, no. I'll do it. Don't worry. Big brother got your back, Lil Wing!

Tim, frowning: So, am I getting this right — you want me to hack into some system in someone's high school to fix the diploma of a kid who got a ONE bad grade—

Jason: He needs this scholarship. He is a kid of the streets! He can't do it otherwise, and it is not like the world would collapse if you fix one grade!

Tim: Yeah, I don't care about morals, I am just confused. Why would I want to spend my time on this, I am pretty sure—

Jason, dead ass serious: You know I don't like to communicate with this family. I only ever love talking with you, so sue me for thinking you could do me a favour.

Tim, instantly smirking: Ah, so I am your favourite... Well-well, big brother, I guess I can do this.

Damian: I am *not* going to tell you what our father is planning to do with this specific villain. Who do you think I am? An idiot?

Jason, sighing: Damn, and I really thought we had each other's back since League of Assassins.

Damian, scoffing: Emotional manipulation will not work on me.

Jason, all confused: Why would I manipulate you? From all people? I didn't raise you to fall on shit like this.

Damian: Tt.

Damian: Fine. Since, I guess, I owe you for babysitting me...

Bruce: Jason, I appreciate your... strive to help me, but nothing has ever gone well when you worked on cases like that. Let me handle this, and—

Jason, silently sitting down on the armchair, hands on his head: (sniff)

Bruce, panicked: Jaylad?..

Jason: I get it. I really do. No matter how much I love you, no matter how much I keep choosing you over anyone in this family, you don't love me anymore. I really understand it. I... I came in peace with it. I just wished you would tolerate my work... a little bit. You know?

Bruce: No, no, sweetheart, I— I am your favourite?

Jason, sniffling angrily: Who else it could be, old man?

Bruce: Oh. Oh, Jaylad— (instantly hands him the case)

(The family dinner)

Bruce, mentally humming to himself: Oh, these kids have NO idea that I am Jason's favourite because we are connected like that ^•^

Dick, mentally beaming: Oh, no one here has an idea that I am Jason's favourite because I am his big brother and protector! :>

Tim, mentally laughing evilly: Oh, these flops have no idea that I am Jason's favourite and that he wishes I was his Robin!

Damian, mentally kicking his feet: None of my family members suspect that I am Akhi's favourite because he was practically my nanny through all childhood. Tt.

Jason, munching on food: Lol

[acid-ixx]

if you guys are interested, send in an ask or comment!

will anybody be willing to hear out neglected child reader who was another one of zeus's bastard children. you're out there chasing for your stepmother (hera's attention), whilst zeus just lets you run around without his care, clearly too wrapped up in his affairs. your other siblings aren't as good to you, too, thinking another half-deity isn't worth their time—

so you'd give up, pretty much choosing to bestow the mortal world with your presence instead; because if you can't be loved by your own family, then let yourself be worshipped by passionate mortals instead.

how about romancing telemachus? what if you both learn what it's like navigating through his godly favor with athena, and you with your own powers? what if you have odysseus and penelope be the actual parent-figures you always wanted? their overprotectiveness skyrockets every time you propose to being elsewhere in ithaca, to the point you forget that it's you who has the godly powers to oppose, but how could you when a darker side of them appears every time you allow yourself to be disrespected within their palace?

how about in another place? what are you to many of the great warriors, if not for a forgotten, yet mysterious and whimsical deity? why is your name muttered in all the regions? surely, with just how much you deny your god-like origins, but still manage to capture the hearts of hundreds of suitors, you'd gain quite the infamous name despite your closed-off attitude.

imagine enough attention was garnered on your presence, that that's what was needed for them to finally notice you? but you're not quite the same child who used to pull on their robes, or look at them as brightly as the sun— no, now you deny them of any of your love. your mother, hera, finally sees you and urges you to return to olympus away from the prying eyes of many suitors and back into the domain of safety. she calls you her baby, fuzzing over you even when you openly and spitefully try to rip her hands away from fixing your 'messy' robes. zeus isn't any better, now he calls you sweet names and pretend like he hadn't actively bashed on you for your weakness back when you were begging on his throne for just a sliver of attention? he wants you to sit in between his throne and hera's? you're significantly smaller than him, he's gigantic in nature, and it doesn't help that he treats you like you could be easily squashed by him (which is every damn right possible, and it's intimidating and makes you want to cry).

and there's the issue with the others, too. so many of them used to deny you in favor of focusing on their own domains. now apollo wants to carry you off in one of his chariots to ride off the skies with him while he plays his lyre to you? artemis wants to teach you the way of the hunt under the dark, gloomy skies you used to wish under for a moment of their time? aphrodite used to spitefully shut you out of her own doors, but now she invites you in her room to gossip and play pretend while she coos and braids your hair?

and all the other gods, now wanting to take you away from the underserving - as they say it - mortal realm? that the people who built sculptures of you, who held you more lovingly more than those you grew up with, aren't worthy of your divine presence?

what a joy to be a being looming between the lines of mortal and divine, right?

a/n: this concept is better off and more coherent in my head i swear. now i don't often diverge from my main fandom, but the similarities between this and the yan! batfam is quite hilarious to me that ngl i want to make a crossover of it. and yes, this is me coping with the stress of having to deal with the sudden influx of hate in the yan! dc community, so i'm taking a short break from it to focus on this.

[satoshy12]

Failed rogue Danny

It was just for fun!

He was in this new world, sent into it by Clockwork, and Danny wanted to be a villain all around this World, join the big groups, like all his own always do with him… only he always failed.

He tries to do evil, but he ends up helping people. I mean just look at all his fails!

The bank robbery: Danny tries to rob a bank, but when he phases through the wall, he accidentally disrupts a malfunctioning security system that was about to explode, saving everyone inside from a deadly blast.

Sabotage: Attempts to sabotage a factory's machinery, but ends up fixing a critical problem instead, preventing a catastrophic accident and earning the gratitude of the workers.

Mugging: Danny tries to mug someone in a dark alley, only to find that the person was about to be ambushed by real criminals. His presence scares off the actual muggers, leaving the person safe.

Planting Trouble: He tries to ruin a community garden by planting invasive species, but the plants he accidentally chooses are rare medicinal herbs that cure a local epidemic.

Looting Prevention: Danny attempts to loot a ship at sea, but in his ghostly form, he scares off the pirates who were actually planning to attack the ship, protecting the crew and cargo.

Ruin a charity event: Attempts to sabotage a charity auction by possessing the auctioneer, but his ghostly antics make the event so entertaining that it raises twice as much money as expected.

+

In the end, he just gives up and puts his villain mask to one side. He's not cut out to be a villain, so he returns to the school here until Clockwork and the others pick him up.

[arthursfuckinghat]

This is actually really interesting so far.

You have the majority that recognises how Arthur's fate is inevitable, yet they would still would try to fix him.

The close tie of people who think that he doesn't need fixing with the people who think they could fix him, and the rest who think that he cannot be fixed and therefore cannot fix him.

This is fascinating, thank you all who's voted so far!

The meaning of "fix" is up to your own interpretation, feel free to elaborate in the notes!

[sailorsoons]

Chat, is that Rizz? (j. ww)

PAIRING: Streamer!Wonwoo x Streamer! F.reader 

SUMMARY: Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

WC: 5,366

AU: Established Relationship, Faux Rivals 

GENRE: Smut, a hint of fluff

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: This is so cheesy and stupid and I don’t care!! Explicit language, teasing and light antagonization, gamer and streamer speak in spots, sexually explicit content including spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, hint of overstimulation, playful banter and teasing during sex, bodily fluids, soft dom if you squint. UNEDITED.

A/N: Originally written on sailorrhansol for @daechwitatamic I'm pretty sure this came out of us doing god awful puns and this was the result.

A/N 2: This is unedited sorry!

MASTERLIST | ASK | PERMANENT TAG LIST 

“YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO HIT IMMORTAL WITH THAT STRAT, WONWOO,” you tease, cringing as he gets gunned down by the enemy team’s Reyna. “Rotated too early.” 

“Here they go,” Seungcheol mutters into the mic, his exasperation making you grin as you fix your eyes on the screen. Like both you and Wonwoo, Seungcheol has already died in the round, watching as Mingyu navigates the map to pick up the bomb to attempt to save the round. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you while you were dead,” Wonwoo shoots back. You scrunch your nose, knowing that it is, unfortunately, true. “I was in the land of the living. You know. Because I didn’t dry peek long and die.” 

“Seungcheol told me to push site!”

“Maybe push with util, though? Or be better.”

On the right side of your screen, you can see your chat blowing up. You grin and roll your eyes - you aren’t actually bothered by Wonwoo and you know he isn’t mad either. Playing games with him always elicits teasing and a steady back and forth.

Once upon a time, his poking might bother you. Now, you’ve played enough games with Wonwoo over the last two years to know better. It’s all in good faith, and it’s part of the joke, this ongoing way the two of you bicker and go tit for tat. 

“I am nothing if not an accommodating teammate,” you offer back. Mingyu manages to get to the site, swinging wildly to check for enemies. “I’m a helper. I like to help people.”

“You can help me by shutting up,” Mingyu mutters. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echos, a smirk prominent in his voice. “Shut up.” 

“No I’m talking to you too,” Mingyu assures. “And you did rotate without me and too early. So she’s right.”

That shuts Wonwoo up, a chorus of laughter echoing in the headset as your team watches Mingyu try and go for the clutch. Your laughter fades and you mute yourself on Discord in an attempt not to distract Mingyu, eyes flicking over to the comments flooding in on your stream.

It’s a rewarding feeling to see how many there are, donation notifications popping up on the top of your screen making your heart stutter a little. You can see Seokmin moderating as usual in the chat, reminding people the commands for frequently asked questions and removing anything weird. 

There is a lot of weird. 

“Thank you for the dono, Shaezy98. Yes, PiCheolwinning, I hit Immortal a few days ago! What do you guys think about doing a nonstop stream until I hit Radiant? Would that be fun?” 

Resounding yes responses flood the comments. You grin, pulling your legs up into the chair to make small talk with the community you’ve so carefully built over the last few years. You see a suggestion in the comments that makes you laugh, leaning forward to unmute yourself in Discord. 

“Hey Wonwoo,” you ask. “My chat wants us to try 1v1 where we customize each other’s settings. Thoughts?” 

It’s a common question. People love the dynamic you and Wonwoo specifically have, enjoying seeing the friendly rivalry grow over the years. You can recall several streams you’ve done just playing together, hosting charity events and promoting new games as a dynamic duo. 

Some wonder if you’re together. There’s no hard evidence, but there's chemistry there. A lightness to your banter that comes with a familiarity your fans try to piece together, a gentleness that sounds the edges of your insults to make sure the other knows your kidding. 

Wonwoo lets out a deep hum. “You’re gonna go demon mode on my settings. Then I’d have to change them back.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’s worried about his settings, as if he can’t export them. “Is that a no?”

“What’s in it for me? Besides my fucked up settings and the risk you change all my weapon skins.”

Clearing your throat, you put on your best telemarketer voice. “The benefits to this offer are endless. For a limited time only, you can take advantage  of quality time spent with me-” 

“Not a benefit.” 

You ignore his interruption, a vein in your forehead ticking at the comment. “You can protect your honor and pride as a gamer, and as a special early bird offer, I’ll give all donations from that stream to a charity of your choosing. Thoughts?” 

Mingyu ends up losing the round, earning a resounding sigh and curse from everyone on the team. You move your mouse around to click through weapons and set yourself up for the next round. “They’re going to force,” you say, momentarily distracted from your sales pitch by strategy. “Wonwoo I can buy you a marshall.”

“Yeah.” 

You make the transaction for him and drop the weapon so he can pick it up, noting the comments coming in from viewers.

NoLo88: See, she always does stuff for him - I swear they’re together!!!

EzBoyZ: No way would she date him.

NoLo88: Are you kidding? Have you seen Wonwoo? He’s like the hottest streamer ever.

LoLPog69: Ugh I hope they’re not dating, she’s better single. 

 “See, I’m fun. I’m nice. I’m a team player who helps win games. What do you say?” 

“Fine, it’s a date.” 

The way he so casually says it makes your stomach flip. You hesitate for a moment, blinking in surprise before you realize he’s said it without really thinking about it. Biting  your bottom lip to fight a smile, you ask, “Oh? A date? Chat, is that rizz?” 

“Oh fuck off,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to cover up his mistake. You can’t help it - your smile spreads as he rushes to gloss over what he said. “It’s a figure of speech.” 

“He’s trying to rizz me, chat!”

“In your dreams.”

“You should change your tag from WonuWizard to WonuRizzard.” Wonwoo curses as he gets killed. You cackle, killing an enemy and taking their gun. “Oo, an operator. Do you want this, Wonwoo? What about changing your tag to RizzardOfOz?” 

Wonwoo groans on the other end of the mic and you can imagine the way he pushes back in his chair, sinking a little further down as he spectates the match. “Yes, save the op for me, please. Also, get your chat out of mine. I’m going to get a Rizzstraining order.” 

You note the way he says for me when he asks for the weapon you’ve picked up to keep for him. It is a favor to him, intended for him. Your viewers notice. 

Seungcheol swears. “You two are insufferable to play with sometimes. We’re trying to win a game.” 

Mingyu huffs. “Just stop Rizzsponding, Cheol. They’ll shut up eventually.” 

With a laugh, you settle in and focus on the game. Even as the teasing dies down, you and Wonwoo fall into a comfortable give and take, working together to win the next few rounds and eventually, the entire match after Wonwoo closes out the game with an ace. 

“Wow.” You lean back in your chair, stretching. It’s getting late at night, and you feel a little tired. “Mad Rizzpect, Wonwoo. Up your rizz game and maybe I’ll go on a date with you.” 

“Up my rizz game?” His tone has shifted as everyone starts talking over one another, Seungcheol and Mingyu getting into it over something sports related. You’re focused on the soft purr of Wonwoo’s voice, though. The raspiness of it. “If I wanted to rizz you, I would.” 

Fuck. His voice. You shift a little in your seat, clicking around your secondary monitor that is off stream to pull up Wonwoo’s stream. It loads, immediately showing his dark room with slow pulsing RGB lights in the background and shelving displaying different collectible items. 

Wonwoo looks like he always does: leaned back casually in his seat, the glow of his computer reflecting in the lens of his black-frame glasses. Dark bangs hang in his eyes, the rest of his hair hidden by the hood that is pulled up over his head. He’s chewing on one of the strings of his hoodie as he talks to his chat, voice gentle.

His hoodie has a little animated version of him over the left side of the chest, the character winking and giving finger hearts. You feel your lips twitch - you always loved the little cartoon version of himself. As always, he looks totally at ease. It’s the same even in an intense game, Wonwoo never feeling the need to lean closer to the screen or showing the tension in his shoulders.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Except when you can force a rise out of him, of course. 

A bunch of notifications flood in your chat. You look over to them, reading through them and grinning. You pull your mic toward you, shaking your head. “Ugh I have all the Wonwoo apologists in my chat defending your rizz.” 

“Good” he shoots back. You watch in delayed time as he smirks on his end. He so rarely does a full smile, but you know it’s beautiful when he does. “You need to take Rizzponsibility for implying I have no rizz.” 

“No way,” Mingyu gasps. “Two Wonwoo puns in a single night?”

“Puns and attempted rizz?” You ask, cocking your head. “Huge day for Wonwoo fans everywhere.” 

“Again, that wasn’t rizz. You’ll know it when I use it.”  

“Sure, sure. Or maybe you just… don’t have any.” 

You watch the tick in Wonwoo’s jaw. A grin spreads across your face and you try to suppress it, knee bouncing in anticipation as you watch the minute changes in his expression. He drums his fingers on the armrest of his gaming chair, hypnotizing you for a moment. He has long, elegant fingers paired with a beautiful set of hands. 

“You really think I have no rizz?” he asks, voice low and oh you know that voice. You suppress a shiver and shake your head ‘no’ before realizing that he can’t see you. Or he does - because he says, “Use your words like a big girl.” 

If you weren’t on stream, your eyes might roll back in your head at the soft purr of his voice, the way in which he immediately switches gears, put out by your accusations that you already know are false. 

And because you’re you, you push him a little more, interested to see where it goes.  “Are you watching my stream, Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Mhmm. Trying to learn rizz, since apparently I have none. Go on, show the class. What have you got?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both ooo and quiet down, putting you on the spot. Heat tiptoes up your neck to your ears. Being a streamer by nature is being under the spotlight, especially when you have a high follower account. This is different though, the pressure suddenly flipped to you as your friends settle in, waiting. 

“It’s all about the charizzma,” you joke, voice a little raspy. You swallow, eyes flicking to your secondary monitor where you can see Wonwoo watching his screen with a growing grin. “I can’t teach you how to have that, Jeon.” 

“What can you teach me, Angel?” 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You know that commanding tone anywhere, the soft shift from teasing to something a little darker, a little sharper. He doesn’t care that you’re both on the screen for live viewers, that this will be recorded, or that you have friends on the call, who have taken a backseat to watch the fencing match. 

And the angel. Sure, it’s a small part of your brand and gamertag, but the way Wonwoo says it implies something intimate. Darker. A gentle caress of the word against your skin. 

When you come up with nothing, Wonwoo grins on screen, devastatingly handsome. He knows he’s surprised you. “Not a problem,” he quips. “I’m an excellent teacher. I can teach you how to rizzpond to a direct question.” 

He surprises you by ending the stream suddenly. You blink in surprise, both Seungcheol and Mingyu calling Wonwoo’s name, assuming his internet has gone out or has been interrupted. With shaking hands, you remove one side of your headphones, listening. Heavy footsteps sound in the hall and you squeak, hitting the hotkey to show be right back on your stream.

Wonwoo stands in the doorway. He gives you a single, lopsided smirk before waltzing toward you, a predator stalking prey. His dark eyes are focused on you, drinking you in. 

“Noooo,” you yell at him, giddy and panicked all at the same time. You hold your hands out to push him away but he links your fingers instead pressing his palms against yours and pulls you toward him. He jerks your computer chair toward him, your knees crashing against his. “Hiiiii.” 

“No rizz, huh?” his voice is barely a murmur. 

“Ummm,” you glance over to your set up where the be right back glows. Wonwoo follows your line of sight before dropping his gaze back to you, eyes asking a question. “Do you… want to?”

Elation falls across his face. “I’m down if you are. You know that.” 

Chewing your lip, you smile and nod. You’ve long been planning to reveal that the two of you have been dating for a long time, and the present feels right. Not to mention the implication of him ending the stream and you slamming the be right back on at the same time. 

Wonwoo leans down and grabs the arms of your computer chair, spinning it around and pushing you back into the frame. He leans over your shoulder, the smell of sandalwood and lavender enveloping you, making your head spin. He hits the hotkey to turn your stream and mic back on. 

Your eyes drop to where you’re displayed in the camera, Wonwoo leans against the back of your chair, chest pressed to your shoulder as he grins at the camera. Your thighs clench, seeing that same cocky smirk you’re used to making a brief appearance on camera. 

“Sorry chat,” Wonwoo announces. “Sorry Cheol, Mingyu. I have to handle the disrizzspect going on in my own home. Say byeeee to chat, Angel.” 

“Byeeee,” you squeak on instinct, watching as he waves while your comments explode. He closes out the stream and cuts off the Discord call where Seungcheol and Mingyu are screeching, shutting down your computer entirely so there’s no chance for accidents. 

Stomach fluttering, you take off your headphones and look up at Wonwoo to find he’s already staring down at you, dark eyes hungry. You slide down a little in your chair, feeling your mouth go dry. You got what you wanted, but now that he’s there and you can feel the intensity crackling between you, you can’t help but balk just a little.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching at the corner. “Rizz got your tongue?” 

“I guess maybe you have a little rizz.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Wonwoo pulls your seat backward, spinning your chair around so that you face the bed. He lets go of the chair and walks backward, sitting on the edge of your bed. You stare at him, heart beating, breath quickening. “Now that there’s no one here I have rizz.” 

You pout. “It’s our brand.”

“Mhmm.” He leans back on your bed, the mattress dimpling under his weight. He pats his thigh with one hand. “You just love getting under my skin, don’t you?”

You climb out of your computer chair, stumbling a little as the blood starts to flow from where they were crisscrossed. He tsks at you as you regain your footing, padding over to where he sits, legs spread, thighs straining against his athletic shorts. 

Carefully, you climb into his lap. Your body buzzes as you settle over him, one knee on either side of his hips. You lean your weight into him, hands resting on top of his shoulders. Even through his hoodie, you can feel how warm his skin is. 

“Are you happy now?” 

“Huh?” 

One of his hands leaves the bed and cracks against your ass, starling you. You squeak and lean forward, the sting making your eyelids flutter. “You’re not even listening, are you?” 

“I wasn’t.” 

His hand kneads your ass through your shorts, soothing the sting from the slap. “I asked, are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted?” You nodded, letting your head hang down, burying your face in his neck. It’s warm and safe there, your thoughts sticky as his hand continues to explore your ass. “Remember when I said use your words like a big girl?”

“Yes. Yes, I got what I wanted.”

“And what was it you wanted?”

When you hesitate to answer, too focused on your slamming heart and stuttered breathing, his hand comes down across your ass again. You curse, melting into him, letting him bear your weight entirely. “Wanted to rile you up.”

“It worked.”

“I can tell.” 

Wonwoo’s hand trails to the edge of your shorts, fingers dancing along your thighs. You’re hype aware of his touch and the way it sends fire through you, stomach in knots and cunt aching between your legs as he fingers the hem of your shorts. 

“Is it okay that I interrupted your stream?”

The question is so much softer than he was a second ago. You lift your head to look at him. His face swims into focus, a momentary flicker of nervousness. Wonwoo is rarely impulsive, but the move to announce your rivalry is more romantic than most people knew was unplanned and spur of the moment. 

“It’s definitely okay. Is it okay with you?”

He nods, leaning forward to run his nose up the side of your neck. He inhales, taking in your scent and humming while the hand running along your shorts pulls at the fabric. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be upset.”

“No. Now the people in your chat know you’re mine.”

“Yours?” His mouth brushes against the hollow of your throat, hot and wet. Your head tilts back, lips parting as his tongue flicks against your skin. “Just wanted to claim me, is that it?”

“Your fans are horny?”

He nips your neck and a moan drips from you. “Yours aren’t?” 

“Not like yours.” 

“Too bad for them. There’s only one angel who can get under my skin.” Wonwoo takes you by the waist and rolls you over. Your breath leaves you in a huff as your back hits the mattress. He leans over you, knees caging you in on either side of your hips as he presses his mouth to your jawline, sucking kisses up toward your ear. “Only one drawback - she thinks I have no rizz.” 

You bring your hands to the hem of his hoodie, desperate to feel him. Sliding your hands under the fabric, you press your palms against his stomach, feeling his muscle flex as his skin warms your hands. His mouth is wet against your skin, teeth nipping your earlobe teasingly, drawing a raspy sound from you. 

“I think,” you gasp as he drops a hand between your legs to press against your clothed cunt, “That she might be wrong about the rizz.”

Wonwoo’s fingers apply pressure, barely circling your clit through the fabric. It worsens the ache between your legs, your thoughts getting scattered as you squirm underneath him. He brings his mouth to yours, stealing a greedy kiss. 

This is the part of Wonwoo that you know only you see. Where the calm and collected gamer turns into an all consuming force, stealing the breath from your lungs as his tongue presses against yours. You kiss him back with equal want, whimpering into his mouth as he presses his fingers a little harder against you. 

“Please,” you breathe against his mouth between kisses. “I know I was mean but please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

“Are you, though?” He mouths down your neck to your collarbone, the sting of his teeth soothed by the rough pass of his tongue. “You got exactly what you wanted and more.” 

“I ammmm.”

His laughter is rough. The hand between your legs comes up to the top of your shorts, dipping past the waistline to sink downward. He groans when he feels the dampness of your underwear, the way he’s already worked you up. 

“No rizz,” he mutters to himself. You throb when you feel his fingers pull your underwear to the side, knuckles running up your wet folds where he stops at your clit to press down. Your nails scrap against his abs, body tensing under the stimulation. “This is a wet fucking fucking pussy for someone who has no rizz.” 

You can’t think of a response, mind reeling as Wonwoo plays with you properly. You writhe in his hands, melting as his fingers brush up and down your slit before coming back up to gently circle your clit. Your feet kick a little under him, unable to sit still as he works you - teases you. 

Fuck you realize he might do this all night. 

“You have a lot of rizz,” you breath, pressing the back of your head into the bed, gasping in surprise as he sinks a finger into your entrance. Already you’re clenching down on him, wanting more. “Fuck.” 

“I don’t know… maybe I just… lack what you need.”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just… ugh like that.” 

The ease at which he knows how to touch you makes everything feel tenfold. Wonwoo knows you like the back of your hand, both intimately and mentally. What had started as two streamers annoying one another had turned into friendship at some point - you’d met him at a convention and realized he was far gentler and softer than you imagine. 

That had turned into something further - something deeper. The want when you were around him was something that you hadn’t expected, but it hasn’t gone away since. Even though you get to have him like this, finger stroking your inner walls and palm pressed against your clit, you always want more. Can’t stop wanting him. 

“Want,” you mutter, the only word you can think of. You feel the smile pressed against your skin, the wetness slicking his fingers as he presses in a second, stretching you. Your hips can’t off the bed but he pushes you back down, making you whine. 

“Why should I?” 

“Cause.”

“Not a good enough answer.” 

Wonwoo starts to retract his hand and you scramble, digging your nails into his hip to claw him back toward you. “Cause I love you.” 

“Closer…” 

“Cause I want you.”

“So close.”

“Cause I need you.” 

He hums in thought. “Good enough. Help me take these fucking shorts off.” 

Wonwoo pulls his hand out of your shorts and leans upward. You rip your hands from his hoodie to slide your shorts off, peeling your underwear down as you do. He taps you on the thigh, fingers sticky from your arousal as he shifts higher. You know what he’s asking, scooting backward on the mattress to give yourself more real estate.

His mouth comes back down to yours, lips soft. You love kissing him, tongue tangling as you bring your hands up to slide your fingers through his hair. He makes an appreciative sound, one hand supporting his weight as he hovers over you while the other slots back between your legs to resume where he left off.

Unrestricted by your shorts, he’s able to thrust his fingers properly. Your gasps break his kisses, hips rolling to meet the stroke of his fingers. He’s always been skilled with his hands, able to peel you apart, pressing the pads of his fingers into that sweet spot over and over again. 

His thumb presses against your clit, adding stimulation as he moves it from side to side slowly, aided by the wetness gathered there. You let yourself get lost in him, pressure tightening in your stomach as you climb toward an orgasm. 

Your hands are everywhere - pulling at his hair, pulling at his shoulders, pulling at his arms. He lets you grip at him, lets you squirm beneath his ministrations, letting you have free reign. It’s a favor to you, in a way. He’s letting you get away with your earlier teasing, not drawing it out like he’s known to do, not making you beg.

Moans bracket the wet sound his fingers make in your cunt as he works you to the edge. Your breaths come out in short hisses behind clenched teeth and your thighs squeeze his hand. He’s unfettered, laughing roughly against your ear, breath hot.

“What would your chat say?” he asks. “Huh? What would they say if they knew you fell apart like this? That your cunt melts around my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, so close to your orgasm that your ears are starting to buzz. 

“All this time they thought we were frenemies. Have no idea I get to have you like this whenever I want.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, you’re gonna.” His fingers press harder, the pressure mounting further. “Gonna come all over my fingers, yeah? Just like you always do?” 

You do. 

Everything comes together in one, cohesive snap. You arch into him, muscles squeezing, teeth clenched, eyes shut. It feels good when you unravel, coming around his fingers as they fuck you through it, determind to extend your high for as long as he can. 

Your breathing is ragged by the time you start to come down, shirt sticking to your skin and neck and face flushed as you try to escape him. He laughs a little, hand slowing until his fingers are still inside you, pressed deep. 

When you open your eyes, the room is spinning. It takes you a second to focus on him. His head is hanging, gaze focused where his fingers are still shoved in your pussy. You can see your arousal shining on his wrist and feel where you drip down the curve of your ass. 

“A lot of cum for someone with no rizz,” he notes, lifting his head to grin at you. 

“Oh shut up.” 

“Oh?”

He retracts his hand and you make a pitiful sound at the loss. He stands up, suddenly leaving you cold and shivering. He brings his fingers to his mouth absently, popping them between rosy lips as he sucks your fluid off easily, making an appreciative sound. 

“I mean if you want me to leave-”

“No, no! No need for that.” He smirks. “You’re already… here and stuff.”

“And stuff.” 

Rolling his eyes, he peels the hoodie up and over his head. You watch, suddenly entranced by the blue tint on his tan skin and the way his muscles flex when he leans to kick off his sweats. Wonwoo is beautiful, his body made up of equal parts streamlined edges and softness. 

Sleeper build, you’d joke the first time you saw him shirtless. On stream, he’s always hidden in baggy shirts and hoodies. You’d never realized he was hiding a body that was at peak athletic form, oversized clothing giving way to rippling arms and a hard chest. 

Naked, he shuffles back to the bed. You let him pull you out of your top, thankful for the warmth of his hands skating over your chilled skin. Your nipples tighten in the cool air, your toes curling at the sensation as you lay back on the bed and look up at him.

Haloed by blue light, Wonwoo looks like some sort of demon or angel. You’re not sure - perhaps he’s equal parts. His hands reach behind your thighs and lift, pressing your legs upward toward your chest. The stretch feels good but it also pries you open, making you writhe when you feel the weight of his cock on your pussy. 

“Hold yourself open for me,” he murmurs gently. Your hands reach behind the back of your knees, pulling. He gives you a lopsided grin, leaning over you to press his weight into the backs of your thighs, helping. “Stay just like that, fuck.” 

You do as he says. You have no other choice, especially when he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, sinking in slowly. You let out a loan moan shaped in his name as he presses in, the fit tight and the pressure delirious. 

Wonwoo bottoms out, holding himself to you, hips to ass for a second. He presses in all of his weight, the mattress creaking under you as he does. He drops his chin to his chest, curses as he takes a few deep breaths, chest heaving. 

You fuck him up too. You know it and you love it, watching as he looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, but still full of love. It simmers right at the surface, so obvious that you wonder how anyone could ever not see it when it’s right there.

Slowly, he starts to move. You suck in a breath, head falling to the side. Your fingers ache where you grip your thighs, knuckles shaking. A light sheen of sweat wicks your legs, making your hold slip a little. It’s okay, though. Wonwoo leans into you, keeping you pried open as his hips fuck into you at a steady pace. 

Each thrust feels like it punches the air from your lungs. You draw in deep breaths when you remember, otherwise distracted with the way he crowds you in, crushing you to the mattress. The feeling of him is insane, your thoughts cobwebbing together, the only word you can think of being his name. 

He pants, his arms scooping around your shoulders to pull you into him. A curse leaves your mouth. He’s got you folded in half, no escape from the drill of his hips, the air turning to static between you. Wonwoo is pressed close and you somehow wish you were closer, wanting to drop the grip on your thighs to hold him instead.

Wonwoo reads you like a book. “Go ahead,” he hisses between thrusts. 

“Thank you,” you gasp, dropping your legs in favor of sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails scratching his scalp. You feel him shiver and you do it again, pulling his face to you so that you can brush your mouth against his, barely a kiss. “Fuuuuuuck, Wonwoo I-”

“I know.” 

“Close close close.”

He doesn’t pick up his pace but he throws his weight into you more, fucking you deep and hard. You see stars, squeezing your eyes shut as you slide against one another, muscles aching, lungs screaming. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t care, skating the line of your second orgasm so close.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Your breath scrapes your throat. There is a moment of absolute nothing but white noise and then you’re crashing, slamming into your orgasm with enough force to knock your head with his when you lurch forward.

It doesn’t even hurt, the electric pleasure outweighing the knock to your head as his fingers dig into your shoulders, cradling you harder as he pistons faster, getting himself to peak. You go limp, held tilted back as he growls your name and loses a rhythm, breath hissing between his teeth. 

For a moment everything is disjointed until he slows to a stop, letting you unfold but pressing his body down onto yours. His weight is comforting, grounding you as your thoughts wander, a little confused and without navigation as your system reboots from the orgasm, tired and staticky. 

Wonwoo kisses your jaw lightly, a gentle contrast to seconds ago when he folded you in half. 

Slowly, he slides to the side, giving you room to breathe. Your body is slick all over - especially between your legs - and the room cools your overwarm skin. You crane your neck to face him, eyes fluttering open as you come back to, a little more lucid. 

His dark eyes find yours and he grins before tossing an arm over your waist just to keep you connected. You place your hand on his arm, returning the gesture, just wanting to touch him. 

“I think I died,” you joke, voice rough. “God.” 

“Yeah? Hey chat,” Wonwoo hums, a grin splitting his face. “How about that for rizz?” 

-

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[homunculus-argument]

It can also help to remember there's no universal or 'correct' amount of time that it takes to process one's emotions - it's different for everyone. Like in extreme cases with something like grief, or more specifically losing someone. Someone might want to completely pretend everything is fine, some people might cry and need emotional support every day for quite some time, some people might need a combo of the two, and there are millions of other types of reactions. In a situation like that, where a death cannot be undone or fixed, don't you think it makes sense people would need to talk about it and process it? That same thing also applies to less serious situations. We're social animals who seek comfort in one another, and venting is basically that.

Is it in any way illuminating to what kind of a gap there is between us that I don't grieve? My father died when I was 17 and the only thing I felt about it was to be mildly relieved - he wasn't actively evil, not the kind of a person whose death you'd celebrate or anything, just the type whose presence in the room makes you wish he'd leave.

Other deaths in the family have meant even less than that to me. When my paternal grandfather died, the biggest emotion I felt was annoyed - I had pastel pink hair around that time, and I was just done dyeing my hair back to my natural colour in order to be presentable for the funeral, when my mom informed me that actually my aunt already arranged the funeral herself and didn't invite us. And mom had fucking watched me ruin a hair colour that was so hard to achieve and expensive to do in order to attend an event that she knew was already over and we weren't even invited to????

When my paternal grandmother died, I felt mildly guilty of being relieved. She was the only family member I ever felt bad for, even if I didn't like her. Her life had been nothing but misery from the beginning to the end, to the point where my sister snickered at her funeral over how badly the priest was lying through his teeth trying to paint grandma's life as something worth living. She didn't ~meet her future husband~ in the city, she got knocked up by accident and had a shotgun wedding with a mean-spirited, violent alcoholic. The same aunt who didn't invite us to granddad's funeral didn't attend, saying she didn't want to fly to Finland "when the weather is so miserable". My father's mother outlived two of her three children and the last one didn't bother attending her funeral.

I didn't attend that aunt's funeral. Fuck her.

When my mother's father died, I didn't really feel like it was my obligation to mourn. He was the family patriarch, who had four children and seven grandchildren, a respected member of the communities he belonged in, and one hunting dog magazine published an article about how a great man of the field had died. I felt like other people were already doing enough. Mom spent his entire funeral fussing over whether I'm wearing or holding my hat right. He was buried on a stinging cold winter day where it physically hurt to be bareheaded outdoors, and I was counting minutes until I'd be allowed to either get back inside or put the shitty little formal funeral-appropriate cap (which mom made me buy, saying my normal warm solid black winter hat was too frivolous) back on my head.

Her fucking father died and she spent the whole time fussing over my unacceptable hat. I won't care when she dies and won't attend her funeral.

[tannedalien]

HAZBIN HOTEL X READER HC #1

Head canon: what it would be like to date them.

characters: Alastor, angel dust, husk, vox

disclaimer: everything i write about these characters might not be accurate to the actual story, please take everything in the fic with a grain of salt, none of this is canon!!

Alastor

he hasnt been in an actual relationship in a while so being close and vulnerable with someone is quite hard for him, especially as someone who associates emotions with weakness.

First off, its safe to say he adores the ground you walk on. He's in love with everything about you, your clothes, the smell of your hair, your sickly sweet voice. his loves it all.

If there was ever a problem you needed fixing, a person you needed taken care of or even a errand you needed to run he would tend to it himself. he would not let you lift a finger.

PDA is a iffy thing for him, he wouldnt do grand big gestures but maybe a hand on the hip or a few words of affirmation.

everyone in the pride ring quickly learned of yours and radio demon's relationship. And no one dared to mess with you, ofcourse there was people who wanted to test their luck but they would have to pay the price later.

his love language is definitely words of affirmation, he will sweet talk the shit out of you. At night when it's just you two in bed, he will have his hands stroking through your hair whilst you rant to him about your day and he'll reply with sweet nothings

"oh darling, i've missed you all evening"

"you looked ravishing today my dear.."

"mm your hair smells amazing, my love"

Angel Dust

Angel is one of, if not, the horniest mother fuckers out there but somehow, he manages to somewhat make a healthy relationship with someone.

you two are seen as "the bad bitch" couple. you're always out together, always getting into dumb shit together. You'll get yelled at by vaggie at early hours in the morning because the two of you where playing a childish game of tag in the hotel halls.

his love language is definitely physical touch, he'll have his arms slung around your waist almost all the time. Kisses are a MUST every 5 minutes, like this boy will NOT part from you. especially in the mornings when you have to leave for work;

"mmnnnnoooooooo...stayyy for five minutes pleasseeeee"

"but sweets..you're soooo warm"

"sweetheart please, you feel so comfy"

yeah good luck with that.

nights with him are VERY eventful, if it wasn't obvious. You two would usually be at it late hours into the night but sometimes, when you two where too exhausted to fuck like rabbits, he would be sprawled across your lap whilst you stroked his fur.

Husk

Despite his harsh tone and uncompromising demeanor, you understood that Husk wasn't trying to be malicious towards you. It was simply his way of communicating, and you knew that his behavior wasn't personal. Even though he could be abrasive at times, you loved him for his rough edges and authentic personality

You and Husk's time together was mostly spent at the bar. You didn't like to drink much, but you loved seeing him work and make cocktails like a pro. You didn't mind that it wasn't considered a typical date, because you liked spending time with him in whatever way he felt most comfortable.

Husk is not used to receiving compliments, as he didn't often receive them in his past life. When you complimented him, it caught him off guard and he was surprised. But he eventually learned to appreciate it, and it even made him feel a little sentimental.

Despite the difficulty, you were able to help Husk realize that you genuinely cared about him. He had been used to being surrounded by dishonesty and hypocrisy, but you were always sincere and real. He held you in high regard, as you were the only source of light in his life, and he didn't want to lose you.

vox

You were known as a strong and independent person who didn't need assistance from others. You knew how to stand up for yourself, despite being harsh and tough at times. Despite your exterior, no one was aware of the soft spot in your heart that Vox's affection and touch alone could melt away your severity.

He appreciated seeing your affectionate side, as it felt special and intimate, like a shared secret between the two of you. He knew you valued your privacy, and he respected it by never sharing photos or other details on social media. He didn't want to betray your trust.

You were often feared and respected when you were with Vox. People found it hard to believe that someone as intimidating as yourself could have a tender, caring side that was kept hidden from most. Vox was glad that he was the only one who got to see that side of you. He didn't want to share something so special and personal with anyone else.

Quite often, he would call you on the phone, knowing that sweet words could be just as effective as a kiss. He enjoyed hearing how your voice softened from its usual seriousness to a more affectionate tone. He was aware that when he said loving phrases to you, you would blush and smile shyly, and sometimes he even regretted not being able to witness it in person.

"i've missed you today babe.."

"mhm look at my pretty girl/boy!"

[aventurineswife]

Reader flinches during an argument😩🤚

You cna make it just flinching or them actually accidentally hurting reader, whatever you're more comfortable with

Characters: Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Kaveh and Therta (get it? Cuz The Herta can be shortened to Therta... haha... ha)

Trust Reforged in the Quiet

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, The Herta x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Emotional Vulnerability, Arguments, Flinching Reaction, Apologies, Reconciliation, Romantic Tension, Communication, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Emotional conflict, Raised voices, Accidental intimidation, Mentions of guilt and emotional vulnerability. (No physical harm or abuse.)

A/N: yeah... I totally got it, ahahaha.. ha 🧍‍♀️

The peaceful glow of the Luofu was overshadowed by the tense atmosphere between you and Jing Yuan. The General stood in his study, his eyes fixed on you, frustration flickering behind their usual calm. The argument had started small, but it spiraled into something you hadn’t anticipated.

“You don’t understand the weight of these decisions,” Jing Yuan said, his tone sharper than usual. “Every action has consequences—not just for us, but for the entire Alliance.”

“I’m trying to help you!” you shot back, voice trembling. “But you keep shutting me out like I’m just an outsider!”

Jing Yuan ran a hand through his long hair, visibly exasperated. “It’s not about shutting you out—it’s about protecting you. Don’t you see that?”

When he suddenly stepped closer, his voice louder than before, you instinctively flinched, taking a step back. His eyes widened, his anger evaporating in an instant.

“Wait…” His voice softened. “Did you just flinch?”

You looked down, ashamed. The moment hung heavy in the air. Jing Yuan’s heart ached at the sight of you retreating from him, and he cursed himself for letting his emotions overwhelm his judgment.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, his hands hovering before dropping to his sides. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He took a step back himself, giving you space. “I would never hurt you.”

You hesitated before nodding, your eyes still wary. Jing Yuan took a deep breath, his usual calm returning. He walked to his desk, retrieved a cup of tea, and set it down in front of you.

“Let’s talk—properly this time,” he said, his voice steady but laced with remorse. “I want to listen to you, truly.”

And for the first time that evening, you felt safe enough to let him in.

The opulent office felt suffocating as Aventurine paced back and forth, his normally suave demeanor unraveling. You had challenged one of his high-stakes decisions, and he hadn’t taken it well.

“You think I didn’t calculate the risks?” he barked, his voice sharp as a blade. “You think I don’t know exactly what I’m doing?”

“I’m saying it’s dangerous, Aventurine!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You can’t keep gambling with people’s lives like this!”

His eyes burned with frustration. “You don’t understand the game I’m playing! Every move I make is—”

When he spun to face you, gesturing emphatically, you flinched, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. The slight recoil stopped Aventurine mid-sentence. His hand, frozen mid-air, dropped to his side.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, his voice came out softer, almost unsure. “Did I… scare you?”

You didn’t respond immediately, and that was answer enough. Aventurine’s usually confident mask cracked, revealing the guilt underneath. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone devoid of its usual bravado. “I let my temper get the better of me.”

You crossed your arms, your voice shaky. “I just want you to see that I care, Aventurine. You don’t have to face everything alone.”

He chuckled dryly, his smile weak but genuine. “It seems I’m the one who needs a reminder of that sometimes.” He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours. “Can we try this again? No shouting this time.”

You nodded, and as he led you to sit beside him, the gambler seemed determined to show you he was more than just his sharp words and risky strategies.

The gentle hum of the Astral Express felt distant as you and Dan Heng faced off in the library. He rarely raised his voice, but tonight, his frustration was palpable.

“You can’t just rush into danger like that!” Dan Heng exclaimed, his voice uncharacteristically forceful. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I was trying to help!” you defended, equally upset. “You always act like I can’t handle myself!”

“Because you don’t see the risks!” He stepped forward, his hand clutching his spear. “What if something had happened to you? Do you think I could—”

When his voice rose further, and his spear clinked against the floor as he adjusted his grip, you flinched, taking a step back. Dan Heng immediately froze, his sharp eyes widening in realization. The air grew heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

“You…” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He set his spear down, his hands shaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to… I would never—”

You looked away, biting your lip. “It’s fine. I just… wasn’t expecting you to—”

“No, it’s not fine,” he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with guilt. “I lost control. That’s on me.”

Dan Heng lowered himself to sit on the edge of the table, his posture uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I don’t want to push you away. I’m just… scared of losing you.”

You hesitated before stepping closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m scared too, but we need to face this together. You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

He nodded, his usual calm slowly returning. “You’re right. I’ll… do better.”

In that moment, you saw the real Dan Heng—not the stoic guardian, but the man who carried the weight of the past and feared losing the one person who made him feel safe.

The grandiose living room of Alhaitham's home felt oppressive as your argument with Kaveh escalated. He stood in the middle of the room, his expressive eyes alight with frustration. You had challenged one of his decisions, and his idealistic nature didn’t take it lightly.

“You don’t understand what this means to me!” Kaveh exclaimed, his voice shaking. “I worked my entire life to make a difference through my designs! And now you’re questioning that?”

“I’m not questioning your work, Kaveh,” you said, your voice tinged with desperation. “I’m worried about you! You’re pushing yourself too hard, taking on too much—”

“Because I have to!” he shouted, his hands flaring in an animated gesture. “If I don’t, who will? Do you think anyone else cares as much as I do?” He stepped closer, his tone growing sharper as he continued. “Stop acting like you—”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. You flinched, taking a small step back as his voice rose and his movements became more animated. The action stopped him in his tracks, the weight of the moment crashing down around him like a crumbling structure.

His arms dropped to his sides, and his face fell. “Did… did I scare you?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet and laced with regret.

You didn’t reply immediately, your throat tight with emotion. “I—I didn’t mean to—” you started, but Kaveh shook his head, cutting you off.

“No,” he said firmly, his tone filled with self-reproach. “This isn’t on you. I… I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” He took a step back, giving you space, his eyes filled with guilt. “I never meant to make you feel unsafe.”

“Kaveh…” you began, your voice softening.

He turned away briefly, running a hand through his hair. “I let my emotions get the better of me. Again. It’s just… everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I’m trying so hard to hold it together.”

You stepped forward hesitantly, placing a hand on his arm. “I know you’re trying, Kaveh. But you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself.”

He looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just… I don’t know how to let go. But I don’t ever want to hurt you, not even by accident.”

“You won’t,” you assured him, squeezing his arm gently. “But you need to let yourself rest, Kaveh. Let yourself breathe.”

He nodded slowly, his usual dramatic flair subdued by the gravity of the moment. “You’re right. I’ll… I’ll try. For you.”

And as the tension eased, you saw in his eyes the vulnerability he often tried to mask with passion and idealism—a man who cared so deeply, it sometimes consumed him.

The sterile halls of Herta’s spaceship echoed with the sharp edge of your argument. Herta stood before her console, her fingers tapping impatiently on its surface as she glared at you.

“Do you even understand the magnitude of what I’m trying to achieve here?” she asked, her tone biting. “This isn’t just some experiment—it’s a breakthrough!”

“I do understand,” you replied, your voice raised. “But you’re so focused on the outcome that you’re ignoring the risks!”

Herta’s eyes narrowed as she whirled around to face you, her movements swift and deliberate. “Risks are inevitable in science! If I stopped every time something was dangerous, we wouldn’t even have the Simulated Universe! You—” She gestured sharply, stepping closer as her voice grew louder.

The suddenness of her movement made you flinch, your shoulders tensing as you instinctively stepped back. The reaction was subtle but unmistakable. Herta froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening in realization.

She stared at you for a long moment, the tension in her posture dissipating. “Wait… did I just… scare you?” she asked, her voice unusually soft.

You looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Herta shook her head, her usual detached demeanor cracking. “No, it’s not fine,” she said, setting her clipboard aside. “I might be a genius, but that doesn’t give me the right to… intimidate you like that.”

You glanced at her, surprised by the remorse in her tone. “Herta…”

She crossed her arms, avoiding your eyes as she spoke. “I get so caught up in my work, I forget about the people around me. I’m sorry.” She sighed, her sharp wit returning slightly. “It seems even I have room for improvement.”

You chuckled softly despite the tension. “You think?”

She smiled faintly, stepping closer but keeping her movements slow and deliberate. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll explain everything properly this time—no yelling, no dramatics.”

You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening. “I’d like that.”

As she guided you to her desk, the usual confidence in her demeanor was tempered by a quiet sincerity. For the first time, you saw the side of Herta that wasn’t just a genius or a scientist, but someone who valued your trust more than any experiment.

[dear-aubade]

Oh my good God your writing is absolutely fabulousssss 🤤 The way you write about Joel and his baby girl is sending me into orbit!!! Genuinely I cannot wait to read more of your work 😍 Do you think that you would ever do one where Joel comforts his baby if she got jealous? There’s a few different ways this could go but the idea of him comforting his sweet girl when she’s upset over something like seeing another woman in Jackson hit on him or something makes me think terrible, nsfw thoughts 😆🩷🎀

This was so fun to write, thank you for the ask anon! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: When you see a woman making a move on Joel and storm out in a flurry of tears, Joel realizes exactly how much he’s been neglecting his baby. He’s determined to make it up to you.

Notes: Smut, oral (f receiving), dom!joel, sub!reader, praise, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, babygirl, little girl, honey, darling, any fanfic-typical nickname Joel has for reader), jealous!reader, oblivious!joel (sorta), semi-public, implied age gap

You were fuming.

It was Tommy’s birthday and Maria had decided to invite the entire town of Jackson to the Tipsy Bison that night to celebrate. The bar was lively with the hum of chatter and small talk, the smell of whiskey and beer curling in the air, paper lanterns hung in a zig-zag pattern across the ceiling.

Normally you would have loved to go out like this. It gave you an excuse to dress up all pretty and do your makeup, maybe even get Joel to abandon his stone-faced stoic facade and go dancing with you after he’d had a couple drinks.

Except for the fact that the night had gotten off to a horrible start.

The past few weeks Joel had been busy. Very busy. Which you didn’t blame him for, of course—he was one of the town’s strongest working men and the people needed him to help with patrol. But recently a worker at the Bison had sprained his ankle and Seth had asked Joel to help cover him while he healed, which meant that now Joel was gone during the day for patrol and several nights during the week while he fixed barstools or whatever it was Seth had him working on.

The nights he actually was home, he usually went straight to bed with you after placing a kiss to your lips and gave a murmured, “Goodnight.” You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched you, really touched you.

And you knew that Joel was a good man, that the reason he was so exhausted all the time now was because he was doing work for the community.

It didn’t stop his girl from getting a little needy and missing him.

Tonight you had taken advantage of the outing. You’d made sure to do your makeup immaculately, with your lips glossed and eyes lined to make them look all doe-like and pretty, how Joel liked them. You’d curled your hair and pinned the top part of it back in a half-updo with a white satin bow. You’d even worn a new dress that you’d traded for a couple days before. It was baby pink, hugging your bust and waist before flaring out the smallest bit around your hips. The short hem paired with your white heels showed off your legs very nicely.

You’d thought that maybe if you put enough effort into your appearance tonight, Joel would want to touch you no matter how tired he was.

Unfortunately, so much self-grooming had caused you and Joel to be a little late, which meant rushing out the door and speed-walking over to the Bison so you two weren’t more tardy than you already were, which meant there wasn’t time for Joel to appreciate his princess in her pretty dress.

Now that you guys were here at the bar, he was hardly looking at you. His large hand was still holding yours so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but he hadn’t even said anything about how you looked tonight. Did he even care? It made you want to whine and cry or stamp your little heeled foot against the floor until he paid attention to you.

But you didn’t. You wanted to be his good girl…and you didn’t want to ruin Tommy’s birthday, either, by making a scene.

Joel kept craning his neck around to look for his brother, and when he found Tommy and Maria standing at the bar, he guided you over with him with a hand on the small of your back.

“Joel!” Tommy exclaimed, expression bright as he embraced his brother—overly bright. It was clear he’d already had a few glasses.

Joel slapped Tommy on the back. “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” you said softly right as Maria was thanking the both of you for coming.

“What did you get me?” Tommy asked his brother.

Joel grunted as he put his hand back on your waist. “Right to the point, aren’t you?”

“A book? A shirt? A razor? I’ve been needin’ a new one of those, mine broke just yesterday—“

“Boots,” Joel said. “Traded for ‘em last week. They’re back at the house.”

Tommy grinned. “Awe, now you’ve just ruined the surprise.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Tommy—“

“Oh, that reminds me! There’s somethin’ I need to show you real quick.” Tommy turned to you. “Mind if I borrow him for a few?”

You frowned. “Well—“

Without waiting for a response Tommy dragged Joel away, heading for some unseen destination across the bar. You couldn’t tell where they were going from your position in the crowd. You tried not to wilt.

A moment later Maria handed you a drink. “You look nice,” she commented.

“At least someone noticed,” you grumbled, taking a sip. The alcohol burned your throat.

“Joel giving you trouble?”

You shrugged.

Maria waited for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, she pressed. “I was going to go sit with some friends over there.” She gestured to her right somewhere. “Want to join?”

You sighed, then shook your head. “I don’t think so. Thank you Maria, but I don’t want my mood to infect your guys’.”

“Well…alright. If you’re sure.” And with that, she left you to your own devices.

It had been hours. Or…maybe a half hour. Forty five minutes? You weren’t sure. Enough time for you to have made a home for yourself on one of the barstools with several now-empty liquor glasses in front of you.

And Joel still wasn’t back.

Your toes were starting to go numb in your tight shoes even just sitting there, so you huffed and got to your feet—you only swayed a little. You were determined to find Joel and make him dance with you.

You weaved in and out of the crowd as you searched. Where had Tommy taken Joel? Was it….this way? That way? You couldn’t think very clearly right now. How many glasses had you….?

You finally spotted the back of Joel’s head through the throng of partygoers. Your eyes lit up and you started to move in that direction, ready to tug on Joel’s hand and stand on your tiptoes for a kiss. Why had you even been upset again?

You squirmed between two people to move closer and—

There was a woman beside Joel. She had honey brown hair and keen, wise eyes. She was older than you—much older. Closer to Joel’s age. Her name was Sharon…Shannon…something?

You froze as she laughed at something someone said and put a hand on Joel’s arm.

Your eyes went wide and you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or start crying. Joel suddenly turned his head and met your gaze.

Your body decided for you. Tears pooled on your lashes and you turned to duck out of the bar before you made even more of a fool of yourself.

The crisp, cool night air greeted you as you escaped the Tipsy Bison’s warmth. You sniffled and kept walking, not even really sure where you were going.

“Darlin’?” Joel’s voice reached you and you heard footsteps from behind.

You sped up.

But Joel was Joel, and so he quickly caught up to you with his long legs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Not now, Joel.”

“Hey.” He grabbed you and turned you around, his grip gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“Get offa me,” you protested, trying to push away.

“What’re you…” He paused. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you whined. You broke out of his grip and kept walking, turning around the corner of the Bison and walking around the back of the building. “Leave me alone.”

“Baby.”

At his tone you stopped. Even though you were embarrassed and upset and didn’t want to see his face, a small part of you still wanted to be obedient.

He came around your front and lifted your chin so you were looking up at him. His stern gaze melted away and his eyes softened. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. “What’s wrong?” You sniffled and took a step back. His hand fell away.

“What’s wrong is that you don’t pay attention to me anymore. You work all day and all night and it feels like you hardly have time for me now. I even got all dressed up tonight for you, wore a new dress and everything, a-and you didn’t say anything, didn’t even look—“

You blinked and more tears ran down your face. “And now I jus’ saw Sharon or Shannon or whoever that woman was flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything—”

You cut off as your face crumpled. You looked down, shivering from the cold.

“I know she’s older and…and probably smarter, and she—”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart.” Joel tenderly gripped your upper arms, ducking his head to try and get you to meet your gaze. “What…what are you thinkin’? You think she could ever compare to my babygirl?”

You opened your mouth to respond but he prattled on before you had the chance. “The moment she touched me I pulled away. I don’t know if you didn’t see or what, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often. It’s just until Seth’s friend heals up that I’ll be gone. I should be out of bar duty by next week.”

“And what about tonight?” you whined.

At that, Joel smiled. “You really think I didn’t notice how pretty you looked, sweet girl? I was trying not to get a hard on in the middle of Tommy’s party.”

You almost smiled. Almost. But you were still mad about Shannon, and you still felt needy and lonely and you were pretty sure you were way more than tipsy and you still kind of felt like punching Joel in his handsome face a little bit.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry that I made my baby feel alone….and needy…and neglected…” He punctuated each word with a kiss to a different part of your face—your cheek, your nose, your lips.

Now that you were alone, Joel’s eyes roved over your body shamelessly. “Look at you….” he cooed. “So beautiful.” His hands fell to your waist. “And this pretty new dress.” His eyes looked lower, down to your feet, and he grinned. “Your shoes match your bow. You said you dressed up just for me?”

You sniffed and nodded. “M’still a little mad at you.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He kissed your jaw. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

That sobered you up real quick. “Wh….here?”

“Why not?” Joel pressed your back to the wall of the building. “No one’s around.”

“But someone could—”

“Shhh.” He kissed lower this time, at the skin beneath your jaw. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He pressed a kiss lower. “I’m going to make my little girl feel good right here and now so she doesn’t have to wait another minute.” Another kiss. “After that I’m gonna carry her back to our bed….” Another. “And there I’m gonna make love to her until she gets absolutely sick of it.”

You squirmed as his beard dragged along your skin the lower and lower he kissed, lips now at your collarbone. “I-I don’t know if I’d ever get sick of it….”

He nipped at your skin and you gasped. “Then you had better have enough energy to be up all night, sweetheart.”

Joel kissed down the center of your clavicle, the middle of your breasts, down your tummy over your dress….soon he was kneeling before you, looking up to meet your gaze with those dark brown eyes of his.

“Joel—” you said, still a bit uncertain.

“Lean back against the wall, babygirl.”

You hesitated, but obeyed. Any complaints or protests you had against the situation dissolved as soon as Joel lifted one of your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

His lips traveled upward. He kissed along your calf….the inside of your knee…your thigh….soon he pressed the skirt of your dress up to your waist.

He paused.

Then:

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was nearly a groan. His eyes flicked up to yours. “No panties?”

You smiled shyly. The truth was you’d forgotten almost entirely about that—it had been a quick last minute decision to forego wearing anything beneath your dress, but seeing his eyes dark with lust now….you definitely did not regret it.

“I’m a little glad I didn’t have time to look you over properly before coming here,” he murmured, lips skimming your hip bone. “If I knew you weren’t wearin’ anything under this we would have never left the house.”

You could feel his breath on your inner thigh now as he moved his head and you whimpered. “Joel.”

“Shhh, no whining honey, ‘less it’s about how good it feels.” He placed a kiss right above the patch of skin above your bud. “Just let that pretty head of yours empty—I’ll take care of you.”

Whatever you were about to say in response left your head as Joel hiked your leg over his shoulder and started to lick at your clit.

You gasped and one of your hands threaded through his salt and pepper curls to steady yourself. His tongue flicked against your swollen, needy button teasingly. Your lower belly simmered with the heat of crackling coals.

Joel’s large hand found purchase on your hip and he squeezed in response to each noise that escaped you. He was soon embracing you with his full mouth, tongue licking between your folds, at your bud, into you. It was as if he was everywhere, helping himself to your taste and enjoying every bit of it.

“Oh,” you sighed, pushing your hips into his mouth involuntarily and his head bobbed in time with his motions.

Each flick, each twist of his tongue had you nearly writhing, and you were pretty sure it was only Joel’s hand on your hip keeping you from collapsing.

“Joel, I—it’s—oh please, I can’t—” You were babbling mindlessly, head empty, unsure of what you were even really saying.

Joel just chuckled against you, the vibrations running through your core making you gasp.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured as he sucked and licked at your wetness. “‘S like you were made for me—just keep rockin’ your hips—oh, good girl.”

He lapped at you as you let out a high-pitched whine. You were there, right there, with his nose nudging at your clit and his warm wet tongue pushing into you and he was shaking his head and oh—

You bit your knuckle to muffle your moan as you came, your folds drenched, your lower belly warm, your legs shaking, your clit tingling.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Joel kept murmuring praises as you came down from your high, hips squirming from oversensitivity.

He placed soft and slow kisses on your right hip before rising and gripping your waist. Your legs nearly buckled.

Joel chuckled and caught you as you stumbled a bit, sweeping you up in his arms, the ease in which he lifted you making your belly swoop.

He pressed his lips to your hairline in an achingly sweet kiss. “How’s my girl feeling now?”

You let out a happy hum and rested your head on his shoulder. “Better.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he started to walk, carrying you like you were a princess. You supposed that you were, in a sort of way. You were his.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep yet, babygirl.”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drifting off until he had said something. It wasn’t your fault. The gentle sway of him walking with you had rocked you to sleep…

“Sorry.” You yawned.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, honey,” he said. He held you closer. “And you gotta stay awake with me. I got a lot more I wanna do to apologize to my princess.”

The low voice he used made your heart flutter.

You were in for a very long night.

[justagirlswrld]

Help me, invincible, you’re my only hope.

a/n: somebody asked for part 2 and i was like you know what hell yeah lmao. thanks for the likes and reposts!! feed back welcomed. (might delete kind of feel like it sucks lmao)

part 1

warnings: violence, arranged marriage, unprotected p in v. the usual sex stuff. porn w plot.

Mark is sprawled haphazardly across his bed, just reaching deep sleep when he’s jolted awake by the sound of what he thinks is an injured cat.

His head is pounding when he finally finds a thin device wrapped up in a shirt underneath his bed twenty minutes later. He can’t figure out how to stop the aggravating noise and is ready to rip it in half when he remembers what it is.

You had given him the technology the day he left Soloria. Your nimble fingers briefly showing him how to use it to communicate with you. When he finally got it to work the screeching stops and the screen comes to life with the same pale, yellow energy from the transporter.

To Mark’s surprise you appear from the device as a hologram, your skin pastel yellow instead of your usual hues of pink. “This is so cool.”, Mark says in awe.

“Mark Grayson?”, your voice is almost a whisper.

“Just Mark, Y/N.”, Mark sits the tablet down on his desk before standing in front of it. He wants to bring up how you said you’d send a ‘transmission’ before he came back to Earth two months ago. But then he starts thinking of your mouth stretched around his length and you have to call his name twice to get his attention.

“This is of the most Importance, Mark. I need your help.” Mark crosses his arms, half of him wants to tell you yes so he can finish the simple task and have his face buried in your sweet cunt for another three months. The other half of him is mad that you were just now calling.

Mark’s pride outweighs his lust and you watch as his hologram shakes his head no.

“No? You can’t say no, you are invincible, defender of the helpless.”, Desperation laces your words but Mark doesn’t pick up on it, all the blood had rushed from his head to his dick while he was reminiscing about his time with you.

“I’m not in my suit.”, Mark picks the device up, fixes his semi in his pajama pants then lays back on the bed, “…And you didn’t send me a transmission for two months, what’s so important now?”

Your hologram sighs, “I deeply apologize, Mark. I meant to send a transmission sooner but you know I had to marry-“, Mark’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He’d completely forgot that you were forced to marry an arranged suitor once your tryst was over. He didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.

“A wedding is a month long celebration on my planet, I’m contacting you at my earliest opportunity.” Mark is listening to you but he’s also trying to ignore the feeling of jealousy coursing through him. “This is why i’m communicating with you now, Mark.”

You explain to him that you’ve married a tyrant, how he wants to enslave your people and destroy your planet.

Mark’s thick brows pull together, “Isn’t that what Edolan said when he lied for you?” Mark continues with a smirk on his full lips, “You don’t have to tell me your planet is going to be destroyed for me to come fuck you.” He meant every word too. He’d been thinking about you since he’d left and was getting tired of his hand.

“This is not about pleasure, Mark. My people are in peril and you are the only one who can stop this monster-,” You grunt disdainfully before continuing, “I tried to eliminate him myself but he was stronger than I thought. I’m now a prisoner in my own home.”, The whole statement takes Mark completely aback. He’s still not convinced that you weren’t just saying this for some dick but he agrees to come anyway.

You explain to Mark how to transport with the thin device before ending the transmission. Mark wonders if he should come naked incase you transport him directly to your room but ends up suiting up.

When Mark’s feet hit cobblestone, he takes in Soloria with a smirk. Besides the kids that usually play in the streams near the courtyard nothing seemed out of place. He knew it was just a booty call, not that he was mad. He’d just have to teach you how to ask for dick like a normal…person.

Mark is gliding to the castle,thinking about what he wants to bend you over first when the castle’s huge doors fly open to reveal a brawny, orange man simmering with rage.

“My wife sent you to defeat me?! I laugh in your face! You can not stop me! I will enslave you and the rest of these Solorians-“, He balls his hand into a very, large fist. “And kill anyone who defies me.”

Before Mark can respond multiple wolf like creatures appear from thin air causing screams to errupt from the townspeople near him. The aliens snap at him with rows of sharp teeth, they’re ferocious as they try to latch onto him but it takes Mark minimal effort to defeat the animals.

“You’ve gotta come with something stronger than that!” Mark says taunting your ex husband as he pulls a beast in half, covering his suit in its silver blood.

Mark flies the rest of the distance to the castle. When he arrives your ex-husband is waiting for him, he’s trying to use his gargantuan body to block the castle doors.

Mark lands and walks over to the large stone steps with his palms raised, The Solorian towers over him with a sneer. Mark’s face fills with annoyance, he really wanted to get up to your room but someone always wanted to fight.

“Hey, man. Just go and don’t come back. I don’t want to hurt you.” Mark says, hands going to rest on his hips.

“Hurt me? A puny earthling could never!”, Mark kicks him into the far side of the castle, his body resembles a star fish when his back connects with the stone wall. Debris fall on his unconscious head. When winged guards fly from the castle he points in the direction of your ex husband and advises them to chain him up.

When you hear the commotion from outside your window you peek your head out of the room and smile cheerily while dancing with happiness when you see the orange man being put in chains.

You throw a lively party in Marks honor, it starts that afternoon and stretches into the wee hours of night. You’re completely fucked up by the time it’s over and Mark has to fly you back to your chambers, he lays you on your large bed gently before stripping off his suit.

When he turns back to you you’ve taken off the jeweled dress you wore. You were now completely naked save for the shimmering tiara in your hot pink hair.

“Invincible, my savior.”, You say sensually, crawling over to the side of the bed Mark was standing by. It sounds like the mead was leaving your system but Mark didn’t want to take advantage of you, his mom always said drunk people can’t consent.

It took his viltrumite strength to remove your pink hand from his crotch, he accidentally groans out loud when he sees you biting your lip in annoyance. “You no longer want to lay with me?” You ask as you sit back on your heels. Mark had been whispering vulgar things to you the whole party and you were giddy in anticipation.

It takes everything in Mark to not look down at your supple, bare skin. “N-No, I really want to lay with you but you had so much to drink.” You laugh, taking his large hand in yours then pulling him to sit on the bed beside you.

You rub your hand on his muscular thigh and tease your pink fingers under the leg of his boxers. “Mark Grayson, You worry too much above trivial things.” When you kiss him it’s all tongue and he thinks he might buss on the spot, luckily he doesn’t but he’s a panting mess when you pull away from him.

Mark uses the last ounce of his self control to stop your wandering hands. He was trying to show some restraint but god, he just wanted to slip into your tight walls. “I-Uh think we should wait till the morning. You had so much mead, Y/N.”

You ignore his words and slip onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips. You steady yourself by placing your hands on his lean shoulders, “Mark, please fuck me. I have not experienced pleasure since you were on Soloria….I feel like a virkin.”, your voice is whiny and breathless. You didn’t even realize you were grinding your wet cunt on his clothed erection until it started sending tingles down your spine.

Mark would’ve laughed in your face if he wasn’t so hard.

With his resolve weakened he can do nothing but lay back, muscular arms tucked under his head for comfort. He watches you with glazed eyes as you pull his boxers down enough to allow his hard cock to be set free.

You waste no time, sinking down on him with a moan. The stretch is so wonderful that it has you wondering why you didn’t follow him to Earth instead of getting married.

You place both hands on his chiseled stomach for purchase as you raise yourself up on your toes, bringing your wet cunt down on him roughly. This pulls moans from both of you, Mark has to force his eyes open to watch as you ride him. He wants to remember the image of your soaking cunt sliding up and down his cock in the moonlight for the rest of his life.

Mark allows you to stay on top of him until he notices your feet becoming wobbly. He sits up and instructs you to lay on your back.

Once you’re lying on the soft covers, Mark positions himself in front of you, kneeling on his heels while he takes your legs and throws both over his shoulder. He keeps them together as he pulls your lips apart, teasing you both by sliding his length back and forth between your wet folds.

Mark’s tip bumps into your nub with every soft thrust and it sends your toes curling. He notices the appendages and can’t help but to bend your leg some and pop them in his mouth, licking and moaning around them as he slides into your warmth.

You let out a whine that turns into a breathy moan when his hips meet yours. Mark licks your toes one last time before moving your leg to its original place on his shoulder.

Mark’s strokes are deep and well paced. Each one has you crying out as he repeatedly bumps your cervix and brushes against spots deep inside you that you didn’t know existed.

You grip the covers and throw your head back in ecstasy as Mark ruts into you, breath hitching and back arching as he begins rubbing hard circles on your swollen clit.

You cry out when your release sneaks up on you. Your thighs tremble as Mark flips you on your stomach then sinks his hard cock back into your spasming sex. You cry out, voice carrying in the open space of your room.

Mark kisses and suck’s your neck as he chases his own release, his voice is breathless and warm as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Through your lust induced haze you swear you hear him say that you should’ve married him instead of your ex husband but your approaching orgasm steals your attention.

Mark’s head drops into the crook of your neck as your cunt convulses around him. He thinks about pulling out but it’s like your soft walls pull him in deeper and deeper, you clench around him once more and his eyes are rolling back as he comes. He has to fist his hands in the covers to ground himself.

He pulls out of you slowly and moans at the sight of his release leaking out of your puffy cunt.

Mark is lying on his back, trying to catch his breath when you start speaking to him, your breathing just as haggard as his. He’d assumed you’d fallen asleep.

“Did you offer to marry me?” You ask Mark, watching his blushing face with the help of the moonlight. “Wh-what? no.”, he stutters out, he looks anywhere but at you as he fluffs a pillow on your bed.

“Are you being deceitful Mark Grayson?”, you scoot over to where he’s lying and press your sweaty body against his. You whisper in his ear and watch as he shivers, “If you were serious during our throes of passion I accept your offer but I would need to get adjusted to earth first.” He wraps his arm around your neck, biceps bulging as he pulls you closer. “Let’s talk about dating first.” Mark says through a yawn. You knit your brows together in confusion, “What is dating?”

[justanotherpjofan]

You know most of the time people get angry at Cale because he can't for the life of him communicate things as they are, specifically regarding his health and seems to be unable to register his family worries for him.

And to that I said, of fucking course, his whole life on earth was horrible and he didn't develop emotionally because let's do a quick recap:

His parents died.

His abusive uncle took him in

He ended up in an orphanage.

When he was twenty the world collapsed.

He was bullied because he didn't have abilities.

Then the shelter he was in was destroyed

Once again he was alone until he met with LSH and CJS and let's not forget he was already 20 something.

Not long after they died as well.

Then he closed off with everyone because he didn't want to get attached just to lose them again.

He woke up in a novel

GoD confirmed he was supposed to die not CJS nor LSH.

He had to face his past again due to SG test.

...Well you get my point by now he was a little too busy surviving for him to actually develop self worth, most of his life he learned he wasn't someone who deserves affection or care and unfortunately no one said otherwise and if they did they die leaving him worse than before.

So it is no wonder he keeps things to himself all the time, after all why would others worry about him it makes no sense? At least from his pov.

That's why he is so detached at the beginning, still he can't help but try fixing things because it is the only action he knows

Surviving and saving others is so deeply engrained in him that unknowingly he keeps getting in a bigger mess. He got attached against his best efforts and gives more than he can take because he is not used to getting, the people who ever gave him anything always ended up dying before he could understand being emotional or plainly having emotions is normal.

[akascow]

i keep thinking about the end of this post i made lmfao:

"i like that in the last battle he just accepts it: realizes hes in the same position as future jayce, but just closes his eyes... he knew the only way to get through to viktor wasnt through fighting, but talking. which has been the basis of both of their worldviews for the whole show,, which is WHY IT WORKED"

bc wow i kinda cooked with that one HAHA

(also it like totally relates to the act3 message about how killing is a cycle and the only way to stop the killing is to literally Stop The Killing lmao)

but like, to elaborate on it i just think its so significant given that jayce and viktor were always opposed to killing others or using hextech against ppl less equipped:

-jayce's anti shimmer plan crumbles the second he accidentally kills a zaunite child.

-viktor adamantly opposes the idea of building weapons the entire first season because theyre scientists, not soldiers.

-jayce throws up and almost has a panic attack seeing a bunch of enforcers stain the bridge with blood after the firelight bombs.

-viktor abandons his whole hexcore idea the moment sky dies from it, begging jayce to destroy it

-jayce completely disagrees in the use of hextech weapons even after viktor dies from the attack on the council

their goal was always to use hextech to help, not hurt.

and yes they do stray from that ideology a couple times bc of like,, moments of weakness or wtvr lol:

viktor in his Machine Herald basically killing the body and leaving the soul of everyone who joins his cult i mean harem i mean community,, ((although im pretty certain the hexcore was kinda like a virus- influencing his actions with the main goal of spreading,, and i truly believe he genuinely thought he was helping people and not like, literally killing them lol))

and jayce making some weapons for the strike team later, but you can see hes clearly distraught from breaking another promise to viktor (his wound literally reopens as a metaphor lmao)

and they try to fight each other in order to share their disagreement of the other's actions, viktor tries to make jayce see his vision, doesnt work, he tries to choke him to death. jayce tries to make viktor see that what hes doing is wrong, doesnt work, he blasts vik's puppets with his hammer lmao.

but what does work ? putting down the weapons. in the end they accomplish the mutual goal without violence. mainly because they literally cannot bring themselves to kill the other but

they never really wanted to fight, no less kill, each other in the first place. because they shared that mutual worldview, they were never in favor of violence against their enemies. both of them even show regret while trying to kill each other too. jayce's anomaly screaming trying to pull away from blasting viktor in the chest, and viktor failing to persuade jayce to his side, voicing his apology before attempting to kill him.

jayce gets to the tower and sees hes in the same position as his future self. realizing he cant beat viktor like this, and everything he saw in the future timeline is inevitable, he closes his eyes, tired from fighting. but what does viktor do? does he kill him? turn him into a puppet like the others? no, viktor lets him into his world, letting him see what he sees.

viktor shares his motivation, humanity's weaknesses causes senseless war. but instead of arguing at that, jayce just talks to him, sharing his words of affection. yes humaity has weakness, but what viktor always viewed as weakness is actually what makes people admirable. and jayce hugs him, he shows viktor the truth of what is to come continuing this path, letting viktor know what he knows.

and thats how viktor breaks free. with a hug. practically the exact opposite of violence.

and again, they fix their mistake together, holding hands and embracing each other, sharing that pain and guilt of the fact that they did hurt people, and choosing to take themselves out in pursuit of correcting that mistake.

...and isnt that just beautiful HAHA

[peace-hunter]

Hey! How’s it going?

I was just wondering what are the dynamics between Optimus and his thirteen ghostie siblings individually?

haunted au

oh boi.

i'm gonna warn you, there's some dynamics i've given more thought to than others and it shows. sorry about that.

also this got very, very long so i'm gonna put it under a read more.

okay here we go:

1- zeta is the strict older brother trying to keep OP alive at almost any cost. he still feels guilty for leading his siblings to their deaths and is maybe trying to atone for it by doing everything he can to get OP through a war. this mostly means pushing him harder than the rest of their siblings, because he wants OP to handle anything that comes his way.

and OP really wants to make zeta proud. he's low-key still in shock at receiving the Matrix and terrified of messing up in a way he can't fix, so he's really glad he has zeta to guide him through his stumbling even if more often than not he ends up self-conscious with the corrections he gets. he can't help comparing himself to zeta and feel like he's failing to measure up to him.

they have the hardest time out of everyone to reach a balance on how much zeta can influence optimus' decisions without it just being him dictating what should be done.

2- prima is a bit of a mother-hen and OP doesn't mind nearly as much as he probably should. seeing as zeta took the more strict role, prima found himself taking on a more supportive, almost care-taking one. he's the one that nags OP the most about taking care of himself and whether or not he's pushing himself too hard trying to be the Prime everyone expects him to be.

and OP feels like he should mind more than he actually does but it's just. it's nice. to be taken care of. he feels like he has to be strong for everyone else around him but prima makes him feel like it's okay if he's not sometimes. carrying the Matrix makes him feel so much older than he actually is most of the time, but sometimes prima treats him like a sparkling and it's. it's kinda nice.

prima is almost definitely the one optimus is closest to. partially because receiving prima's cog made them develop a bond that makes it easier for them to feel what the other is feeling which in turn makes their communication pretty open. but also because while with the others OP had to slowly lose his hero worship and learn to love them as just people, it's really hard to be star-struck by someone who is constantly nagging you about whether you're sleeping enough or not (/▽＼)

3- vector is pretty strict and a bit of rule stickler which does mean he and OP don't always agree on what's the best thing to do. they get along fine enough, they just... have a hard time vibing with each other.

OP spent his whole life chaffing against an unfair system and unjust rules, before finding out the horrible reason of why they existed, which makes him inherently suspicious of any kind of protocol he doesn't understand or doesn't see the point of.

vector loves protocol and rules and thinks they're there for a reason even if you don't always see it at first.

they struggle to find a balance until vector understands that OP doesn't just hate rules for the sake of hating them, he needs to understand why they're there and what purpose they serve before he acquiesces to follow them. once he gets where OP is coming from, it's a lot less frustrating to have to explain why certain protocols and rules exist.

and OP starts liking vector a lot more once he stops feeling like vector is trying to force him to follow useless directives that serve no purpose. once he sees vector is willing to sit down and explain to him why certain things are done the way they are, it's easier for him to not instinctively reject rules or protocols he doesn't immediately understand. he learns to trust that there's probably a reason behind everything and it's not always malicious. even if he ends up deciding he still doesn't agree with it, at least he's willing to learn more about it first.

4- alpha trion and orion have a mutual soft spot for the other and they enjoy spending time with one another very much!

AT was the only one that got to see Orion as a cogless miner trying so hard to make things right even when he had almost no power in his hands to do it. he was the one that saw a spark in him that could light up their world again. he saw the little bot that refused to stand down in the face of a giant injustice. and he will always love orion for that. for the hope he gave him in a time where everything seemed hopeless.

but he was also the one that set him and his friends in a path that led them to so much pain. he cannot regret it, revealing sentinel's lies was far too important and there was too little time to hesitate, but he does feel guilty for the part he played in what happened after. and it's that guilt that leads to him being more patient, more sympathetic to OP's weakness when it comes to megatron.

and to OP alpha trion will always feel a little larger to life, even after their size difference isn't as big as it was before. to him alpha trion will forever be the person who took the blindfold off his eyes. the one that confirmed that orion wasn't crazy for thinking things weren't right. that not only told him he, and everyone else, deserved the right to choose what they wanted to be, but also enabled them to make that choice.

he lowkey imprinted on alpha trion back in that cave lol

and on a more lighthearted note they both really enjoy spending time in the archives! they bond over a shared love for history and the importance of accurate records. and orion spent a lot of time listening to alpha trion's voice back when he used to sneak into the archives. he can barely believe he now gets to listen to the real thing and not just a recording!

he can't help but think that maybe in another world, in a better life, if he was very lucky, he could've worked in the archives under alpha trion's tutelage. he knows it's only a fantasy. but it's a nice one.

5- solus and optimus get along pretty well! she doesn't give him as much grief about megatron as the others do, not because she doesn't think it's a bad idea, but because she's kinda curious about it. she's very much a "let's see where this goes" kinda gal, even if she's relatively sure the results will go badly. so while she will let optimus know exactly what she thinks of megatron, she also lowkey doesn't discourage him from his attempts at reconnecting with him. she can respect the hustle of trying to fix something everyone else has deemed irreparable.

and optimus appreciates this! not quite enough to let solus take control of him so she can mess around in wheeljack's lab, but enough that he will hang around and act as translator so those two can bounce ideas off each other for far longer than he would otherwise lol

6- micronus shares OP's distaste for rules he doesn't understand or agree with so the two of them (and amalgamous) will team up against vector when they feel he's being particularly overbearing. the bond that rebelling against authority (an older sibling) creates between two people cannot be understated. their relationship is a simple one but very close nonetheless. micronus is one of the most affectionate of the group and he made OP feel very welcome into the family very quickly. he's also one of the most lighthearted about their situation. he thinks that as long as they're all together, not even the pits could be such a bad place to be in. his good attitude is contagious and OP gravitates towards him whenever he starts feeling a little too down.

7- alchemist is a more gentle, even tempered and lowkey presence. so while he and optimus don't spent a lot of time one-on-one, the time they do spend together is pretty nice for both of them. sometimes OP needs just a nice, simple conversation that won't touch of heavier topis and alchemist offers that. he tells optimus stories that weave science and mysticism so tightly it makes OP wonder how anyone can think they're irreconcilable with one another. he does give optimus high grade recipes he's pretty sure could kill someone if not prepared carefully enough tho lol

8- nexus on the other hand is loud, wildly creative and unpredictable. there is a reason he's the first one that discovered how to levitate in ghost form. the fact he couldn't turn if off afterwards is irrelevant. he's full of good humor, loves pranks and always has a joke on the tip of his tongue. OP loves him very much but he does find him a bit... grating at times. he understands why nexus tries to make all of them smile and laugh as much as he can but... he can't help but wish he wouldn't try so hard all the time. he's certain that as orion he would've not only taken it in stride, but even joined in. but as optimus he just... he no longer finds smiling as easy as he used to. nexus attempts at making him smile only emphasize how much more effort it takes nowadays.

9- onyx was a little bit intimidating to optimus at first, but once he got over his awe at the slightly mystic prime, he found himself enjoying his company pretty easily. onyx has a different perspective on many things, much more spiritual than the rest of his siblings, and while optimus doesn't always get what he means, he enjoys listening to him anyway. and the way he describes flying almost makes OP wish he had wings too.

10- amalgamous and optimus get along pretty well thanks to amalgamous' gentle but free-spirited temper and their relationship only strengthens upon the discovery that both of them have a natural irreverence for authority figures. the bond that being rebellious together creates is a strong one. the fact they're also authority figures does not escape their notice, but they're firm believers of the "i am not excluded from 'fuck'em' when relevant" mentality so it's fine.

amalgamous is also one of the firsts that starts pushing back the moment he feels zeta and vector are putting too much pressure on OP or imposing their opinions on him too much. while prima will speak up on behalf of optimus' well-being more often, it is amalgamous that defends optimus' independence most fiercely.

11- quintus is another quiet presence that doesn't make a lot of waves except when he feels compelled to speak up against the more ruthless approaches their siblings suggest. but otherwise he doesn't stand out as much as the others do. optimus' gets the feeling it wasn't always like that, the stories the others tell him of better times before the war hinting at a wild creativity and idealism he can't quite see in the quintus he knows. but the way even those hints vanish entirely once they start speaking of the war makes him wonder if they're related.

12-liege maximo is maybe the closest any of the primes get to being optimus' brother in every sense of the word. they're all family, they're all siblings, they all love each other but it is liege that makes optimus understand what the cain instinct means.

liege teases OP constantly and is delighted at the fact optimus is not afraid to give back as good as he gets. everyone else is a bit too over-protective of the kid in his opinion and it is his duty as fellow younger sibling to keep the baby of the family humble.

and OP is glad he gets one person he can be a little glitch with. as Prime there's an unspoken... decorum or property everyone around expects from him and he's... not like that. he misses being able to joke and mess around with his friends, he misses being able to be a little immature and even rude and not worry about whether it'll cause a political or social scandal.

and it's not like he's not close to or relaxed around the other primes, but there's still a little part of him that can't forget he used to hero-worship all of them and that part of him still screeches any time he's kinda rude to them. he's working on it.

but liege manages to get under his plates like no one else, he gets to the irreverent little glitch remnants of orion that optimus buries deep down inside himself most of the time and it's fantastic. the fact he can see liege visibly enjoys their little spats also helps.

on a gentler note, sometimes when OP is struggling to fall asleep, liege will tell him stories to pass the time. after all, storytelling is lying adjacent and liege is a very good liar. they both enjoy it more than they'd like to admit.

13-megatronus' relationship with optimus is... complicated. but maybe not exactly the way people expect it to be.

yes, at first the mere sight of him made him want to violently sob but like. what didn't make him want to cry those first few days. yes megatronus was a reminder of Dee, a painful one even, but so was literally everything else. dee was so ingrained into every single aspect of orion's life, it would've been easier to name the ones he wasn't.

when he couldn't even do vital tasks, like eating or sleeping, without it being a struggle to not crumble under the devastating guilt and heartbreak festering inside his chest, seeing megatronus is like. not even in the top ten of his list of issues tbh.

and afterwards, by the time when every day is a little easier to get through, he already got to know megatronus enough to see him more as person and less as dee's idol. of course it's not right away, not completely painless, you don't erase years of memories of someone you used to hold dearest to your heart just like that, but it's. it's a start.

he gets to make his own relationship with megatronus, his own memories with him, untainted by the pain of losing dee.

and their relationship in itself it's pretty nice. megatronus is a little overprotective of optimus (why the fuck is he so tiny???) but he doesn't really get the chance to be overbearing with it because. well. what can he really do. so instead it manifests into teaching optimus how to defend himself the best he can. the kid has pretty good instincts already but megatronus wasn't the greatest warrior who ever lived for nothing. he still has a lot he can teach OP.

and OP loves learning from him. he doesn't enjoy fighting, but he loves learning new things and the rush of getting a new move right is addicting. he also knows that if he gets through his training fast enough they're ahead of schedule he can get megatronus to tell him first hand stories of events he has read about hundreds of times.

no one is as good as alpha trion in telling stories, but megatronus is a close second.

their main point of contention is, of course, megatron.

megatronus is very bitter over what megatron has done with his name, his t-cog and his legacy. there is no hiding that, not even if he wanted to. and he doesn't. he's the most outspoken in his disdain for his actions and, after a while, the mech himself. at first he tried to be comprehensive and not push optimus too much, because he knows how much dee meant to him, but there's a point when he's just. done. with the topic. he believes there's only one solution to the war is and he wants optimus to understand it before he has to pay too high a price for his hesitation.

and optimus... cannot accept that.

logically, he knows megatronus is probably right. he knows that there'll be a line megatron will cross and won't be able to come back from.

he knows it will be then his duty to stop megatron no matter what it takes.

but... not yet. please. not yet.

and megatronus won't say it doesn't disappoint him. he just knows that optimus' reluctance to kill megatron will blow up on his face one day. but it's fine. what's family for if not to say "i told you so" while helping to get you out of trouble.

[berryispunk]

What It Feels Like

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: soft! Frankie, supportive! Frankie, insecure reader, unprotected PiV, praise, Frankie talks you through, oral f!receiving (it’s Frankie duh), no cock or pussy pronouns, it’s so soft and sweet it may give you cavities, first time sex with a new partner, no physical description of reader

summary: You've been on a few dates with Frankie, and now you're ready to take things a step further.

word count: ~ 5k (most of it smut, sorry not sorry)

notes: We all need and deserve a man like Francisco Morales. That’s all I have to say.

Frankie Morales is the kind of man you didn’t think actually existed—until he was standing right in front of you. Real. Breathing. In color. Before him, men like this were just stories you heard or dreams you barely dared to entertain: attentive, funny, caring. Too good to be true, you told yourself. No man like that could seriously be interested in you. Not someone who felt like he’d walked out of a Hallmark movie, tailor-made from every woman’s wishlist.

And yet, here he was. Sitting across from you on your fourth date, all the awkward conversations about exes and bad decisions already behind you. And still—he stayed. He looked you in the eyes, held your gaze a second too long, and it did something strange to your stomach.

You’d made an effort tonight, pulling on the one dress your best friend had talked you into buying—despite not being, and likely never becoming, a “dress girl.” You’d thrown on your favorite worn-in denim jacket over it, the one with the LGBTQIA+ pin stuck proudly on the collar. Not because you were part of the community—not really—but because love in every shape and form deserved to be seen. It was about respect.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Frankie. Was he straight? Maybe it was instinct. Maybe curiosity. But there was something in the way he moved, how comfortably he carried himself, that made you think he’d at least tested those boundaries. You didn’t mean to ask. Not really.

It had been sitting in the back of your mind like a song you couldn’t quite shake—something about the way Frankie moved, how he held your gaze without flinching, how he seemed so at ease in his skin. It stirred an interest in you that wasn’t just about him, but about yourself too.

You'd only known him for a few weeks, but there was something disarming about him. He made you feel safe and exposed all at once, like you were teetering on the edge of something you didn’t have words for yet. That’s probably why the question slipped out, soft and half-swallowed, as you tucked your hands beneath the table to hide the way your fingers fidgeted.

“Have you ever kissed a guy?”

Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be, but it still landed in the air between you with enough weight to make your stomach flip. You immediately regretted it. Not because you thought he’d judge you, but because—God, what if he didn’t answer? Or worse, what if he looked at you like you were too much too soon?

But Frankie didn’t blink. Didn’t smirk, didn’t shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“Yeah,” he said simply, like you’d asked what his favorite band was. “Once. During training. We were bored, I think. Or curious. I didn’t really like it... but I didn’t mind it either. It just happened.” Then he smiled—not defensive, not cocky. Just honest. “It’s not a big deal.”

You didn’t know what to do with that kind of calm. Your face went warm, embarrassment blooming before you could stop it. You looked down at your lap, suddenly hyper aware of how little you knew about people like him. People who lived in their bodies like they weren’t something to be ashamed of. Frankie’s voice came softer now, like he felt the shift in you. Like he noticed, even if you didn’t want him to.

“Hey,” he said gently, “have you ever kissed a girl?”

You let out a breathy laugh, eyes still fixed on your hands. “Sadly not. But… I think I would. If I had the chance.”

There was a beat of quiet before he said, with a grin just teasing the corner of his mouth, “Something tells me you’d be good at it.”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Frankiiiie.”

His foot brushed yours beneath the table, the tiniest nudge. “I’m just saying,” he murmured, “you don’t have to be sure of everything right now. You get to find out what you like. No pressure.”

And somehow, just like that, the shame eased off your chest. Frankie didn’t make you feel small. He made you feel seen.

You hesitated, teeth pressing into your bottom lip, the words forming before you could decide whether you really wanted to say them.

“I’ve thought about… experimenting,” you admitted quietly, like it was some kind of confession. “But I don’t know. I’m too… in my head. Too uncomfortable in my own body half the time. I mean, I hardly attract men—how am I supposed to let a woman know I’d be interested?”

You laughed under your breath, not because it was funny, but because it was the only way to soften how exposed you suddenly felt. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I don’t say things like this to people, sorry.”

Frankie was quiet for a moment, and you risked a glance at him. He wasn’t looking at you like you’d said too much. He wasn’t looking at you with pity, or amusement. He was just… looking. Present, gentle. The kind of gaze that steadied your shaking breath.

“Maybe that’s just the effect I have on you,” he said softly, a little smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. Then, a beat later, his voice dropped a little lower, became a little warmer. “But I’m pretty much interested in you. Or… did I make you feel otherwise?”

Your whole body reacted like it had been dunked in warm water—your chest, your face, even your fingertips burning with the weight of his words. You tried to breathe, but it came out too fast, too shallow. You couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“No,” you managed, voice small. “You didn’t.”

Frankie didn’t press or tease. He just leaned back a little, like he knew you needed space to feel everything without it swallowing you whole.

“Okay then,” he said simply. “Just making sure.”

You weren’t ready for the evening to end, not really, but the night air had settled into that crisp kind of quiet that made everything feel more intimate—more real. “I’ll walk you home,” Frankie offered as you both stepped out onto the sidewalk. No hesitation, no need to ask if it was okay. Just the kind of thing he did—like it was natural to want to make sure you got home safe. Natural to be near you a little longer.

You nodded, hugging your denim jacket tighter around yourself, hoping the cool air would do something to calm the fire in your chest. It didn’t. You walked in a comfortable silence, the street lamps casting soft gold light across the pavement. Your fingers brushed once. Then again. And then—gently, like he’d done it a thousand times before—Frankie took your hand.

His fingers laced easily through yours, warm and steady. It was such a simple gesture, but it sent your thoughts spiraling in about seventeen directions.You tried to play it cool. Didn’t squeeze back too hard, didn’t let your breath hitch too much. But inside? Absolute chaos. Giddy, flustered, chest-tight chaos.

And of course, because he was Frankie, he noticed.

He glanced at you sideways, a soft little grin tugging at his mouth. Absolutely adorable. Then, he lifted your joined hands slightly and asked, “Is this okay?” His kind eyes searched yours—not teasing, not smug. Just quietly sincere, like he was pointing at something fragile. Like you were.

Your heart practically stumbled over itself.

“Yeah,” you said, a little breathless, a little too fast. “Yeah, it’s… it’s good. I mean—nice. It’s nice.”

Frankie chuckled under his breath, just enough to let you know he heard the slip and didn’t mind one bit. He gave your hand a small, reassuring squeeze, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like you weren’t spiraling inside. Like this wasn’t the first time someone held your hand and actually meant something by it.

And for once, the voice in your head didn’t argue.

The walk home was somehow too long and not long enough. And now here you stood—at your door, under the soft hum of the porch light, trying to figure out how to say goodnight when goodnight was the last thing you wanted.

The quiet wrapped around you both, thick with something unspoken. Frankie hadn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing small, absent circles against your skin like he was memorizing the feel of you.

You didn’t want him to leave. That feeling bloomed heavy in your chest and curled low in your stomach—longing, warm and aching. You wondered if he felt it too. If he was thinking about crossing that line the same way you were.

But then—you didn’t have to wonder anymore.

Frankie stepped in closer, slow enough that you could have pulled away, but you didn’t. His other hand came up to cradle the side of your face, calloused fingertips warm against your skin. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world worth paying attention to.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice low, his breath mingling with yours. His eyes burned, intense and wanting—but his tone was still that same soothing voice that made you feel like you could fall apart in front of him and he wouldn’t flinch.

All you could do was nod.

And then he was kissing you.

Tentative, at first—gentle, like he was giving you time to change your mind. But when you didn’t—when you leaned into him and let your fingers curl into the front of his jacket—something shifted.

He felt it.

You let him in. Really in. And the kiss deepened, slow but electric, like a current running just beneath the surface, waiting to be felt. His hand slid behind your neck, holding you there without holding too tightly, while the other still anchored yours. You could feel it in him—the restraint. The way his body leaned in close, every part of him alive with need, but still careful not to overwhelm you. Like he was chasing the edge of control, but refusing to cross it without you right there with him.

It was intoxicating. When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing was uneven, but his smile was soft. You were breathless, shaken. Lit up from the inside out.

“Been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you,” he muttered, thumb brushing your cheek. “Was it okay?”

You laughed, dazed and a little undone. “More than okay.”

You didn’t mean to say it aloud. You barely even thought about it.

But the words slipped out, barely audible, sounding like a promise wrapped in hesitation.

“Do you… wanna come inside?”

Frankie stilled—not because he was unsure, but because he wanted to be sure you were. His hand was still at your face, and you could feel the warmth of it anchoring you in the moment. His eyes searched yours, that quiet intensity still glowing there, softer now but no less powerful.

“You sure?” he asked gently, like he’d stop everything if you so much as blinked the wrong way. “I’m not in a rush. I don’t want to—”

“I’m sure,” you said, cutting him off—not harshly, just certain.

God only knows where that certainty came from, when everything inside you still felt like a storm. But it was there. True enough to say out loud.

He exhaled through a smile—relief, affection, desire—all layered in that one breath. You fumbled with the keys a little, nerves flaring again, but Frankie didn’t laugh or tease. He just waited behind you, patient and solid. 

Inside, the air felt heavier. Not uncomfortable—just charged. Everything you did suddenly felt magnified. Dropping your keys. Slipping off your shoes. Feeling him close behind you without touching. You turned to find him a few steps away, watching you in that calm, steady way of his—like you had his full attention, without him needing to say a word. 

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, voice a little rougher now, but still laced with that impossible sweetness. “Slower, this time?”

You nodded, heart already climbing up your throat. And when he kissed you again, it was exactly that—slower, deeper, almost reverent. Like he wanted to map out every part of you he hadn’t had the chance to yet. Like he wanted you to feel it everywhere.Your hands found their way to his chest, then his shoulders, pulling him closer. And he obliged willingly, wrapping his arms around you, but still holding back the full weight of everything surging between you. And when his lips left yours to trail softly along your jaw, your breath caught in a way you didn’t try to hide. This was happening. And you wanted it to.

You weren’t sure when the kiss turned into movement, only that somehow you were in your bedroom and the door had clicked shut behind you. The low light made everything feel softer—your skin, your heartbeat, your nerves. Frankie was still kissing you, slower now, like he was savoring each second. Every brush of his lips felt deliberate, like he wanted to show you that none of this was rushed, none of it expected.

Still, your thoughts raced ahead of you. Was your body too soft? Not what he expected ? 

The old insecurities flared quietly in the background, like static. They always did—especially in moments like this, when you wanted something so much it almost hurt and were terrified of messing it up just by being you. All those voices, rising like a choir with one purpose: to make you feel small. To pull you back to high school, where you were always the outsider—unwanted, untouched, watching your peers have their first experiences like it was all happening behind glass. You were miles away, wondering when it would ever be your turn.

And if Frankie had been your crush back then? You wouldn’t have even dared to look at him. He never would’ve known you existed.

But now—somehow, impossibly—he was here. Looking at you like you were the only one in the room. And Frankie, in that quiet, grounding way of his, didn’t give those voices any room to breathe. His hands were warm and steady, touching you like he already knew where you carried your doubt—and wanted to kiss it away. When his mouth dropped to your neck, your breath hitched, and you felt his smile against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, barely above a whisper, fingers splaying across your waist like a question.

“Yeah,” you breathed. Then admitted, more quietly: “Just... nervous.”

He pulled back enough to look at you, and his eyes were soft, searching and serious.

“I get that,” he said, voice low. His thumb brushed your side again, grounding you. “You don’t have to prove anything. Just be here with me.”

A breath passed between you.

“I want you. That’s it.”

He leaned in again, forehead to yours, and let the quiet stretch for a second longer.

“And I feel lucky as hell to be here, just so you know.”

Something in your chest cracked open. Not in a painful way—more like release. Like finally letting yourself breathe. You kissed him again, deeper this time, and something shifted. The fear didn’t vanish completely, but it stopped holding you back.

Clothes came off slowly, carefully. Frankie touched you like there was nothing about you that needed hiding. Nothing too much, nothing not enough. His kisses were patient and solemn, and when his hands explored your body, it was with genuine want, not performance.

At one point, his mouth moved lower, pausing at your collarbone, then your stomach. He looked up at you, one hand still gently holding your thigh.

“Still okay?” he asked like he’d stop in an instant if you so much as shifted.

You nodded. Then—because he deserved more than that—you sighed, “Yeah. I want this.” Even if the thought of being seen like this, touched like this, made your nerves buzz beneath your skin.

Frankie didn’t hesitate, but he didn’t rush either. He kissed the inside of your thighs like they were holy, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. And when he finally leaned in, he did it like a man who adored you—not just your body, but you.

Your fingers found their way into his soft hair, your hand gripping the strands as your body reacted, bucking slightly into his mouth. His gaze stayed fixed on you, his hands on your hips as he felt every movement, every shift, like he was learning you—not just touching you. It didn’t feel practiced. It felt like care. Like he was giving you something real, and in that moment, it felt like you were worthy of every second of it.

You let your eyes flutter shut, your breath quickening, but he kept you close—physically and emotionally. He anchored you, grounded you, making it impossible to feel anything but wanted. And you believed it. You believed him. It was like flying, or free-falling, right at the edge of something thrilling, as you reached your peak with the skilled press of his tongue. He was there, though—right there to catch you. His big hands rested on your outer thighs, guiding you through the waves of your orgasm, solid and gentle as he made sure you felt nothing but safe.

When you finally caught your breath, you found him looking up at you, eyes soft but intense, his lips glistening with you. His chest rose and fell with each inhale, but his hands lingered on your skin, never rushing, not yet moving to undress you further.

“I’m not gonna push you,” he murmured, voice low but thick with need. “But I want more of you.”

His fingertips brushed the edge of your hip, sending a shiver through your spine, but he didn’t move further. Not yet. He waited for you, his gaze never wavering, as if asking permission without words.

You could feel the heat in him, the hunger, but he wasn’t demanding it. He was waiting—for you to give what you were ready for.

Taking a deep breath, you shifted, sitting up slowly, your hands finding the waistband of his jeans. The fabric felt soft beneath your fingertips, but as you undressed him, your hands traced the path of tiny scars and smooth skin, feeling the flex of muscle under your touch. His body responded, every inch of him reacting to you in a way that made your pulse race.

You hesitated for a moment, breath catching in your throat as you looked at him, feeling a strange sense of awe. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

There was a brief pause, and then you saw it—the slightest change in him. That confidence, that unshakable presence he always had, softened just for a moment, like a crack in the armor he wore so easily. His breath caught, and you could see it in the way his jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something he didn’t always show.

It dawned on you then—Frankie wasn’t used to being praised like this. He was used to being admired for his strength, his charm, his ease—but not like this. Not like he was worthy of your admiration. And it twisted something in your chest, a sudden ache that felt too big for the space in your heart. Because in that moment, you realized—Frankie was everything you’d ever wanted. Everything and more.

He wasn’t just the confident, carefree man you’d seen before. He was so much more than that, and somehow, in this raw, quiet moment, you were the one who was showing him just how deeply you saw him. How much he mattered.

You ran your fingers over his chest, feeling his breath quicken, and he let you, waiting and patient. As you undressed him, your hands trailed over the smoothness of his skin, hesitating at moments, uncertainty creeping in. The closer you got to him, the more that old insecurity creeped up: Am I enough?

When he was finally naked, you paused, unsure, still feeling that rush of vulnerability. But his eyes met yours—calm, trusting.

You reached for him, fingers brushing tentatively against his hardened need, your touch light, uncertain. You wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel, but the fear of messing up lingered.

“You’re good ?” Frankie’s voice was low, gentle, sensing your hesitation. He didn’t rush you, didn’t ask for anything more.

“I want to,” you whispered, voice a little shaky, “but I’m scared I’ll mess it up.”

He cupped your face “You’re not messing anything up,” he murmured, his sincerity making something inside you soften. 

You swallowed the doubt, letting his words settle in, and moved your hand again, more confidently this time. His breath hitched, but you kept going, trusting him, trusting yourself, and pushing through the insecurity to give him the same care he’d given you.

You felt his body tense at your actions. His fingers gripped the sheets, his hips bucking into your hand with a low hiss. The way he reacted, so needy, sent a shock of heat through you. Every movement of his, every sound he made, unraveled something inside you in the best way.

The feel of him—so desperate and affected—made you want to give him everything. His urgent movements, the quiet moans spilling from his lips, pushed you to go faster, but you held back, savoring the power of making him lose control.

As the tension built, Frankie’s voice broke through the haze. “How about you take control for a bit?” he suggested, his hands gently resting on your hips. “You can ride me if you want to. But only if you're ready. No pressure.”

The idea was so tempting, yet the insecurities flooded back. What if I mess it up? What if I’m not good at it? You hesitated, fingers curling into the sheets.

Frankie must’ve sensed the shift in you and his eyes met yours. “Hey,” he said, his voice calm but warm. “It’s fine if you’re not ready. But something tells me you’d love it. I’ll guide you through it—just trust me, alright?”

The wink he gave you would’ve been unbearable coming from anyone else, too playful, too sure of themselves. But from Frankie? It was absolutely endearing. Paired with his smile, warm and reassuring, it all felt less heavy. 

You took a steadying breath, but Frankie’s presence gave you courage. He gently guided you to sit up, his hands holding your waist with such care as if you were something delicate. "Alright, just follow my lead," he said softly. "You’re in control, yeah? Whenever you’re ready."

His eyes never left yours, studying you closely, but with a patience that calmed the storm of doubt in your mind. You nodded and slowly, you straddled him, his hands still on your hips, guiding you gently. The weight of him beneath you was both thrilling and a little intimidating. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of the movement, but Frankie’s touch was grounding—his hands firm but never demanding. His fingers gripped your hips just enough to guide you, a slight pressure as you took him in fully, feeling him inside you. 

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice low, a bit more restrained now “You don’t have to chase it. Just feel it, okay?”

The way he spoke was strangely familiar, like he was giving you instructions in the cockpit of his helicopter, his voice calm, authoritative, yet gentle. The thought almost made you smile. It was hot, in a way—so effortlessly commanding, yet it was still him, somehow making the situation feel safe and playful at the same time.

His hands slid to your back, pulling you closer. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, his voice thick with encouragement and want. “Feel me? Just let go. Trust me.” To emphasize his words, he lifted his hips slightly, sinking deeper against the headboard, and the movement drew a surprised gasp from you. You could feel him everywhere, his heat enveloping you, pressing against your skin.

His touch remained, always making sure you were comfortable, and with each small movement, the confidence in you began to build. He watched you closely, never once pushing, just there, supporting you every step of the way and bask in the sight of you.

His head rested back against the headboard, eyes almost entirely black with desire. He closed them briefly, as if to gather himself, and you could feel his grip on your hips tighten ever so slightly. It was clear—he was holding himself back, letting you take control, giving you the space to move at your own pace.

His breath came deeper now, more labored, but still he didn’t rush you. He was barely holding onto his own control, but never letting it slip, never forcing you to move faster than you were ready. You could feel the tension in him, the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch, and it made your heart flutter. He was letting you lead, but you could tell just how much he wanted you to go further. 

His grip tightened just a little, his eyes still closed, though you could feel the intensity building in him. “Is it okay if you move a little faster?” His voice was low, thick with need, but there was that familiar gentleness too. “I want to feel you. It’ll feel nice for you too, I promise.”

The question hung in the air for a moment, and without hesitation, you gave him the signal. Slowly, you began to move faster, the rhythm shifting, and Frankie gave you an appreciative hum in return.

A low groan escaped him, his eyes flashing open, now completely consumed by desire. The way you moved, the way you gave yourself to him—he couldn’t help but praise you, his voice thick and reverential. “God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his eyes heating as they locked onto yours. "Just like that. You feel so fucking good—don’t stop.”

His grip on your hips tightened once more, but even then, it was all in support, like he wanted you to take control while savoring every moment. The way he looked at you, eyes dark yet full of awe, made your heart race. It wasn’t just the heat—it was the way he saw you and it made everything feel deeper, more intimate.

As you moved above him, he spoke again in a low, breathless murmur: “You look so beautiful, riding me like that.” The words sent heat flooding into your cheeks, making them burn with both embarrassment and something else you didn’t name yet. The heat spreading all through your veins like molten.

You felt the knot inside you tightening with every roll of your hips, every shift of your body. His warm eyes glimmered in the soft light of your bedroom, watching you like you were a masterpiece. His hands gripped your hips, firm and certain, guiding you with just the right amount of pressure. Every movement made you feel more and more connected to him, every inch of your skin alive with the sensation of him beneath you.

The pressure in your lower body grew unbearable, the rhythm between you becoming frantic. And then, with one last deep roll of your hips, everything snapped. The coil inside you unraveled as you reached your peak, a broken moan and his name escaped your lips as you felt him spill inside you simultaneously.

The wave of pleasure slowly ebbed, leaving you breathless and tangled in his arms. You rested your head against his shoulder, your chest still heaving, feeling the warmth of him spread through you. Without thinking, your lips found the small freckles scattered across his skin, kissing them softly. A quiet giggle bubbled up from you, a nervous but content sound, as you tried to catch your breath.

Frankie, still holding you close, felt the soft shift in you, the way your body relaxed into his. The sensation of being connected, even now, was strange in the best way—comforting and grounding. He didn’t pull away; instead, he pulled you impossibly closer.

"How do you feel?" His voice was gentle, quiet as his fingertips traced soothing circles on your back. His gaze was tender, but there was still that flicker of desire in his eyes. Like a fire about to dissolve. He wanted to make sure you were good, that everything felt right for you, even now. Especially now. 

You felt incredible, satisfied—something you never thought you’d experience. For once, the insecurities didn’t ruin it. You felt enough. The warmth of him, his patience, everything… It made you feel almost a little emotional.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. “For making me feel... this.”

Frankie’s hold on you softened as he kissed your temple. “You don’t need to thank me for that,” he murmured. “You deserve it.”

—

A few months had passed, and things with Frankie had settled into something solid—something comfortable. But sometimes, in quiet moments, when his hand brushed yours or his eyes lingered just a little longer than usual, it hit you all over again. This was your life now. It was almost too easy to forget how you started, to forget that this wasn’t something you’d ever dreamed of having. That the doubts and insecurities that once held you back had melted away in his presence, leaving only the truth: He was here, and this was real.

As you watched him laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners, that smile you loved so much lighting up the room, a thought crossed your mind: Frankie Morales was the kind of man you never thought actually existed—until he was standing right in front of you. And now, somehow, he was yours.

thank you so much for reading <3

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