#all i know is that Jasmine is hot

[brainrot-goes-brrrrrr]

I'm going to be uploading a bunch of sbg doodles soon, but I really like this one so-

(Request from insta)

[ryllen]

Another pokemon twst assignments

[niklenakle]

I ran out of tags before i could list all the rune factory girls im really sorry ill do better next time...

Hello, tumblr user. Before you is a tumblr post asking you to name a female fictional character. You have unlimited time to tag a female character, NOT a male one.

Begin.

[barnacles34]

Bells and Whistles (Professional Hazard pt. 1.1)

Karina x Male Reader

18+

It's three days after that beautiful night. Still in Rome.

The voicemail plays in the quiet of her bedroom. First: silence. Then a sharp intake of breath that makes your pulse jump. 

Your thumb hovers over the phone as her voice breaks into those familiar wet sounds that have been haunting you all afternoon.

'If you play that one more time—'

'Shh. This is art.'

She's burrowed in her fortress of quilts, only eyes visible over the edge. A paperback lies abandoned by her hip.

'Delete it.' But her voice has gone soft around the edges.

'Not a chance.' You take your time with your shoes. Let her watch the deliberate movements. 'This is better than your debut song—and you know how much I love that song.’'

'You're awful.' The quilt slips as she shifts. 'I was desperate.'

'Were you?' You tap the phone, find that specific moment where her voice catches. 'Tell me about desperate.'

Her sock-covered foot sneaks out, hooks behind your knee. Tugs. 'Twenty minutes for milk. Who takes twenty minutes for milk?'

'Someone wearing very expensive, very tight jeans.'

'Someone being cruel.'

You catch her ankle mid-retreat. The quilt falls away, reveals cotton shorts still damp from earlier. Your thumb finds the arch of her foot, presses. She makes that sound again—the one from the voicemail.

'Cruel?' Your fingers trace higher. 'I'm not the one sending pornographic voicemails in the middle of the day.'

'I didn't—' She breaks off as your hand slides up her calf.

'No?' You hit play again. Her recorded gasp fills the room. 'What would you call this then?'

She bites her knuckle. You replace it with your thumb, let her teeth graze the pad.

'That noise you made,' you murmur. 'Right at the end. Makes me feel invincible.'

'Yeah?' Her tongue darts out, tastes salt.

'Like I could do anything. Find Atlantis. Solve world peace.' You brush her temple with your lips. 'Handle two of you.'

She snorts, shoves at your chest. 'You can barely handle one.'

'Want to test that theory?'

The laughter dies in her throat as your palm finds her inner thigh. Heat blooms under cotton.

'Stay.' Her fingers twist in your shirt like anchors. 'I'll send more. A dozen. Two dozen.'

'Greedy girl.'

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. 'Your fault.'

When you kiss her, she melts like she's been waiting all day.

Her tongue maps the ridges of your teeth, memorizing territory she already knows by heart.

‘Cheater,’ she gasps when you pinch the clasp of her bra.

‘Architect.’

Her shorts fall. The quilt tangles around her hips. She arches when your mouth finds her neck. Whimpers when your teeth follow.

‘Still deleting it.’ She breathes.

‘Try.’

You hit playback again. Her moan swells—raw, unfiltered—as your fingers slide into her.

‘Fuck.’ Her head thrashes. ‘That’s—’

‘—Proof.’ You curl your fingers. ‘You’re my religion.’

She chokes on a laugh. A sob. Her hips stutter. You drink the sounds from her lips. Let her nails carve half-moons into your shoulders.

Later, when she’s boneless and blinking up at you, she traces your collarbone.

‘Twelve voicemails,’ she yawns.

‘Thirteen.’

‘Why thirteen?’

You press her palm to your chest. Let her feel the gallop. ‘One for every time I died at this very second.’

She stills.

Her teeth flash. Dangerous. Devoted. ‘Gladly.’

Your fingers move lazy. Slow. Dragging out every twitch, every choked gasp. She arches into your hand, sweat gluing her bangs to her temples.

‘Still… deleting it.’ She pants, hips circling.

‘Try harder.’ You crook your fingers. Watch her back bow.

Her moan syncs with the recording still playing softly nearby—a stereo echo of need. You drink the sound. Memorize the way her throat flutters.

It’s pulsing, it’s so wet and hot. Sucking in your fingers like quicksand.

‘You’re mean.’ She whines.

‘Mean?’ Your thumb swipes. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

The voicemail crackles: “—can’t sleep, can’t think, just… please—”

You smirk. Kiss her inner thigh. Salt and jasmine. Her hips jerk.

‘No—wait—’ Her hand fists your hair. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t pull. Trembles.

You nuzzle the damp cotton. ‘Scared?’

‘Never.’

Her shorts peel away. You linger—inhale her, lips hovering. She whimpers.

You chuckle. ‘Even your pussy smells like jasmine.’

‘Please.’

The first lick is a tease. A glancing blow. She curses. The second? A vow.

You map her with your tongue—slow, reverent. Learn the rhythm that makes her thighs clamp your ears. The angle that steals her words. She’s wildfire in your mouth.

‘There—oh god, there—’

You double down. Fingers curl inside her. Thumb presses just so.

Her scream is raw. Beautiful. The quilt soaks. You don’t let up—suck gently as she shakes, drag your tongue through every pulse until she’s clawing the sheets.

Her juices quicken, a pungent musk of sex that’s just pure fucking sin—and you’re sucking it up like a thirsty dog.

Your tongue drags a slow circle around her clit—not touching it. Just tracing the swollen bud through her folds. She whines, thighs tensing.

‘Tease.’

‘Worshipper.’ you correct.

Her hips lift. You press her back down with a palm to her stomach. Feel the muscles flutter, feel the soft cream-like softness of her beautiful midriff.

First contact: a glancing lick. Just the tip of your tongue skating over her clit. She gasps. You catalog the sound—high, sharp, yours.

‘Again.’ She breathes.

You oblige. Slower this time. Let your tongue flatten, drag wet heat across her, bury your nose into her pelvis. Her fingers knot in the sheets.

‘Good?’

‘More.’

You hum. Vibration ripples through her. She jerks.

‘Easy,’ you murmur against her. ‘Let me learn you.’

Your thumbs part her folds. Expose her fully—glistening, flushed, pulse visible in the throb of her clit. You blow gently. Watch her clench, flesh constricting.

‘Cruel—’ A high moan escapes her.

‘Thorough.’

The first proper lick steals her voice. You start slow. Broad strokes from entrance to clit, savoring her tang. Her thighs quiver.

‘There,’ she hisses when your tongue flicks her clit. ‘God, there—’

You zero in. Flick. Flick. Steady rhythm. Her breath hitches.

‘Don’t stop—don’t—’

You switch tactics—suck gently. Her back arches.

‘Yes—like—ah—’

Her clit hardens under your tongue. You trace circles around it, avoiding direct contact. She sobs.

‘Please—’

You reward her: firm pressure, rapid flicks. Her hips stutter. You pin her down, red blooming around the hold you have over her stomach—relentless.

‘Close—I’m close—’

You slide two fingers inside. Curl. Her walls clamp.

‘Fuck—fuck—’

Her clit pulses under your tongue. You suck harder.

She shatters.

A broken scream. Hips grinding against your face. You ride her through it—tongue gentling, fingers stilling.

‘Too much—’

You kiss her inner thigh. Two more kisses along the outer lips. Taste salt. ‘Beautiful.’

She trembles. ‘Again.’

Her thighs tremble as she nudges you onto your back. The mattress dips under her weight. You reach to touch her face—always reaching—but she catches your wrist. Presses it to the pillow. 

Her grip isn’t firm. A request, not a demand.

‘Let me,’ she murmurs.

You nod.

Her lips start at your collarbone—a closed-mouth kiss that lingers. She exhales warm breath against the hollow of your throat. You swallow. She smiles against your skin.

Another kiss. Lower. The swell of your pectoral. The scar from that cat. Her tongue traces the jagged edge. You hiss.

The way her thick hair travels along your chest tickles. The soothing aroma of her shampoo almost paralyzing you.

Her teeth graze your nipple. Bite down just enough to make your hips jerk. The denim of your jeans rasps against her bare thighs.

‘Off,’ she says.

‘What’s the magic word?’

Her eyes flick up. Dark. Glossy with submission. ‘Please.’

You sit up to shuck your jeans. She pushes you back down. ‘Let me.’

Her fingers fumble with your belt. The leather slips. She growls—a sound you’ve only heard when she lost at Mario Kart the day before. You bite your cheek. Laughter threatens release.

‘Shut up.’

‘Didn’t say anything.’

The belt clatters to the floor. Your boxers follow. Cool air hits your cock. Her breath follows—warm, uneven.

‘Look at me,’ you say.

She does. Pupils blown. Lips parted. A string of saliva connects her tongue to her lower lip.

‘Beautiful,’ you murmur.

She flushes. Looks away.

Your thumb hooks her chin. ‘Eyes here, sweetheart.’

A whimper escapes her. She obeys.

The first lick is tentative. A kitten testing cream. Her tongue swipes the underside of your cock. Your abs clench in response.

‘Jimin—’

‘Shh.’

Her lips wrap the head. Suck gently. Your groan claws its way out. She moans in response—vibration traveling straight to your spine.

Fuck.

Her hand wraps your shaft. Strokes in time with her mouth. Too dry. Too rough. Perfection.

‘Condom?’ she mumbles around you, the slightest gap allowed for conversation.

‘Later.’

She hums. The sound liquefies your bones.

And she continues. Swollen lips wrapped around your length, tongue slightly pushing on the underside.

Her free hand drifts between her legs. You catch it.

‘Focus.’

‘Meanie.’

You guide her head back down. ‘Earn it.’

She takes you deeper. Smoldering eye contact as she inches closer to the hilt, whereupon her nose almost makes contact with your pelvic bone. Gags. Pulls off. Coughs.

Strings of thick spit follow her mouth as she wipes.

‘Okay?’

‘Perfect.’

She tries again. Slower. Breathing through her nose. Her throat opens. Takes you to the root this time. Tears spill.

You bite down on your lip.

Her nails dig into your thighs. Sting. Ground. 

She finds a rhythm—suck, release, swirl. Strings of spit travel down your length. Where her thumb massages your balls with the spit. Your vision blurs.

Amidst it all, she’s staring into you—daring you to force her down on your cock. Begging, even.

‘Close,’ you warn.

She pulls off. Strokes you fast. ‘Come.’

You arch. ‘Where?’

Her tongue darts out. Catches the first pearl of cum. ‘Everywhere.’

The orgasm rips through you. Strips you raw. You spill across her lips, her chin, the swell of her breasts. She licks her lips. Grins.

‘Good?’

‘Amazing.’

She crawls up your body. Fully swallowing the load, then pressing a light kiss on your cheek.

Her mouth lingers on your cheekbone—wet, warm. The kiss sticks when she pulls back. Milky streaks still glisten between her breasts. You thumb one. She shivers.

‘Messy,’ you murmur.

‘Yours.’

Her nipples graze your chest as she straddles you. Heat blooms where skin meets skin. You palm her ribs. Feel the rabbit-quick thrum beneath.

Her hips lift. Your cock nudges her entrance. Slick. Swollen. You hold still. Make her work for it.

‘Please.’ She breathes, sinking down.

Heat swallows you. Tight. Quivering. You bite your tongue. Blood blooms.

She moves like water—slow swirls, thighs trembling. Her breasts sway. You catch one. Lick the salt from its curve.

‘Look at me.’

She doesn’t. Eyes screwed shut. Hair plastered to her neck. Hot and heavy with arousal.

You pinch her nipple. Gentle. Cruel. ‘Look.’

She whimpers. Lashes lift. Pupils black as oil spills.

‘Good girl.’

She whimpers. Clenches. Your fingers dig into her hips.

‘Faster.’

‘Make me.’

You buck up. She gasps. Nails score your chest.

‘Cheat—’

Her rhythm fractures. Hips stuttering. You let her chase it—the sweet friction, the burn. Her moans pitch higher.

‘Close—I’m close—,’ she whimpers.

You still her hips. ‘Wait.’

She sobs. ‘Please—’

‘Say it.’

Your thumb finds her clit. Circles.

She breaks. ‘Yours. Always yours.’

You release her. Let her slam down. Take what she needs.

Her orgasm rips through both of you—convulsions, bitten-off cries. Her rhythmic roll of hips turns frenzied. You let her ride it. Milk every pulse. 

After all, you’re obsessed—crazy about her.

When she collapses, you roll her over. Press into the sweat-slick hollow of her back.

‘Again.’

She shakes her head. Weak.

You bite her shoulder. ‘Again.’

Her body opens. Always opens. You grip your cock along her swollen slit, the sticky wetness almost  drives you mad. Regardless, you fuck her slow this time. 

Deep. Dragging each thrust. Feeling how her pussy drags on your cock, slick wet sounds singing into your ears.

‘Feel it?’

She nods. Pillow muffling her whines.

Your hand slides under. Cups her breast. Squeezes.

You curl over her. Chest to heaving back. Lips to her ear.

​​Her lips linger at your ear—sticky with confession. You taste salt when she pulls away. The room smells of sex and the spilt vanilla candle she lit hours ago, wax pooling like liquid amber.

She softly guides your hand to her throat. Your thumb finds the pulse. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. A trapped bird.

"Harder," she whispers.

You tighten. Feel her swallow.

Her breasts press against your chest as she arches, nipples pebbling against your scars. The heat between her legs slicks your thigh.

"Inside.’

You flip her. Sheets snag her knees. She whines. You bite the sound from her lips.

Her hands fist the headboard. You press into her slow. Molten velvet. Her moan fractures.

‘Eyes.’

She obeys. Always obeys.

You move. Deliberate. Each thrust a psalm. Her breasts sway—heavy, flushed. You palm one. Squeeze. Milk-white skin blooms red.

‘More—’

‘Quiet.’

She bites her wrist. You replace it with your fingers.

‘Sing for me.’

Her cry splinters the air. You swallow it. Fuck her deeper.

The headboard knocks the wall. Syncopated. Her ankles lock at your waist. Pull. Beg.

‘Who?’ you demand.

‘Yours.’

‘Louder.’

‘Yours~!’

The word still ringing when you slam into her. No finesse. Piston hips. Her breasts slap your chest—heat and sweat and jasmine.

She chokes. Nails rake your back. ‘Too—’

‘Take it.’

Her legs lock. Ankles digging into your behind. You fuck her like proving a point. Jackhammer rhythm. Headboard cracks plaster.

Dust rains down as you drag her hips back, slam into her harder. No rhythm now—just ruin.

She chokes on a scream, face mashed into the quilt, ass raised like an offering.

Your grip bruises her waist, fingers denting flesh as you split her open again. Again. Again and again. 

You can feel your balls hit the wetness of her pussy, smacking wet sounds onto her slit.

‘Take it.’ You grind deeper, pelvis punishing her clit with each thrust. Her thighs quiver, slick with sweat and your earlier release. ‘Wanted me rough? Here.’

She sobs into the mattress, voice shredded. ‘T-too—’

‘You don’t get to.’ You fist her hair, yank her head back. Her spine bows, throat exposed. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

A nod. A whimper.

You snarl, slamming home. The wet slap of skin-on-skin drowns her cries. Her nails claw the sheets, nearly ripping threads. You lean over her, teeth scoring her shoulder. 

Her scream cracks as you pin her wrists, pound into her like you’re exorcising ghosts.

The bed groans. Her breasts sway, nipples raw from your mouth. She’s so tight, clenching around your cock like she’s trying to keep you trapped inside.

‘Gonna break you,’ you rasp, thumb digging into her asshole.

She shrieks, back arching. ‘P-please—’

‘Please what?’

‘Ruin me—’

You do. Hips pistoning, sweat stinging the bite marks on her neck. You don’t stop—can’t stop—driving into her convulsions until your vision whites out.

She sobs. High. Broken. ‘There there there~!’

Your thumb finds her clit. Grind. Her scream lodges in your teeth.

‘Come.’

‘Can’t—can’t—’

You bite her shoulder. ‘Come.’

She shatters. Walls milking. Clenching. Begging without words.

You drill deeper. Tip hitting that spongy ache. Her eyes roll back.

‘Gonna fill you,’ you snarl.

‘Please please—’

One last thrust. Hilt-deep.

You rupture.

Whiteout. Earthquake hips. Flood her until your knees buckle.

She collapses into the fault line you’ve carved. Whimpers when you pull out. Spend drips down her thigh.

Her finger swipes it—all that cumulative spend coupled along her swollen cunt. Lets the slurry couple along her tongue.

‘I love how you taste.’

‘God. You’re too fucking perfect.’ You drop down onto her. Cuddling.

Moonlight spills through the curtains. She's tucked against you, all soft edges now.

'You okay?' Your fingers ghost over her shoulder.

'Mm.' A pause. 'Was it too much?'

'Never.'

'But I was...' She shifts slightly. 'I got carried away.'

'Hey.' You tilt her chin up. 'That's what I love about you.'

'What? Being a mess?'

'Being real.'

She burrows closer. 'Still. Sorry if I—'

'Don't you dare apologize.'

'But—'

'Want some water?'

'If you move, I'll write a very detailed exposé about you.'

'About what? My green tea addiction?'

'Chapter One: The Man Who Chose Hydration Over Cuddles.'

'Riveting.'

'Mm. I'll even include citations.'

Your fingers trace idle patterns on her arm. 'What's Chapter Two?'

'Our future kids being haunted by your tea collection.'

'Kids, huh?'

'Tiny humans who'll only drink iced americanos.'

'In winter? That's grounds for custody battle.'

She pinches your side. 'They'll be perfect.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Little artists with their mom's smile and their dad's terrible sense of humor.'

'My humor is exquisite.'

'You'll teach them to be insufferable.'

'And you'll teach them to be beautiful.'

She props herself up. Hair mussed, eyes soft. 'Where should we live?'

'Somewhere quiet. With big windows.'

'And a garden?'

'For your flowers and my tea herbs.'

'Domestic.' She wrinkles her nose. 'I like it.'

You pull her closer. 'We'll need a library.'

'For bedtime stories?'

'And quiet mornings.'

'With a reading nook?'

'Big enough for three.'

'Four,' she corrects. 'Maybe five.'

'Ambitious.'

She kisses your jaw. 'Thought you could handle anything.'

'Try me.'

'Five kids. All girls. All with my stubbornness.'

'Terrifying.'

'But worth it.'

You thread fingers through her hair. 'Worth everything.'

'Even giving up your tea collection?'

'Now you're pushing it.'

She laughs, soft and real. 'I'll let you keep the fancy cups.'

'Generous.'

'I know.' She yawns. 'I'm a catch.'

'The biggest.'

Her fingers trail your chest. 'Hey.'

'Mm?'

'Think our kids will be tall?'

'With your genes? Doubtful.'

She bites your shoulder. 'I'm average height.'

'For a garden gnome.'

'For a normal person.’ She groans.

‘—Who has been crushed ever so slightly by a hydraulic press.’

‘Ugh.’ She falls back into the bed.

‘We need a shower.’

She huffs. ‘No, I need a shower.’

‘Hm?’

‘I know what you’re gonna do: act like it’s a shower then nail me for the next half-hour in there.’

‘Oh?’

‘Don’t oh me. My legs are still sore from the cumulative effects of the past 3 days’

'Fine.' You pull her closer. 'Five more minutes.'

'Five turns into fifty with you.'

'Can you blame me?'

She traces patterns on your chest. 'I have to be at the airport by six.'

'Skip it.'

'Right. I'll just tell my company I found something better to do.'

'Like?'

'Like getting ravished by a journalist with no self-control.'

'Sounds reasonable to me.'

Her laugh is soft. Sad. 'I can’t let go of this.'

'This?'

'You.' She props herself up. 'Your stupid jokes. Your hands. The way you look at me like I'm...'

Your fingers find her hair. 'How long?'

'A week. Maybe two.'

'I'll die.'

'Drama queen.'

'No, actually die. Waste away. They'll write articles: Local Writer Perishes From Karina Deficiency.'

She smacks your chest. 'Stop.'

'My last words will be "if only she'd stayed one more day."'

'I hate you.'

'You love me.'

'Yeah.' She kisses your jaw. 'That's the problem.'

She sits up suddenly. 'Wait. What if—'

'What if?'

'My apartment in Seoul has a separate entrance. Service elevator.' The words tumble out. 'Nobody uses it except staff. And I have this office, connected to my room—'

'Jimin.'

'—could set up a desk there. Get you one of those fancy writing chairs. And there's this cafe nearby, really private, the owner's super discrete—'

You prop yourself up. Watch her plan your smuggling with bright eyes.

'The security team changes rotation at 2AM.' She's drawing invisible blueprints on your chest. 'That's when we could—'

'Breathe, baby.'

'I'm serious.' Her fingers curl against your skin. 'I've thought about this. A lot. Like, embarrassingly a lot.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' She ducks her head. 'Have the whole thing mapped out in my head. When to sneak you in. Which staff to trust. Where to hide your toothbrush.'

'My toothbrush gets its own strategic planning?'

'Everything gets strategic planning.' She looks up. 'I'd make it work. I'd make it perfect.'

'Jimin.'

'I know it's crazy.' Her voice cracks. 'But I can't—the thought of not—'

You pull her down. Kiss her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth. 'Tell me more about this secret entrance.'

She breathes against your neck. 'Really?'

'Really. Though I should warn you—'

'What?'

'My toothbrush is high-maintenance. Needs its own security detail.'

She laughs, wet and relieved. 'I'm being pathetic.'

'You're being perfect.' Your thumb catches a tear. 'And I'm taking notes.'

'Yeah?'

'Mm yeah. Finally found my title: "How to Smuggle a Writer: A Professional Hazard."'

Jimin nuzzles into you further. Purring at this moment of peace.

2 Weeks Later

Dawn creeps through her expensive curtains. She's wrapped around you like a koala, skin on skin, taking up more space than her tiny frame should allow.

You try to slip away. Her arms tighten.

'No,' she mumbles against your chest.

'Tea.'

'Lies.'

'Green tea.'

'Worse lies.'

But she lets you go, rolling into the warm spot you leave behind. You pause at the door—she's barely covered by the sheet, hair a mess across your pillow. Perfect.

The kitchen gleams in morning light. That copper kettle she insisted on buying catches the sun—"Because proper tea needs proper tools," she'd declared, like your entire existence before her was barbaric.

She pads in almost-naked just as the water's heating, with your discarded shirt from yesterday.

'Cold?'

'Miss you already.'

'I'm right here.'

'Too far.' She hooks her chin over your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. 'What blend?'

'The one you say you hate.'

'Mm. The grassy one?'

'Getting better at this.'

She hums against your skin. Already reaching for her cup—the blue ceramic one that somehow migrated from the hotel to her apartment.

First sip. Her eyes close.

'Well?'

'It’s okay.' She takes another sip. 'Bland. I guess.'

She grins wide as you turn around. Getting closer to you, inhaling the smell of your fresh t-shirt. 

'Noted.' You kiss her temple. 'Want the rest of mine too?'

'Yes.' A sleepy smile. 'But only because I love you.'

'Of course.' Your greatest triumph: her, here, stealing your tea and your heart. 'Only because of that.'

'Want breakfast?' She's already moving to the fridge.

'You're cooking?'

'Don't sound so scared.' She pulls out eggs, something that looks suspiciously gourmet. 'I've been practicing. Besides, I’m tired of eating the coal you call food, and the bacteria colony I call food.'

'Since when?'

'Since I decided to be domestic.' She hip-checks you away from the counter. 'Go sit. Let me work.'

You watch her move around the kitchen. Something's different. A nervousness in her hands, a flutter in her movements.

'Stop staring.'

She’s revelling in it, how she gets you dumb-struck every time you get a glance of her.

Too cute.

'Can't help it.'

She sets a plate in front of you. Simple breakfast. Eggs. Toast. But arranged with careful precision. Something white peeking out from under the toast.

'Fancy.' You reach for your fork.

'Wait.' Her fingers twist in your shirt. 'Look under.'

'Under the toast?'

She nods. Not breathing.

You lift the bread. There's a small note. Written as small as her hands would allow. 

‘Pregnant.’

The world stops.

'Jimin.'

'I know it's fast.' The words rush out. 'I know we just—but I've been feeling strange and the test was just sitting there in my bathroom for days and I finally—this morning while you were sleeping—'

You pull her into your lap.

'Say something.'

'When?'

'2 weeks, maybe? Remember that night after the bar?'

You remember. Of course you remember. A beautiful night.

'Are you...' Her voice small. 'Are you happy?'

You kiss her. Taste salt. Someone's crying. Maybe both of you.

'Ecstatic.' Your hand finds her stomach. Still flat. But now. But soon. 'Terrified.'

'Yeah?' She laughs through tears.

'Yeah.' You kiss her again. 'Best breakfast ever.'

'Even better than your tea?'

Instead of answering, you kiss her again.

What's tea anyway?

Fin

A/N: Goodness! They make a great couple. Hope you enjoyed!

[divinefemmexx]

Your Beauty Based On Your Nakshatras 🍒

*DISCLAIMER- This is my first observations post about the nakshatras so please bear with me! i know there is some discourse about these types of posts in the astrology community but oh well lol i just wanted to do something fun for my first time. i will make more in depth posts once i deepen my knowledge on it.

Note: This is how I see the Nakshatras other people will see differently and that’s ok!

🥀 Venus Nakshatras (Purva Phalguni, Bharani, Purva Ashadha)

-They seem to have an air of mystery in my opinion. They have the girl next door kind of beauty, think of movies where the guy sees a girl at the airport or on a train and he doesn’t see her ever again but he keeps fantasizing about her. Venusians are the type to captivate someone within one glance. They are also sensual but in a subtle way, they don’t have to do too much to show that side of them because it’s not only based on how they look but the way they talk, walk, and their personality.

Ex. Jasmine Tookes (Purva Phalguni Moon), Adele (Bharani Sun), Alina Baraz (Purva Ashadha Moon)

❤️‍🔥 Mars Nakshatras (Dhanishta, Chitra, Mrigashira)

-These people are just…SEXY! But honestly what can you expect when it comes to mars. In my opinion it seems like they can’t hide their sexiness it doesn’t matter what they wear or if they wear a lot of makeup or not they will always ooze sex appeal. They are the type to turn heads no matter what room they walk in because that’s how good they look, not only that they seem to have this confidence about them whether you see yourself that way or not others may definitely do! They are always topic of conversation.

Ex. Ana De Armas (Chitra Moon), Megan thee stallion (Dhanishta Sun), Jennifer Lawrence (Mrigashira Moon)

🌙 Moon Nakshatras (Rohini, Hasta, Shravana)

- These women have the popular girl in movies type of beauty, they are usually peoples girl crush. I notice that their physical appearance is often talked about. They appear younger than what they actually are not just physically but their demeanor, personality, and spirit. They may get stared at a lot. I will also like to add that pictures does not do these nakshatras justice at all, they are so beautiful in person similar to the moon!

Ex. Ariana Grande (Hasta Moon), Normani (Rohini Sun), Nina Dobrev (Shravana Moon)

✨Mercury Nakshatras (Ashlesha, Jyeshtha, Revati)

-They are so sultry in a dark feminine type of way. They also have RBF and can appear very intimidating. Many people might assume that mercurials are mean due to the way they look (imo they are pretty nice). They are the kind of girls that you want to talk to but they come off unapproachable so you just admire them from a far lol. I also notice they love playing with makeup looks especially their eye makeup!

Ex. Ryan Destiny (Revati Moon), Alexa Demie (Jyeshtha Sun), Megan Fox (Ashlesha Moon)

🫀Ketu Nakshatras (Magha, Ashwini, Mula)

-Ketu Nakshatras have the dark feminine vibe but more in a melancholic kind of way. Their femininity is more darker than mercurials and often dress in black or darker colors in general. they also have a very unbothered look to them. I notice that these ketuvians can be complex and very misunderstood, you think that you have them figured out but there is WAY more to them than beyond surface level. They have a haunting type of beauty! The kind of women you never forget.

Ex. Kat Dennings (Magha Moon), India Eisley (Ashwini Moon), Amy Winehouse (Mula Moon)

🌞 Sun Nakshatras (Uttara Ashada, Krittika, Uttara Phalguni)

-These hotties are bombshells. They have the ability to light up any room. They also have such a radiant aura as well. They are the "hard to get" hot girl that everyone pines over! They are usually center of attention no matter where they go. I notice that they are charismatic as well and that’s what honestly reels people in the most! In my opinion, they remind me so much of a trophy wife. Their partners love being able to tell people that you guys are married/dating.

Ex. Madelyn Cline (Uttara Phalguni ASC & Moon), Eliza Dushku (Krittika ASC), Naomi Campbell (Uttara Ashada ASC)

⚡️Rahu Nakshatras (Ardra, Swati, Shatabhisha)

-Have you heard of the quote from Scarface “The eyes, Chico. They never lie.”? Well that’s basically these nakshatras. Their eyes can tell stories and they can communicate to others very well with them. Often times they can look pretty sad even when they aren’t. Rahuvians look so dreamy, I can’t explain it, they look so soft but intense at the same time! Honestly, they are the type of girls people write about. Absolutely captivating!

Ex. Brittany Murphy (Swati Moon), Kaya Scodelario (Ardra Moon), Audrey Hepburn (Shatabhisha Moon)

🛸 Saturn Nakshatras (Pushya, Anuradha, Uttara Bhadrapada)

-Otherworldly beauty! If you go outside you won’t see many people that look like them, their beauty cannot be replicated ever and trust me they will try to! These nakshatras were blessed with alluring and unique features. Saturnians look like they came right out of a fantasy film with different beautiful creations that are not of this world. They will also kill it in modeling especially editorial/high fashion they have the type of beauty that the modeling industry goes for.

Ex. Yara Shahidi (Anuradha ASC), Angelina Jolie (Pushya ASC), Halle Bailey (Uttara Bhadrapada Sun)

💋 Jupiter Nakshatras (Punarvasu, Vishakha, Purva Bhadrapada)

-These Nakshatras are MANEATERS! no but seriously they are so seductive! They can give office siren as well. I truly believe they can make anyone get down on their knees for them. Their aura to me is pretty powerful they know exactly how to act to get people (men especially) at their beck and call. I also notice that people lust after them quite often, they could easily use that for their personal gain if they wanted to.

Ex. Penelope Cruz (Punarvasu Moon), Lily Rose Depp (Vishakha ASC), Madison Beer (Purva Bhadrapada Sun)

Yours Truly,

divinefemmexx 🖤

[cregansdingdong]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ꜰɪɴᴇ.

Cregan Stark x pregnant!fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: pregnancy fluff, the tooth rotting kind <3

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“There you are.”

There he was. Watching from the threshold of their marriage doors—the only separation between their traditional chambers—Cregan gazes over the form of his bare wife, who was enjoying a nice bath in her alcove. His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, taking her in and committing her to his memory like it was the very first time. A sleepy smile graced her perfect face, head leaned back against the edge of the tub. Just barely breaking the surface of the water was her stomach, rounded and taut with his child; her wrist had been resting on it as he entered, a letter held loosely in her hand. “I am.” He murmured, feeling himself relax just at the sight of her, and he crossed the room to sit on the chair by the tub. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now. Jace wrote to me.” She holds out the small paper to him. Cregan hums at the mention of her brother, and his eyes scan the words on the page, quietly snorting after a few moments of reading—he was as funny as he always was. Nothing new, really, in the letter. He’d mostly asked about how his sister was faring, questions about the pregnancy, and gushing over his coming nuptials to Baela. But it all brought a smile to his wife’s face anyway. Cregan felt guilty sometimes, knowing how far Winterfell was from King’s Landing. She missed her family often, but even more now that she was having a child. “He’s eager to be an uncle.” He muses, handing it back to her. “The second he learns the babe is born, he’ll be outside our quarters pouting.”

“Yes he will.” She laughs and places it off to the side. “Only a few weeks more.” Cregan peers down at her stomach, expression softened now, his hand reaching out to gently pet her bump, fingers caressing the skin. “The water is almost cold.” He notes, a slight chide in his tone. His wife nods along, obviously aware. “Mmhm. The maesters say hot baths aren’t too good for the baby—warm is fine, but it becomes tepid fairly quickly. I’m comfortable though, I promise. Supper was divine. I was craving that stew all day. And grapes, but mostly the stew. I missed you.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of his lips at her soft ramble. He loved hearing her speak—just as much as she liked to prattle his ears blue. “I assure you, wife, I missed you even more. You and our babe. How is she doing?”

“Are you truly still convinced we're going to have a girl?” She muses. Cregan gently splashes her in mock offense, tutting lightly at her teasing. “I know we're having a girl. I can feel it in my bones, wife.” He leans in, pressing a less-than-chaste kiss against her mouth, tongue just barely slivering past her supple lips. She tasted like something sweet. “Cake?” He asks, head tilted even though it wasn't really a question. She grins. “Sara brought the letter up here—and sneaked me some frosted scones from the kitchen. I love your sister.” Cregan rolls his eyes. “I should've known you two would scheme behind my back…and not leave me any. I'm your leige-Lord.” His wife reaches out to pull him in again, not satisfied with the previous kiss, and their mouths clash together nearly with a mutual clack of their teeth. "Get in." She was pulling him down into the jasmine scented water, hands fiercely tugging at the laces of his leather doublet. "This water is so damn cold—" He barely had a moment to remove his boots. "You'll be fine." What Lady Stark wants, she gets.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[starmocha]

Keep It Icy [Zayne + Son ★ 3428 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] 5 times Zayne’s son used him like a personal portable A/C + 1 time his son helps relieve his stress. A/N: I promise I love Zaynie. He’s my snookums. 🥹 Tag list: @lavlynyan @alfredosaws @solifloris @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @qyuin @asiaticapple @rainbowsnowflake @jasmines-greentea 【 request to be added 】

one month old.

The weather forecast had predicted this July Linkon City was going to experience the hottest heat wave in decades. Citizens were advised to stay indoors and keep cool whenever possible, and as much as Zayne wanted to adhere to such warnings, his home air conditioner had decided just the other day to break down.

“There’s no available repairman at this moment,” he said, walking into the kitchen to see you struggling to comfort your newborn son who had been crying nonstop for hours now. The baby had just celebrated his first month since being born, but there was little joy in the household right now with everyone feeling miserable because of the unbearable heat. Zayne continued, speaking a little louder over the baby’s cries, “They’re all booked and the earliest appointment I could make would be for next Wednesday.”

“Next Wednesday?” you questioned, shocked, “That’s still over a week away and it’s just gonna get hotter…”

He nodded in agreement. He looked worried when he noticed the exhaustion on your face. Immediately, he stepped closer with his arms outstretched. “Give him to me,” he said, reaching for the baby. Before you could protest, the baby was out of your arms and into Zayne’s. He rubbed his son’s back soothingly. “Go take a cold shower. You’ll feel more refreshed afterwards.”

“But the baby…”

“I can take care of him,” he said.

You looked at him unsure and Zayne answered with his own pointed look.

“What? Have I done anything in the past month to prove I wasn’t capable of caring for my son?”

You immediately shook your head. “Quite the opposite actually,” you said with a small smile. You eventually relented. “Alright, sorry, it’s just… new mother’s instinct, you know?”

He nodded and leaned over to kiss your cheek. “I know. Now, go. Take as long as you need to, my love.”

You kissed him back in thanks before making your way to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Zayne looked down at his crying son and sighed sympathetically. He paced around the kitchen with the newborn resting over his shoulder, rubbing his back and bouncing him gently. “I know, I know, it’s so hot, isn’t it?”

The baby rubbed his face into Zayne’s shoulder in frustration before crying louder. He started to hiccup and Zayne instantly patted his back gently as he calmly shushed his son. “Easy, easy now…”

He found himself walking to his bedroom. He could hear in the adjacent bathroom the shower running.

He settled down into bed, letting his son rest on top of his chest. He thought for a moment and then he used his ice Evol, regulating the temperature around him. It felt much nicer than before. The sudden cool temperature calmed the crying baby, his cries slowly easing before he relaxed on top of his father. As Zayne rubbed his back gently, his soft, soothing voice lulled the exhausted baby to sleep.

His own eyes drifted close, but only for a few minutes. Distantly, he heard the shower turning off and a few minutes later, he opened his eyes when he sensed your presence nearby.

You settled into bed next to him with wet hair still dripping water droplets down your top. You sighed happily. “It feels so much cooler now.”

“Indeed,” he answered.

“Maybe we don’t need that repairman then,” you teased, leaning in to wrap your arms around Zayne’s waist.

He peered down at the top of your head, quipping with mild annoyance, “I’m not an A/C that runs 24/7 you know.”

“I know,” you said breezily, not appeasing his sudden mood change. “But for now, I prefer this over our home air conditioner.”

“Oh, really…”

You giggled and nodded. You reached over and gently caressed your newborn son’s cheek, careful not to wake him. “And it looks like I’m not the only one who prefers your Evol.”

“Why do I feel like you two will be troublemakers for me to handle in the future?”

You grinned, completely delighted. “Yeah? You think he will take after me?”

You both glanced at the sleeping baby boy on Zayne’s chest with so much adoration. You sighed wistfully. “He’s still so tiny… I can’t imagine him getting bigger.”

“I know,” Zayne whispered back fondly. “Is it wrong that I almost want him to stay just like this?”

You shook your head, understanding your husband’s sentiments completely. “I can’t believe it’s already been a month since he was born,” you said softly, adding with a laugh, “I still can’t believe we’re both parents now…”

Zayne hummed back in agreement. “I can’t believe he’s really ours…”

“What if we mess up?”

“Hmm?”

“What if we make mistakes with him…”

“Are you spiraling again?”

“Zayne, I’m serious!” You pouted at him. “What if…”

“No more ‘what if’s’,” Zayne interrupted firmly. “We will probably make mistakes. It’s only natural. We’re new at this and also… we’re just humans.”

“You’re right…”

“But we’ll do our best in raising him,” Zayne continued, “He will turn out fine.”

He leaned over and kissed your forehead, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You rested your head in the crook of his arm, feeling his hand patting your side soothingly. You smiled as you watched your son sleep on top of your husband’s chest.

“We’ll all be fine,” Zayne whispered, and you relaxed in his arms, his protective presence always seeming to chase away your fears and anxieties.

“Yeah… we’ll be fine.”

twelve months old.

Zayne couldn’t believe a whole year had passed since his son was born. He paced around the nursery with the newly-turned one-year-old resting over his shoulder. The boy was quietly sucking his thumb, showing no sign of sleepiness despite it almost being midnight.

Each time Zayne had tried to put the boy down to bed, his son would start to fuss and cry until he was picked up again. Zayne sighed, knowing the exact reason for his son’s fussiness.

It was going to be another blistering hot June, matching the previous year when his son was born. Even though it was nighttime, the temperature had only cooled down to being tolerable, but to a one-year-old, it still felt unbearable.

“You’re just like your mother,” Zayne said, pretending to be upset, “You only see me as a personal portable air conditioner, don’t you?”

Not quite understanding his father, the boy giggled and pressed a wet kiss to Zayne’s cheek before dropping his head back down on his shoulder and sucking his thumb again. He idly swung his feet and clung to his father tighter.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, “I won’t mind if this is the type of payment I will receive for my service.”

Zayne resigned to his fate of pacing the nursery for a while longer, but he didn’t want to complain too much as he was quite honestly thoroughly enjoying this quiet moment of bonding with his son.

eighteen months old.

“And down,” Zayne said, carefully setting his toddler son down on a beach blanket.

Immediately, the boy turned around and scrambled to his father’s legs, his arms held up as he hopped in place, upset. “No, no, no, no!”

“Hm?”

“Up, up!”

“I’ve already carried you all the way down here,” he calmly remarked to the upset child. “Don’t you want to try walking on your own now?”

The boy furrowed his brows in frustration, not understanding why his father refused to listen to him.

You walked over and laughed, settling down next to the young toddler. You pulled your son into your lap. “Oh, Zaynie, don’t pretend like you don’t know what he wants.”

Zayne sighed. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” you pretended to glare at him. “What did I do?”

“He takes after you.”

“Excuse me, the only thing he decided to take after me was my hair color,” you said, gesturing to your son’s full head of hair. “Nine months I carried him only for him to be a near perfect clone of you.”

Zayne sat down next to you both and immediately the toddler crawled out of your lap and over to his father’s instead. You pretended to look betrayed.

“See that? No loyalty to his mother at all.”

Resigned, Zayne picked up his son and let him settled comfortably in his lap. The boy leaned against his father’s stomach and his eyes started to close before he just as quickly drifted off to sleep.

“So much for his first dip in the ocean water,” Zayne quipped with a fond smile. “We’ve wasted those plane tickets for nothing.”

You reached over and rubbed your son’s cheek affectionately, giggling. “I don’t blame him. Your Evol comes in quite handy on hot days like this.”

“See? He takes after you.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, “He is smart, just like me, knowing how to use his father.”

“That’s not—fine.”

You giggled at your husband’s scowl. You leaned over and gasped when Zayne pulled you down to lay with him and your son on the beach blanket. With your toddler on Zayne’s chest, you wrapped your arm around your husband’s waist and settled comfortably against him.

“This is nice,” you remarked.

“Mmhmm,” Zayne hummed back in agreement, his arm pulling you in closer.

“Nothing can beat having a hot husband with delicious abs and his ice Evol to keep me cool.”

“You really are something.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“I—fine.”

two years old.

“Do you see the koala bears?” Zayne asked as he knelt down next to his two-year-old son, who had insisted he could walk through the zoo by himself. Laughing, you and him allowed the toddler his freedom, staying closely to the little boy who toddled his way through the crowd, unaware of all the people who paused and smiled at the cute child who was the spitting image of his father.

You and Zayne had nodded politely at the compliments and sped along after the toddler who seemed determined to get away from you both.

“Hold still,” Zayne said lightheartedly with one arm wrapped gently around the little boy’s middle.

“B-bear!” the boy repeated, giggling as he pointed at the sleepy marsupial while his other free hand was excitedly patting his father’s forearm.

“Mmhmm,” Zayne hummed. “A koala bear. They’re not the same as your teddy bears at home, though.”

Suddenly, Zayne heard the sound of a shutter clicking and a very familiar giggle. He looked behind him, seeing you were crouched low to the ground with your phone aimed at him and your son. Instantly his eyes met your own mischievous gaze, and when he raised a brow in question, you giggled again at his perplexed look.

“Sorry,” you said, completely unapologetic, “My two boys just looked so cute. I had to take a photo.”

Zayne sighed and shook his head. “That was also what you said when we were looking at the seals earlier.”

“And I meant it then, too,” you insisted with a pout, holding your phone up again, “Now smile, Zaynie.”

Zayne laughed and pulled his son closer. He knelt on one knee and with the other leg bent, he settled his two-year-old atop, holding him steady as he pointed a finger toward your phone camera. “Now smile for Mommy, son.”

The boy smiled brightly and clapped his hands just as you took the shot.

“Perfect,” you chirped, “These will be great new photos for my desk at work.”

“Alright, son, now off you go,” Zayne said and picked his son up. He paused, frowning when he noticed the toddler seemed to resist. “What’s wrong?”

“Too hot, Daddy,” the boy whined and looked at him pleadingly. He suddenly held his arms up.

Zayne sighed. “Who was it who said he could walk through the whole zoo by himself?”

The boy shook his head furiously. “Not me! Not me!”

You and Zayne laughed. You approached the two and knelt down next to the boy. ��Do you want Mommy to carry you then, darling?”

The boy immediately shook his head again, his brows furrowing as he frowned at you with a look almost akin to annoyance. You feigned hurt and pretended to be shocked, asking him, “You don’t want Mommy anymore?”

As if he could sense your feigned hurt tone, the boy looked guilty, but only for a second before he held his arms out to his father again, completely ignoring you. “Daddy, Daddy, up, up!”

“I can’t believe I lost my only son’s love to a portable A/C,” you quipped dramatically, earning an instant glare from your husband. “Oh, Zaynie, take care of our son while I use your credit card to buy some ice cream to help me in the healing process.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he remarked, already reaching for his wallet and grabbing the credit card to hand off to you.

You leaned over and kissed his cheek, consoling him instantly. “Be right back. I’ll make sure to get you something extra sweet for today.”

Once you were out of sight, Zayne turned back to the toddler on his knee. “Mommy’s gone, aren’t you sad?”

The boy thought for a moment and then nodded quietly.

“Do you want to go after her then?”

The boy nodded excitedly and raised his arms again.

“You’re going to walk to her, right?” Zayne teased.

The boy shook his head furiously. “No, no, Daddy carry!”

“But you’re a big boy now,” Zayne reminded him solemnly, “This morning you said you could walk all by yourself.”

“But… but…”

“But?”

“…too hot, Daddy…”

Zayne laughed again at the sight of the boy’s pitiful pout. He gave him a quick hug before lifting him up into his arms, smiling at his son’s instant giggles. “Alright, alright,” Zayne said, acquiescing, “Your personal portable A/C is in service now.”

“Yay!”

He laughed helplessly at his son’s enthusiastic cheer. “Sometimes I wonder if you see me as your father or just a portable A/C…”

“Mm… both!” the boy answered, not understanding his father’s sarcasm.

Zayne laughed again and leaned down to nuzzle his cheek against his son. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said, “Now, let’s go find Mommy and those ice cream she had promised us.”

“Ice cream!” the boy cheered and hugged his father tighter.

Along the way, Zayne couldn’t help but noticed numerous passersby pointing at them both, hearing the occasional delighted remarks about their physical similarities or the boy’s bright personality. He knew he should be a little more discreet, but his expression was one full of pride. It seemed ever since his son was born, Zayne was always finding each new day with his child a rewarding joy, this happiness so indescribable and infinite, he wanted to hold onto the feeling for as long as he could.

three years old.

Zayne wondered if he ever had as much energy as his three-year-old son when he was the same age. He found it doubtful. An afternoon in the park had somehow lasted for hours well past the boy’s usual naptime, and now suddenly there was the twilight glow quietly ushering in nightfall.

“Daddy!” the boy called out to his father as he slid down a slide and into his father’s waiting arms. He laughed and clung to his father tightly as little beads of sweat glistened down the side of his head. It had been a long, hot afternoon of running, climbing, and jumping from one playground equipment to the next. He hummed happily and buried his face into his father’s shoulder.

Zayne chuckled and lifted him up, carrying him easily in one arm. “What’s this? Are you doing what I think you are doing?”

The boy smiled cheekily at him in response. “Daddy feels so cool.”

He smiled helplessly at his son’s honest response. “I’m still nothing but a portable A/C to you, aren’t I?”

He tickled his son and the boy laughed and wriggled in his arms, though Zayne just tightened his hold. “N-no, no, Daddy!” he cried out amid his giggles.

As he held his son, still tickling him mercilessly, Zayne couldn’t help but noticed how much time had passed already and how big the little boy in his arms was getting. Each day, he seemed to take on more of Zayne’s appearance, the same shade of green in his eyes always looking at his father with such happiness and admiration.

Normally more rational, Zayne couldn’t help the silly thought that came suddenly. It wouldn’t be that silly of him—or even selfish of him–if he wished time could just slow down a bit, wanting his little boy to stay little for a while longer.

Unwittingly, he held the boy tighter that evening as the sun began to set, missing the toddler’s confused look under the darkening sky. Slowly, one by one, the lamps in the park lit up along all of the pathways. Zayne remained quiet, lost in his bittersweet thoughts, unaware of his son’s worried look.

Quietly, the little boy leaned in and kissed his father’s cheek, surprising him and breaking him out of his sudden trance, with that little assurance in spite of not understanding why his father seemed sadder now when just a few moments ago he was smiling and laughing.

His small arms wrapped around his father’s neck. “I love you, daddy.”

Zayne breathed in sharply, almost surprised, before he laughed softly and hugged his son back, his cheek nuzzling against his son’s hair. “I love you, too, my sweet little boy.”

+ one

He was finally done.

Zayne sighed as he closed an email he had just finished responding to. It was the last one out of the numerous emails he had spent the past two hours reading and responding. On top of that, he still had some medical reports to review and an important phone conference to attend to at one in the afternoon. The day was far from over, but even he could feel the beginning of a migraine settling in.

He leaned back in his chair, his eye peeking behind to the door of his home office, noticing it was opened ajar. He swiveled his chair enough to glance at the door, catching sight of the small shadow disappearing with a surprised gasp.

He swiveled his chair around again, pretending to sigh dramatically. “I’m so tired all of a sudden… If only I have my little doctor here to treat me…”

“Here I am, Daddy!”

Zayne turned his chair fully around this time, laughing when he saw his three-year-old son pushing the door open and rushing into his office while carrying a small plastic briefcase.

“What’s this? A personal house call?”

He picked his son up, settling him comfortably on his lap. “And you’ve brought your briefcase?”

The boy nodded happily.

“What do you have in your briefcase, doctor?” he asked, “Will it cure me of my current ailment?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, then, let’s check together, won’t we?” Zayne set the briefcase on his desk next to his laptop. He opened it and pretended to gasp. “Now, what do you have to treat my exhaustion, doctor?”

The boy hummed and peered into his toy briefcase before grabbing a plastic snack bowl. “Teddies!”

Zayne took the snack bowl from his son, opening the plastic lid on top and stared at the little teddy bear-shaped graham crackers. He laughed. “I see, and how many should I take, doctor?”

The boy furrowed his brows thoughtfully before holding up two chubby fingers.

“Two? Alright,” Zayne answered and grabbed two crackers, popping them both into his mouth to eat. He set the snack bowl aside. “Okay, is there anything else, doctor?”

“Uh… this…!” The boy pulled out a small cloth and proceeded to wipe his father’s brows, making Zayne laughed.

“Okay, okay, I think I’m good now.”

The boy smiled proudly and dropped the cloth, letting it fall to the floor. “One more, Daddy!”

“One more? One more what?”

Suddenly, his son leaned in and kissed his cheek, surprising Zayne.

He smiled at his son, touched by the little boy’s thoughtfulness and concern. He hugged him a little tighter. “Doctor… I still don’t feel well. Perhaps, I need a few more kisses to cure me of my ailment?”

Without any hesitation, his son started to kiss his cheek repeatedly in quick successions, making Zayne laughed after each peck. After a minute, he stopped the toddler with a smile and his own kisses, overjoyed at the sound of his son’s sweet little giggles.

“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing his son’s temple, “for being my stress relief.”

[amourjae]

BIRTHDAY SEX ! ( park jongseong )

SYN ❕ don’t need candles or cake, just your body to make

★ female!reader────── 85O words 🐚 overall smut ( 18+ ) MDNI

the second jay walks in, he knows something’s different.

the apartment is quiet, but not empty. the air smells warm—faint jasmine, a trace of candle wax, and something else. something softer. like the skin of your neck when you’ve just put lotion on.

he drops his bag by the door and looks toward the hallway, eyes narrowing. the lights are low, the usual overheads turned off, replaced by something gentler—amber and flickering, bleeding from under the bedroom door.

he pushes it open slowly.

and stops breathing for a second.

you’re sitting in the center of his bed, legs tucked neatly under you, wearing the kind of lace that doesn’t hide anything—just hints, just enough to burn. your shoulders are bare. your lips are glossed. there’s a single candle glowing on the nightstand, casting light across your cheekbones and the top of your thighs. the room smells like you. like home. like need.

you smile, but there’s a nervous twitch to it.

“happy birthday,” you say, barely above a whisper.

his gaze drags over your body like a hand, slow and purposeful. his chest rises, his jaw flexes.

“what’s this?” he asks, voice already heavier.

“a surprise,” you say softly. “i wanted to give you tonight. however you want it.”

jay doesn’t move right away. he just stares. you watch the shift in his expression as the weight of your words lands—first surprise, then curiosity, then something darker.

he steps closer.

“and you’re sure?” he asks, fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. “you’re giving me everything tonight?”

“yes,” you whisper, heat blooming in your chest. “only you.”

his tongue drags across his bottom lip, slow.

“then lie back for me.”

you do.

his knees sink into the bed beside your legs. his hands move over you like he’s not just undressing you, but unwrapping something meant only for him. he pushes the slip up, up, past your waist, until the lace pools around your ribs.

he watches every inch of skin like he’s cataloging it. committing it to memory. like your body is a gift, and tonight, he gets to be greedy.

“eyes on me,” he murmurs, dragging two fingers slowly down your thigh. “i want to see everything when i touch you.”

he leans down, kisses your collarbone—just a brush. then your sternum. then your stomach.

his mouth is hot and soft and unhurried.

his hands press your thighs apart gently, fingertips trailing the sensitive inside edges.

“you’re already wet,” he murmurs. “you were waiting like this?”

“for you,” you breathe.

he groans under his breath, leaning in—tongue sliding between your folds, slow and precise, tasting like he has all night.

your head falls back. his grip tightens around your hips when you try to move, grounding you.

“stay still,” he says against your skin, voice rough, teasing. “just take it.”

he works you open with his mouth, pulling moans from your throat like he owns them. your hands claw at the sheets, every muscle tight with restraint. he doesn't stop until you’re panting, thighs trembling, dangerously close.

you gasp his name, desperate—“jay—please—”

he pulls away. his lips shine. his eyes are blown wide with want.

“not yet,” he says. “you’ll come on my cock.”

he strips slow, letting you watch every inch of skin reveal. the slope of his chest. the line of his stomach. the thick length of him, hard and flushed and heavy in his palm as he strokes himself once, twice.

then he’s crawling over you again, settling between your legs like he belongs there.

“tell me what you want,” he murmurs, voice dragging like velvet.

“you. all of you,” you say, breathless. “please.”

he groans low, rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance, collecting slick. then he pushes in—one long, smooth thrust that fills you completely. your back arches, a sound caught in your throat. the stretch is perfect. overwhelming.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes. “you feel—so fucking good. you’re mine.”

he rolls his hips, deep and steady. his hand cups the side of your face as he moves, thumb brushing your cheek, even as his pace builds.

“say it,” he murmurs. “say who you belong to.”

“you,” you gasp. “i’m yours, jay.”

he fucks you like he needs the words branded onto you. his other hand grabs your thigh, lifts it higher, opens you wider. he kisses you between thrusts—messy, open-mouthed, like he needs to feel every part of you at once.

your moans get breathier, your walls tighten around him.

“don’t stop—i’m close—”

his rhythm doesn't falter. “come with me, baby. right now.”

you fall over the edge together—his name breaking from your lips as your body clenches around him, his groan deep as he spills inside you, pressing his forehead to yours, still rocking gently through it.

you’re both breathless, skin damp, hearts pounding in sync.

he collapses beside you and immediately pulls you into his arms, your head on his chest.

his voice is soft, but still low. “that was the best birthday of my life.”

you smile, eyes closed, fingers tracing his ribs.

“i know. i planned it that way.”

vee : i’m late but, happy birthday to jay! i yearn for him oh god CLICK FOR PALESTINE ( don’t forgot to rb and follow, xo )

[delilahsturniolo]

YOU WANNA HUG ME?

WHAT RHYMES WITH HUG ME?

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . chris and matt know how to make you fall apart for them.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . smut, threesome but obviously no incest or interaction between matt or chris, oral, (fem!recieving) boob play, dirty talk, pet names, degradation, body worship, fingering, teasing, lemme know if i forgot anythingg.

the air in the dimly lit bedroom throbbed with a raw, electric tension, thick with the musky scent of desire and the faint sweetness of jasmine from a candle flickering on the nightstand. shadows danced wildly across the walls, cast by the dozen candles scattered around, their golden flames reflecting off the deep crimson sheets of the king-sized bed that dominated the space. outside, the muffled roar of city traffic seeped through the cracked window, but it was nothing compared to the pulse pounding in the room, the anticipation so palpable you could taste it on your tongue, metallic and hot.

matt lounged across the chaise with the ease of a predator at rest, his dark brown hair falling in tousled waves over his forehead, framing a face carved from sharp angles and shadowed stubble. his hazel eyes glinted with a wicked, knowing smirk as he watched you, the candlelight catching the silver stud in his ear and the chain at his neck that dipped into the v of his black t-shirt, stretched tight over broad shoulders and a chest that rippled with every lazy breath. his jeans, faded and snug, clung to his muscular thighs, the denim worn soft at the knees, and his bare feet—tanned and calloused—flexed against the velvet of the chaise, toes curling slightly as if testing the air. his lips curling into a grin that was all teeth and trouble. “fuck, look at you,” he drawled, his voice a low growl that rumbled through the room like distant thunder. “been so hard all day just thinking about getting you naked and messy between us. y’ready to let us wreck you, sweetheart?”

chris, perched on the edge of the bed, was a stark contrast—a sleek, polished edge to matt’s rough-hewn charm. his brunette hair was swept back with meticulous care, not a strand out of place, revealing the sharpness of his jaw and the piercing blue of his eyes that burned with a quiet intensity. he wore a crisp white button-up, unbuttoned halfway to show the smooth planes of his chest, the fabric clinging to his frame. he grinned, it was sharp and hungry, a flash of white teeth that promised sin. “oh mama, we’re gonna ruin you tonight,” he murmured, his voice smooth as velvet, each word dripping with heat. he patted the white sheets beside him, fingers brushing the fabric in a slow, tantalizing circle. “come here, baby. let’s see just how much you can take.”

the room seemed to shrink, the space between you crackling with unspoken promises as their gazes locked on you, unrelenting and molten. matt set his glass down with a deliberate clink on the nightstand, the sound sharp in the heavy silence, and leaned forward, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a strip of tanned skin and the dark trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans. “what’s it gonna be, huh?” he rasped, his eyes dark with intent. “you gonna make us beg for it, or you gonna come over here and let us show you how good it can get?”

chris stood in one fluid motion, closing the distance with the grace of a panther, stopping just inches from you. the heat of his body radiated like a furnace, his cologne—a rich blend of spice and cedar—filling your lungs as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “we’re gonna take our time with you,” he whispered, his voice a seductive promise. “gonna fuck you slow, feel every inch of that tight little pussy clenching around us, then hard—pounding you ‘til you’re screaming our names, begging for more. you want that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

matt was on his feet now, stalking toward you with a lazy, predatory demeanor. he stopped on your other side, caging you between them, his presence overwhelming, all heat and muscle and raw need. his hand hovered near your hip, fingers twitching as if fighting the urge to grab, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in close. “yeah, that’s right,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “gonna spread those pretty thighs wide, see that slick little cunt dripping for us. two thick cocks, baby—one after the other, stretching you out ‘til you can’t even think straight. you wanna feel that, don’t you? wanna be our good little slut, taking everything we give you, huh?

their words were filthy, unrelenting, each syllable stoking the fire low in your belly, making your skin prickle with heat. chris’s fingers brushed the hem of your shirt, teasing the bare skin beneath, while matt’s breath grazed your collarbone, his lips so close you could almost feel them. “tell us what you want,” chris purred, his blue eyes locking onto yours, dark with promise. “we’re yours tonight—mama. just say the word, and we’ll make you scream.”

the invitation hung in the air, bold and dripping with sin, their eyes burning into you as they waited, every muscle in their bodies taut with anticipation. the room was a furnace now, the candlelight casting their shadows large and looming, the music a heartbeat beneath the pounding of your own pulse. matt’s smirk widened, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he murmured, “don’t keep us waiting, sweetheart..” matt smiled as you slowly made your way onto the bed.

matt’s hand finally made contact, his calloused fingers grazing your waist, a featherlight touch that sent a jolt straight to your core. “look at you, all flushed and needy,” he growled, his hazel eyes dark with lust as they raked over you. “gonna peel every fucking layer off you, baby. wanna see those tits bounce when we fuck you, hear you scream our names ‘til your voice gives out.” chris’s hand joined the fray, his touch cooler, more deliberate as his fingers skimmed up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “mm, we’re gonna make you feel so good,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “gonna take turns, mama. matt’s gonna fuck you deep and rough, then I’ll slide in, slow and hard, stretch that tight little cunt ‘til you’re sobbing for mercy. you want that, don’t you? twitter cocks owning you, making you ours.”

their words were a relentless assault, each one dirtier than the last, coiling tight in your gut like a spring ready to snap. matt’s grip tightened on your waist, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh just above your hipbone, while chris’s fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face toward him. “say it.” chris urged, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “tell us you’re ours tonight, baby. tell us you want us to fuck you ‘til you can’t walk straight.” and you obeyed, arching against the bed as you laid on your back, looking up at them as they kneeled between your legs. “please fuck me—can’t take it anymore..” you gasped.

matt chuckled, a low, filthy sound that vibrated through you as he pressed closer, his chest brushing yours, his breath hot and ragged. “shit, I bet she’s soaked through already.” he rasped, his free hand hovering near your thigh, itching to dive lower. “gonna spread those legs wide, sweetheart, see that pussy glistening for us. you gonna take us so good, aren’t you? " chris started speaking. “fuck, look at her.” he said to chris, his voice thick with awe as he knelt between your legs, his jeans straining against the bulge already pressing hard against the denim. his fingers dug into your thighs, spreading them wide, the cool air hitting your skin like a shock as he stared down, eyes wild. “gonna eat this pussy ‘til you’re begging me to stop.”

matt’s hands were on your waistband in an instant, yanking your pants down with a grunt, the fabric dragging rough against your skin before pooling at your ankles. he tossed them aside carelessly, his focus zeroing in on the thin strip of lace clinging to your hips. “holy shit..” he breathed, his thumbs hooking under the edges of your panties, peeling them down slow, savoring every inch revealed. the lace stuck slightly, clinging to the wetness already soaking through, and he groaned, deep and guttural, as he tugged them free. “fuckin’ drenched already. you’re a dirty little slut for us, aren’t you?”

chris’s laugh was soft and wicked as he slid a hand under your shirt, pushing it up to expose the swell of your breasts still trapped in their bra. his fingers deftly unhooked the clasp, letting the fabric fall away, and he hissed in appreciation at the sight. “look at these..” he murmured, his thumb brushing over one nipple, watching it harden under his touch. “gonna suck these pretty tits ‘til you’re grinding on matt’s face, beggin’ for cock.” his mouth descended, hot and wet, latching onto you with a slow, deliberate pull that sent a bolt of heat straight between your legs.

matt’s head dipped lower, his stubble scraping the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he spread you wider, his breath hot against your core. “fuck, so good,” he muttered, his tongue darting out to trace a slow, teasing line along your slit, tasting the slickness there. “gonna make this pussy mine first—sweetheart.” matt’s lips closed over you, sucking hard, and the room filled with the wet, obscene sound of his mouth working you over, relentless and hungry.

chris pulled back just enough to watch, his hand still kneading your breast as he grinned down at matt. “she’s already moaning—listen to that,” he said, his voice rough with arousal. “keep going, man. I wanna hear her scream before we fuck her senseless.” his mouth returned to your chest, teeth grazing your nipple this time, a sharp edge of pleasure-pain that had you arching off the bed, caught between their twin assaults. the night was going to stretch long, and you knew that. with matt and chris’s dirty words and teasing touches? you were done for. so fuckin’ done for.

© delilahsturniolo

[covenofagatha]

Sex therapy

Your sexual life has been...lacking for the past year. Enter sex therapist Dr. Agatha Harkness to help you out.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: patient x therapist, mentions of sex and masturbation, guided orgasm, dirty talk

A/N: we just learned about sexual disorders in one of my classes and my professor kept talking about sex therapy lol so here we go (I hope this is good/hot I just genuinely couldn't stop thinking about it and had to write something) and maybe part 2?

The first thing you notice when you open the door to the waiting room is the smell. 

It’s slightly earthy with a hint of honeysuckle and sweet undertones. Not unpleasant, but it does little to calm your nerves. 

The lobby is small, cozy almost, with only four gray chairs tucked against one wall and a rectangular wooden coffee table in front of them with a short stack of magazines on it. 

Across from the furniture is the front desk and you step in front of it, waiting for the blonde receptionist sitting behind it to look up at you. She’s typing something on the computer and in the reflection of her glasses, it looks like she’s filling out a form. 

After standing there for a few moments, you clear your throat, trying to make it sound natural and not pointed. It works and the lady looks up at you with a smile that looks like more of a grimace. 

“How can I help you?” she asks. You tell her your name and she scrolls down on her screen before clicking. “First time?” 

“Oh, um, yes,” you answer, cheeks heating up. 

She looks you up and down. “You can go ahead and have a seat, you’re all checked in. Dr. Harkness will be with you shortly.” 

Muttering a quick “Thank you,” you pick the chair closest to the exit to settle into and anxiously tap your fingers against your leg. 

You barely have time to rethink your decision when a door on the wall of the front desk opens and a woman steps out. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a few strands loose and framing her face. She’s wearing white pants and a blue and gray striped shirt with black ankle boots. Black glasses rest on her nose. She looks around futilely—for there’s no one else in the room—before her eyes fall on you. 

She calls your name. You wipe your hands on your pants, swallow roughly, and stand up, nodding with a stiff smile. She beckons you forward and you obey, feeling a tug in your gut.  

“I’m Dr. Harkness,” she says warmly, pushing the door even more open so you can walk by her. You pause so she can get in front of you and she takes you down to the second door on the left. “But you can call me Agatha. I want you to feel comfortable while we’re here.” 

She opens it for you and you feel her hand on your lower back, guiding you in. It’s a small room, dark with about ten lit candles. There’s a warm scent of vanilla and jasmine and you deeply inhale. 

Agatha steps in next to you and the door closes shut behind you both. She points to the blue couch across from a chair. “Why don’t you have a seat there?”

The cushion dips under you as you perch on the edge and Agatha sits down in the chair and crosses one leg over the other, grabbing the yellow notepad from the side table and a pen in her left hand. You’re not exactly sure where to look—at the posters on the wall? At your fingers? At her? Who talks first? Should you say something?

She clicks the pen. “So, do you want to start with what brought you here to sex therapy?

You cringe at the words. Sex therapy is definitely not something you’d ever even think of. You didn’t even know what it was until about three weeks ago. It’s a bit unnerving how she just wants to get right into it—although, what kind of small talk were you expecting?—but you suppose you’re paying for a session so you might as well get the most of it.

“Um, I just…I just haven’t been having good sex lately. Like, I haven’t been feeling much at all and it’s fine, but I just can’t really focus or get into it, you know?” You pick at imaginary lint on your pants to avoid having to meet Agatha’s scrutinizing gaze. “I got a little drunk a month or so ago and was complaining to a friend about it. She said I should look into this and you were the closest therapist to me.”

Your friend had laughed when you told her that you hadn’t had an orgasm in about a year but her eyebrows had then shot up when she realized you were serious. She had promptly pulled out her phone and searched sex therapists near me. You had reluctantly moved next to her to scroll through the results and she let out a low whistle when she got to Agatha’s practice. She’d shown you the headshot of the woman sitting in front of you and you had to pretend to be unimpressed. 

But really, you felt more heat in your stomach than you had in awhile. 

“When did this start happening? When did you start noticing that you weren’t really feeling much?” 

It takes you a moment to ponder the question. Things had been relatively good with your ex-girlfriend two years ago. You had been together for almost two years before things just fizzled out. Both of you had decided the break up was for the best, even though the sex was normally pretty good. 

After that, there had been a series of hook-ups and flings, mostly casual sex that never turned into anything more. It had been alright, nothing special. You came about half the time. 

But then you’d gotten a promotion at work about a year ago and started seeing someone more seriously and sex turned into a chore. And when you did have sex, you stared blankly at the ceiling and couldn’t stop from thinking about all the work you had to do or making a grocery list in your head or desperately trying to will yourself to be into your girlfriend’s tongue on your clit but it just felt like nothing. 

It wasn’t her fault, no, the problem was you. Even masturbating seemed hard and you’d end up stopping in the middle of a session just because you weren’t getting anywhere. 

She had broken up with you about three months ago because you started rejecting her advances or just wanted to focus on her. You could make her come with no problem, but you shied away from her touch after, because even faking it was getting to be too much work. 

You haven’t even tried having sex since then. Seeing a therapist for your problem was clearly a long time coming and you’re not sure why you didn’t think about it sooner. 

“I don’t know, work has just become a lot and it’s hard to keep my mind from wandering while I’m having sex. I don’t know what changed—can stress really just kill your libido?” 

Agatha hums and frowns. “Sometimes. It’s not usual for it to essentially turn off feeling though. How’s the foreplay been before having sex?”

Shrugging, you pick at the skin on your cuticles. It’s a bit weird being this open about it with someone you just met. “Um, it’s not bad. There is foreplay. And I mean, there isn’t a problem with lubrication or anything.” Your cheeks heat up and you dare to peek up at Agatha. 

She’s staring at you with an intense look. It makes a strange feeling grow in your stomach, something akin to arousal if you had to put a name to it. 

“Are you actually attracted to the people you’re having sex with?” 

“What?—Of course,” you snap. She holds up her hands in defense and writes something on the notepad. But now that you think about it, and not that you’d ever tell her, you’re not sure that you have because you’ve never had the physical reaction you’re having to her with anyone else. 

Which is just great, really. Leave it to you to be attracted to your sex therapist, the one person who is arguably off-limits. 

Then you start to wonder if this happens often for her. Do her other patients blur the lines, start associating her with sex? You don’t actually know what you’re going to be doing in these sessions, but you could definitely see some lines being crossed in your head. 

“Are there any needs you have that might not be fulfilled in your sex life? Any kinks, fetishes, things you like that you aren’t engaging in that could bring you pleasure?” she asks, looking at you expectantly. 

How can she be so calm when it feels like you’re about to explode? “Not that I know of,” you answer hoarsely. 

“Hm. No choking or bondage or pain?” 

You choke on your own saliva. “I mean, I’m sure I like it as much as the next person, but it’s not necessary.” 

A wry smile plays on her lips at your attempt at deflective humor. “Daddy kink? Mommy kink? Degradation? Praise?” 

“I…I don’t know,” you rasp. For the first time in almost a year, you think you might actually want to touch yourself. 

Agatha thinks for a moment. “Well, first of all, you might want to experiment a little and see if there’s something you might like that will enhance your pleasure. A lot of patients find that impact play and things like that actually help clear your mind so you’re able to focus on just the sensation.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. How do I experiment? Can you help me? 

“But another thing you can try is sexual mediation. It centers around the practice of mindfulness and it’s a focus on sensuality and the current state of your body. Do you have a partner who can help you with this?” 

Shaking your head, you think you might see a gleam in her eyes. 

“That’s okay. You first want to find a quiet place with no distractions. Your bedroom would be a great place. Dim the lights, maybe light a candle, whatever helps set the mood. Sit on the floor and get comfortable; you can either lie down or sit up—”

“Do I wear clothes?” you interrupt, feeling bad immediately. 

She just smiles gently. “You can wear something loose or nothing at all, whatever your preference is. You can play music if that will help you tune other things out."

There’s a visible difference in her demeanor now, almost like she’s coming alive. Her hands gesture animatedly and her pupils are blown out and looking wildly all over your body. 

“Close your eyes and try to remain aware of your surroundings. Pay attention to your body, your breath, and any sounds. As you inhale, pull the air into your abdomen and imagine the stress leaving your body as you exhale. If stray thoughts get in, just accept them and move on. Visualize your body—visualize your desire. I like to tell my patients to think of it as an orb inside you. It starts out small, in your vagina, and then it grows bigger and spreads throughout you. Feel it spread.” 

Your chest is rapidly falling and rising, a sheen of sweat beading on your forehead. There’s an ache inside you right now—your orb of desire is red-hot and throbbing. 

“Try to be aware of your own body and what you’re feeling. The goal is heightened awareness, which can lead to increased arousal. If you have a partner, once you’re done visualizing yourself, shift that focus to your partner and think about how they’re feeling. If not, you can think about someone you find attractive or just skip this step entirely.” 

It feels like she put that part in there just to taunt you. Like she knows you find her attractive. You can’t think about her though, that would be so wrong. How would you come in here again and look her in the eye, knowing you had fantasized about her?

“Sexual meditation should take about twenty minutes and then you move on to intercourse or masturbation. The hope is that clearing your mind beforehand will allow your body to feel more. There’s things you can do with a partner, but for now, why don’t you start with trying that?” 

Your mouth is suddenly very dry. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Oh—what if it doesn’t work?”

Agatha smirks, eyes traveling down your body and back up to your face. “Then come back and see me.” 

——

You’re almost hoping that this doesn’t work, just so you’d have the excuse to go back and see her. 

But then it would mean that you could enjoy sex again, so that would definitely be the bigger win here. 

The lights in your room are turned off with four lit candles, all smelling like something different, resting on your dresser. You decide to strip down to just your bra and your underwear and sit criss-cross on a pillow on the floor. The silence is too loud so you grab your phone and turn on ocean noises. You’ve always felt more relaxed at the beach. 

Settling onto the pillow and shifting to get comfortable, you close your eyes and try to remember all of Agatha’s instructions. You inhale deeply, feeling your lungs expand, and then push out the air and imagine your stress seeping out of your bones. 

At work, you had to fix what could have been a very bad mistake if someone hadn’t caught it in the nick of time. But there could still be consequences if your boss found out and—If stray thoughts get in, just accept them and move on.

Another deep breath. 

Smell the mix of citrus and vanilla cinnamon and lavender and pumpkin. 

The air conditioning has goosebumps peppering with goosebumps but it keeps your mind sharp. 

The orb of desire. 

You picture it, red and glowing, small as a seed at first. It’s settled deep in your cunt. The image of Agatha smiling at you flashes against your eyelids and the orb grows to the size of a grape. 

No, not her! 

Agatha’s hands flutter around the air while she tells you exactly what to do to make yourself feel good. 

Stop! She’s your therapist! 

The alarm from your mind shatters the focus you had and the orb is completely gone. You grunt as you struggle and try to bring it back. Agatha won’t know if you’re thinking about her—in fact, if the thoughts get you to an orgasm, she’d probably be happy for you. 

But it’s too late. The moment is gone, the now-odorous blend of scents makes your head hurt, and you’re feeling vaguely confused by what is right and wrong. 

You might want to see an actual therapist about your self-sabotaging tendencies. 

——

“The meditation didn’t work?” Agatha asks a week later after taking a long sip from her coffee mug when you go back to see her. She’s wearing a black sweater and gray pants, hair loose, and it’s making your stomach feel fuzzy. You’re not actually sure why you came back but now you still can’t come and you’re sexually frustrated. 

Is that an improvement? Some might say it is. At least you’re feeling something. You had given in a day after your failed attempt at meditating and touched yourself, letting yourself think about Agatha, but each time you got close to an orgasm, you just couldn’t. 

“It helped a little,” you tell her truthfully. “I got in tune with my body and desire like you said. It actually felt good when I moved onto masturbation. But…” 

You trail off so she can hopefully fill in the gaps without you having to say more. She nods knowingly. “I see. It is a lot harder to sexually meditate on your own—it doesn’t always work.” 

The air gets sucked out of your lungs and your heart skips a beat. What is she suggesting? 

Agatha gestures to the ground. “We can try it, if you’d like.” 

A sound tears itself out from your throat, somewhere between a strangled gasp and a choke. 

She smirks. “Of course, without the sex.” 

You nod like it should’ve been obvious, feeling your face flush. “How does it work?” 

“Well first, let’s get comfortable,” she says, putting her notepad down on the side table and standing up. She kicks off her sandals, hikes up her pants just a little, and sits down on the floor, crossing one leg over the other. 

She nods to the spot across from her and you scramble to assume the same position. Now that you’re closer to her, maybe three feet between you, you can see the lines and creases on her face. You think they only make her more attractive. Her blue eyes look more gray today and you try not to look down at her lips. 

“Close your eyes,” she says and you do, enveloping your vision in darkness. You can feel your muscles tense but you roll back your shoulders and take a deep breath. The stiffness lessens. “Good job, there you go.” 

Her murmuring makes you shiver and there’s a slight melodic chuckle. 

“Work on breathing and getting in touch with your surroundings and then go through your five senses and tell me what you’re aware of.”

In…out…in…out…you lose yourself and almost forget what she asked you to do until she moves slightly and reminds you that you’re not alone. 

“I see my orb of desire,” you whisper. She hums softly. “It’s in my lower stomach, red, but small. I hear you, your breathing, and the rattle of the air conditioning. I can smell the candles, vanilla and jasmine. It’s good, calming. I can taste the spearmint from the gum I had in the car on my way here. And I can feel my body.” 

“Good,” Agatha says. “Focus on the orb. Feel it growing with your desire. Think about sex—think about lips on yours, moving down to kiss your chest, your breasts, hands on your hips holding you in place.” 

Your breath comes out gravelly and you imagine Agatha doing all that to you. Her lips on yours, her hands on your hips. You squirm despite yourself and swear that she’s smirking. The orb burns brighter, pulsing in time with your clit. 

When was the last time you were this wet? 

Agatha’s voice drops deeper. “Feel your partner running their fingers through your folds, teasing you, giving you pleasure.” 

A small moan escapes your lips and you’re momentarily distracted by praying that she didn’t hear it. 

“Feel the tension in your core increasing. Feel yourself becoming wetter. Feel your desire expanding and encompassing your body, your mind, all of you.” 

There’s a slight rustling noise and you sense her presence even closer to you now. You think you might be sucking air through a straw with how hard it’s become to breathe. 

Smooth skin touches your hands and you almost jump. Agatha slides her palms over yours and the sparks run straight to your cunt. Your head is spinning but simultaneously is the clearest it’s ever been. 

She takes over your senses—you can hear only her words and the way her tone becomes lighter and breathier, you can see only her in your mind, you can smell the coffee she was drinking, and she’s touching you—completely and utterly overwhelming you until there’s only her. 

You just wish you could find out how she tastes. 

“Focus on me now,” Agatha says, strangely affected. “Think about my body and my feelings. Think about my orb, my desire, and how it might be growing.” 

There’s an ache inside you that won’t go away, an ache that’s filling you up and leaving you hungry for something you can’t have. Your cunt is clenching, trying to draw something in that isn’t there, and when you shift forward just the slightest, there’s a pressure on your sensitive clit that makes you gasp. 

“I want you to think about your partner finally giving you what you want,” she purrs and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Think about that moment when your partner slips their fingers into you, that moment of relief when you get what you’ve been waiting for.” 

It’s like you can feel it through just the touch of her hands on yours. You can imagine Agatha’s fingers gently thrusting into you for the first time, curling and immediately knowing what to do. 

There’s a thrumming under your skin that’s only getting worse, a tightening in your stomach. You haven’t felt this way in so long you almost don’t recognize it. 

You peer through your eyelids just in time to catch her pink tongue darting out and licking her lips and a pang of heat blasts through you. 

Now you can’t stop imagining her tongue on you, delving into your folds, circling your clit. 

Can she see how much of a mess you are right now? Does she like it? The thought makes your breath stutter. 

“Picture your pleasure as a flowing river,” she says thickly, hotly. “Up until now, it’s been hitting a dam. It’s being blocked. But we’re going to break it.” 

Agatha’s fingers start moving against your palm, dragging them up so they’re curled before sliding them back down. It’s soothing, grounding, but also indicative of what she would be doing if she was inside your cunt right now. 

Is that why she’s doing it? 

She presses harder and you can almost feel the stroking movements in your pussy, like she’s fucking you and filling you and proving that there’s nothing wrong with you. Her knees brush against yours and you shiver again. You’ve never felt more alive. 

“Let yourself become one with pleasure. Let it overtake you, let it overwhelm you. Feel your partner’s lips on your skin, sucking on your nipples, feel your walls clench around their fingers, feel their thumb on your clit. It’s so good it makes your eyes water and you’re dripping and you’re about to come—let yourself come.”

For the first time in a year, the dam breaks. The tension snaps. It’s more intense than you remember an orgasm ever being and your mind goes white briefly. 

“Agatha,” you moan softly, jerking your hips forward to prolong your pleasure with some pressure on your clit, and then you realize what you just said. 

Your eyes shoot open, a hazy cloud still hanging over you, to find the color in her eyes almost completely swallowed by a hot darkness. Her cheeks are flushed slightly—you’d probably miss it if you weren’t sitting so close—and her tongue runs out across her lips again. 

“I’m so sorry,” you exclaim, clamping a hand over your mouth. 

She smirks and waves a hand, brushing it off. “I’m flattered, honey. What’s really important is that you had an orgasm. How do you feel?” 

The dopamine is still giving you a high that you don’t want to ever come down from. “Really good,” you answer honestly and she laughs. 

“Well, I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made in only two sessions.” She stands up and you follow. Agatha starts walking to the door and it sobers you up a little for her to be throwing you out so quickly after that. She sees your crestfallen look and winks. “It’s my lunch break. And I need to take care of a few things.” 

The suggestive tone is not lost on you and you feel another burst of heat. Would it be stupid of you to ask if you could stay? 

Yes, you decide. 

But you do ask, “So, is this it, then? I’m cured; I don’t have to come back?” 

Agatha shrugs with a twinkle in her eye. “Totally up to you. Although, I’d recommend at least a few more sessions. Just to make sure you don’t have any more problems. Just because you can orgasm by yourself again doesn’t mean it’ll just come naturally with other people.” 

“Are you going to help me with that, too?” you say before you lose the nerve. 

She just winks at you and your clit aches all the way to the receptionist’s desk. 

You book another session. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 25

masterpost

Despite the chill in the air, it was a lovely day to be outside. The sun was warm, the ground had dried out after a few days of rain, and the trees were in full color. Danny threw the ball again for Ursa, using the odd launching stick that Dick had gotten for them. It was appreciated, really. Ursa could run and Danny couldn’t throw the ball nearly as far as she wanted by hand.

Ursa raced back with the ball, just a cloud of black fur, and darted right past Danny. Danny spun around quickly, not wanting Ursa to jump on Alfred again (they were working on it), and almost swallowed his tongue.

“Ursa! Gentle, girl! Be gentle!” Danny called out as he took off after her.

Luckily, Ursa listened and planted her fluffy butt on the ground even if she was still wiggling around excitedly.

“Hi there, Ursa, it’s nice to meet you,” Babs said with a soft smile as she held out her hand to be sniffed.

Ursa dropped the ball in the offered hand with a quiet woof and a large grin. Luckily Babs didn’t seem to mind the sudden, slobbery present and threw the ball like Ursa wanted. Ursa was off after it like a bolt.

“Sorry about her,” Danny said as he scratched at the back of her neck. “Play time means fetch right now. She’s pretty determined about these things.”

“That’s okay,” Babs said as she wiped off her hand on her jeans. “She seems like a real sweat dog.”

“She is. It’s been really good to have her.” Danny didn’t even try to hide how found he sounded. He kept his eyes on Ursa, not able to look at Babs as he asked. “Did you… did you find anything?”

“I did.” Babs’ voice was gentle. “Do you want to know now?”

“I— yes, but no? I think this will… I guess… I don’t want to hear this alone, but I think that means I’ll need to explain everything.”

Ursa dropped her ball and came over to Danny where she pressed herself firmly against his leg. Danny buried a hand in her soft fur.

“They’ll all wait however long you need them to,” Babs said.

“I know. But I think… I think I do need to tell them, if I want to get better, and I want to get better.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure the family is on the way for dinner tonight and we can talk once they get here,” Babs said with that carefully gentle sort of voice that Danny always hated a little. Jazz used to do that too. “In the mean time, I’d love to get to know Ursa more.”

Danny cleared his throat. “So, I guess it’s obvious that she really likes fetch…”

-

Dick helped Babs settle onto the sofa. She didn’t need the help, not really, but the easy back and forth of movement was just natural for them, even after all of these years. It also gave him someone to fuss over that wasn’t Danny. What he wanted to do was scoop Danny up into a hug and never let him go. Dick figured that would be a bit too stifling though. Instead, Dick made sure that Babs had her laptop while the rest of the room got settled.

Danny chose the floor, apparently. He leaned back against Jason’s legs while Tim was pressed on the other side with Steph crammed next to him. Damian was on the floor next to Danny. The two were oddly hard to separate. Ursa had draped herself across both their laps; Danny dug his fingers into her mane. He didn’t look up at the rest of the room, even as Cass sat on the arm of the couch.

They hadn’t been told much about why they were there, a fact that ate at Bruce, but he worked to let that go. Danny had asked them to be there and to the one, they had shown up. Alfred was passing around hot chocolate with Duke’s help. The inclination that the comforting drink would be needed was probably right, as much as Dick hated that. He took his own mug and clung to it like a lifeline.

“The other night,” Babs started, “Danny asked me to look into someone for him, a Jasmine Fenton.”

On the television, a picture of redheaded girl appeared. The person who’s hair Babs had reminded Danny of, Dick realized. It looked like a school photo: mediocre studio lighting, bland background, a forced smile. She was late teens with a scatter of freckles and bright blue eyes.

“Jasmine Fenton, age nineteen, is currently enrolled at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville, where her permanent residence is.”

“Arkansas?” Danny asked quietly.

Babs nodded. “She’s been in the state since she entered the custody of Alica Bayard, Jasmine’s aunt from her mother’s side, almost two years ago.”

Danny sagged forward, burring his face into Ursa’s mane. “Oh thank god.”

“Why did her aunt receive custody?” Bruce asked when none of the rest of them seemed able to.

The steadying breath that Babs had to take wasn’t reassuring. “Jasmine was removed from her parent’s custody after the living conditions were found unsafe. This was part of an investigation into the disappearance of her brother, Daniel Fenton.”

A familiar face joined Jasmine’s on the screen. It was the same, awkward sort of school photo and Danny looked even more uncomfortable in it. His hair was shorter, his eyes bluer, and there were none of the scars. This was Danny before everything went wrong.

“The parents, doctors Jackson and Madison Fenton, were never charged with anything relating to the disappearance. They moved away from Amity Park four months later, likely due to increasing hostility from the town.”

“They weren’t dumb enough to keep me in the house,” Danny said. His words were somehow loud in the room despite being muffled by Ursa’s fur. He gave a mirthless chuckle. “You know, I used to think they were … not dumb, but clueless, you know? That they were science smart and low in everything else. The hapless, accidentally mad scientists. And then… and then I find out how much they had planned. That all of me was planned… I don’t know if anything about them was real.”

Damian leaned over to press against Danny’s side, offering his silent support. Dick was proud of how good a brother Damian was to Danny. It was a small silver lining in all of this. Danny slumped against him.

Danny’s eyes flicked back up to the screen and his sister’s face. He glanced away a long moment later. “Is there… are there any picture of the lab from the report that you can put up?”

Of course Babs had the photos and soon they were cycling through on the screen.

Mad scientists was right. The place looked distinctly science fiction, full of every day objects and tools that should be recognizable but where three steps away from reality. Everything was gleaming metal accented with a toxic green.

“My… they… the Fentons are ecto-biologists,” Danny explained as the rest of the room cataloged the details in the pictures.

“Ghost biologists?” Tim asked with furrowed brows.

“Yeah. Not that they ever met the ethics that biologists go by. But they didn’t think ghosts were sentient let alone sapient, so I don’t know why they even called themselves that. They didn’t… the screams means it’s working,” Danny said, choking on something between a laugh and a sob.

Jason cursed, the words a low rumble of anger that echoed through the rest of the room.

Dick had to get up and pace.

He brushed his fingers lightly over his family as he moved through the room, assuring himself they were all there and alright. Bruce caught his fingers and squeezed. Dick huffed, but settled lightly on the arm of Bruce’s chair.

“There’s a lot I didn’t really think about as a kid,” Danny said, once the room had settled again. “I should have. But they were—I thought they were my parents. I thought they knew best. When I started to really pay attention… we didn’t see eye to eye pretty quickly, but I thought they were just misguided, you know? I thought that maybe, eventually, I could talk to them about all the things that I’d learned and show them that they were wrong. But I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what, sweetheart?” Bruce asked.

“That I was never their son. I was just a lab rat.”

“Danny,” Cass called softly.

Danny shook his head. “It’s true! They even said it: ‘you can love the test monkey, Danny, but you can’t let that get in the way of the experiment’. Apparently I was an easy monkey to care for. Not too demanding. Easy enough for them to just add to the effort they already put towards Jazz, their real kid. Easy enough to ignore when they wanted. For me it was all just… normal. Just how I grew up.”

Tim bumped Danny with his leg. “Don’t worry, Steph and I will teach you how to annoy everyone in this family so that they can’t ignore you.”

The little snort of laughter Danny made seemed to surprise even him.

“Not that we would want to ignore you anyways, Dandelion,” Jason said. “We’re not perfect, but we’re family. Real family.”

Danny leaned back against Jason’s legs, a faint smile on his lips. Dick felt something in himself unwind at the sight. Jason was right, they were far from perfect, but they were family and they would be there for Danny always. It would talk time, a lot of time, but Danny would be alright. And all along healing he’d be loved.

Bab’s caught Dick’s eye. She clearly had more to tell, but Dick shook his head slightly. Give everyone a moment. Let everyone process and drink their hot chocolate and eat some of the cookies that Alfred brought with his impeccable timing. When everything was calmer and the cookies almost gone, Dick got up and returned to his seat by Babs. He touched her wrist gently. It was as good as time as any.

“So I’ve figured out when the Fentons visited Gotham,” Babs said. An old, poor quality image of a convention banner popped up on the television. It was for alternative energies. Next to it was a list of booths, the Fenton’s ‘Ectoplasm Energy’ booth highlighted. “But what I don’t understand is why they chose to clone Bruce. They never tried to use it as a claim for child support or any of the obvious reasons someone would clone a Wayne for.”

“I, um, never knew the when,” Danny said, squinting at the images. “I didn’t… I didn’t even find out the who until I was escaping. It was stupid to stop and look, they could have come back at any moment, but I had to know, you know? But I know the why. Bruce registers as a liminal. I would bet all of you do except for Steph and maybe Alfred. Well, Jason is more like me and Dami is something other, something more. Duke’s totally different.”

Bruce leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Liminal.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. It can—like, it’s not the best term, really, because it can mean a lot. A lot of exposure to death, exposure to death at key moments, being somewhere liminal for a really long time, or longterm exposure to ectoplasm can cause it.”

“Is it dangerous?” Tim asked, mouth twisted in a curious frown.

“No,” Danny said quickly. “Think of it sorta like a meta gene? Some people are more susceptible to being liminal and liminals, if exposed to the right… incentives, can develop… not powers but kinda? Or, if things go really wrong, can turn into a halfa.

“My—the Fentons are really immune to being liminal, they learned that in college when their lab partner got really sick and then later turned into a halfa. I dodn’t know if… I don’t know if they would have tried to use Jazz like that did me if not. I don’t think so but… well, they didn’t have to worry about her when they exposed me to all sorts of stuff around the house growing up.”

“They chose to clone me simply because I was a liminal?” Bruce asked. He sounded befuddled.

To be fair, it was like the weirdest reason ever to clone Bruce Wayne and Batman.

“Yeah. A strong one,” Danny said. “Gotham itself is pretty liminal and you’re, you know, both her knight and her prince. I think you were sort of like the perfect choice for them to pick. I guess you went to the convention. They had you handle a device, it nicked you enough for them to get blood. They, um, would have played it off. Like they bragged, everyone always just thought D…Jack was just a bumbling fool. It let him get away with a lot.”

“They snagged Bruce’s blood and cloned you to just, what, have their own liminal?” Steph asked. Her nose scrunched up at the whole idea of it.

“Yeah. Apparently they tracking how much I was exposed to and what my levels where. I didn’t… I never noticed. It was just growing up. My, they always did my check ups. Experiments were left everywhere. I cleaned the lab. Sometimes hot dogs came back to life and attacked.”

“What?!” Duke squawked.

“One more reason to be vegetarian,” Damian tsked.

Danny just shrugged. “It was just life. But, um, I didn’t really get any powers or anything so they pushed things. They set it up for me to die and be exposed to a huge amount of ectoplasm at the same time.”

Dick stilled. “It was planned?”

“What?”

“You said they killed you, but it… that was planned. Killing you was planned?”

“Oh, yeah,” Danny said softly. “Like, I thought it was an accident, just being a stupid teen and not being safe enough around big science experiments. My friend just wanted a picture of me in the portal. It turned on and—”

Danny trailed off, fingers tight in Ursa’s fur.

“And halfa.” Cass said.

“And halfa,” Danny agreed. “Which I guess was the best outcome. I could have just died and been a ghost. It was proof that someone liminal enough could be dead and not at the same time. My, um, my friend Sam said I was responsible to fight the ghosts that the portal accident let out. It was just another way to test my powers and see how they grew. Not that, it wasn’t Sam testing me, but the Fentons would let ghosts ‘escape’ and I would fight them and get new skills.”

“You were a hero, Master Danny?” Alfred asked with a purposeful look to Bruce.

Bruce had the good graces to look a little chagrined. “It just seems part of the make up at this point?”

Danny smiled a little. “I guess. I went by Phantom. The city didn’t always like me, the ghosts could cause a lot of damage, but nothing ever got too bad. I really thought I was doing something important.”

“You were,” Tim insisted. “Even if the Fentons were the real villain behind it all, you still dealt with the threats that you knew about.”

“…I guess?” Danny agreed doubtfully. “I don’t know if it matters when they just were waiting for my powers to stagnate. Apparently they had pressure from the group that was funding them, the GWI, for results so they moved up their time line. I went to sleep and woke up in a box in a GIW lab. Then I was just a lab rat. I was just something to experiment on and cut into and—and—”

Dick moved to the floor and Danny’s side, pulling his newest little brother into a tight hug. “Don’t. You don’t have to think about that anymore.”

They had seen the scars.

They knew the sort of things that Danny had been through.

That those monsters had done.

Danny didn’t need to relive any of it just to try and explain things to them. Part of Dick wanted to protect his other siblings from having to be exposed to those horrors too, even with everything else they had been through. Danny sniffled wetly and buried his face into Dick’s shoulder. Hitched sobs wracked his body. Ursa huffed and tried to lick Danny’s chin. Damian leaned closer.

Dick looked up at Jason who was already watching Dick with a question in his gaze. Jason didn’t listen to anyone, not really, but this was a family mater and Dick was the oldest child. It was his call. Dick didn’t even hesitate to nod.

Jason looked viciously pleased.

Jason and Tim could handle the Fentons. The Titans would see to the GWI. The Justice League could deal with any fallout. The family would protect their own.

Dick pulled Danny closer as he let him cry.

---

AN: *lies down dead like Danny* this chapter was exhausting to write. I hope you all like it and it feels full.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Will You Marry Me?"

How I imagine LADS Men would propose. This is part 1 of 2. I tried to do the sweet elegant writing, but that ain't me so here you go....

Zayne

Zayne definitely shows his love through his actions.

He's the type to be nervous the weeks leading up to his proposal. He won't show it though his coping mechanism would just be to work more hours to avoid thinking about all the reasons you'd say no. So you'd barely see him for weeks.

Don't worry though trust he's planned everything down to the last minute. He even tried to plan how the conversation would go. He quickly scraps that idea when he remembers he can never predict your response considering the way you always surprise him with your antics.

He's private about your relationship (Private not a secret read that again twice). He wouldn't want a crowd or prying eyes he'd want a cozy afternoon at home with you. The PERFECT cozy afternoon. He'd have you sit down on the couch as he'd bend a knee and give you the most Shakespearian speech you've every heard in your life before ending it with a......

Zayne: I know I've told you before nothing last forever but I'd like to be your nothing and last forever .... Will you marry me? MC: You're my everything Zayne Zayne: Is that a yes? MC: Yes yes of course

How could you even think of saying no? He would also turn you every which way but loose to celebrate. The aftercare would consist of a hot jasmine scented bath with you to relax your muscles. That nap would hit different after that cozy afternoon. ;)

Rafayel

Rafayel is so silly he'd stumble and drop the ring down a drain or something. I bet you thought thats what I'd say huh? Wrong number babes.

He can be serious when he wants to and he'd want his proposal to be perfect as well however he would want to have fun prior to asking just to calm his nerves. He'd take you to a festival or a farmers market or the arcade anything to take his mind off his racing heartbeat for his plans later.

When the time comes he would take you to a quiet gorgeous beach at sunset (A place where he feels the most calm) and right when nightfalls. Fireworks. Perfect timing huh? Coincidence? I think not!

He always finds you beautiful no matter what. He could stare at you for hours and never get tired of looking at you. There was something about you in the moonlight mixed with the awe on your face while watching the fireworks. You were unreal.

He'd wait until you're completely enamored by the fireworks before subtly mentioning something further down the beach. You'd turn quickly seeing beautiful candle light set up complete with a heart shaped flower archway covered in Flame Lillies. It was ethereal.

MC: Oh my gosh someones getting proposed to Rafayel: Lets get a closer look MC: No we might ruin it let's stay here Rafayel: It'll be fine I know the person proposing they haven't got there yet we can go look MC: Fine but quickly

Rafayel would lead you over directly in front of the archway where you would pull at his sleeve to try and leave. Because why does this man got you in the middle of someone else’s proposal set up??

MC: Your friend could be here any minute we should leave Rafayel: He's here MC: *Looks around frantically* Where?!? Rafayel: It's me MC: *Turns to see Rafayel on one knee*

His speech is an absolute tear jerker. He'd promise to love you endlessly and passionately. "I promise to chase you to the ends of the earth even in death I'd find you in the next life"

Rafayel: So ... will you be my beloved bride? MC: YES!

Me personally I'm tackling his fine ass in the sand after he slips that ring on

Xavier & Sylus here...

[luveline]

hot bombshell bau!reader flirting and winking at spencer every chance she gets and poor spencer just gets hot and bothered very flustered and blushing😋😋

i love you jade i read ur blog like it's the daily newspaper<33

I love you anon, thank you for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"So," says a voice, low and syrupy as warmth spreads up Spencer's side, "how's my favourite agent?" 

Your perfume a subtle fragrance of jasmine and vanilla alike, sweetness that lingers —and Spencer knows, having thought of you every time he walks past the sugar ring donut stand by the Staples Mill Station for weeks— you put a hand on his shoulder and lean in for a one-armed hug. His skin erupts with goosebumps. 

"Y/N," he says, sounding much too much like a wimp for his own liking. He clears his throat. "When did you get back?" 

He's afraid to look at you. He doesn't have a choice. His heart skips a beat at the state of you, which is to say you look stunning in your dark clothes, a tight cut top that borders unprofessional and a pair of thigh hugging pants that pass the border completely. (He's kidding. Mostly. You're dressed fine. He's a loser, is all.) 

"This morning. They couldn't keep me from you if they tried, handsome. You look good." You disengage from his side. Spencer's relieved and regretful at once. "I love the haircut, they take a little more than you were expecting?" 

"Is it too short?" he asks unsurely. 

"It's perfect."

Spencer's taller than you but he never feels it until you're looking up at him, pretty eyes and quirked lips, permanent amusement in your gaze. "I missed you," you say.

"Y/N," Hotch says as he descends the steps to the bullpen. "We talked about this." 

"Pen and Morgan do it every day." Your eyebrows pinch together. 

Hotch doesn't say anything else, an empty coffee mug in hand as he passes. You don't baulk at his disapproving look, the opposite, sitting on the edge of Morgan's desk to kick your kitten heels gently, a slow back and forth that has Spencer's eyeline pulling down your legs. He shakes it off, but not before you've noticed. 

"You don't mind, do you, babe?" you ask. "My flirting?" 

It'll probably kill him sooner rather than later. "No. Don't mind." 

"'Cus I can stop, I promise. But you're the kind of boy that should be flirted with, you know? And the kind of smart that makes you crazy attractive, which is unfair. It's not like you needed help in that particular department." You lean back as you talk, scrounging around Morgan's things.

"Second shelf," Spencer says. 

You stop your searching to grin at him. Pleased, you reach down to the second drawer of Morgan's desk and find what you'd been looking for, a coveted, half-eaten pack of cherry twizzlers. 

"But we're not like Pen and Morgan," you say, bringing a twizzler to your mouth. 

"We're not?" Spencer asks, confused. He may not summon the necessary charisma to flirt back, but he likes what you have. 

"Nope." You take another bite, chew, leaving Spencer in anticipation. Finally, you swallow, lips curving into an even stickier smile. "'Cus Pen and Morgan are never gonna happen. They're better as friends…" 

You slip down off of Morgan's desk, leaving his twizzlers behind. Spencer has enough sense about him to anticipate your approach. He's proud of himself for the composure he maintains as your footsteps slow. He even takes a step back to follow you, to your abject delight. 

"But we're not just friends, are we?" you ask softly. You lift your chin. He can smell the cherry on you. 

"Y/N, enough," Hotch says from somewhere behind. You refuse to look away, and while Spencer fears his chief's tone, he manages to hold your gaze. "HR will mandate another presentation." 

"It's alright, Hotch," Spencer says. His cheeks are flushed and his palms are clammy, but his voice holds up. "I don't mind." 

"I'm sure you don't." 

"This could all be avoided if we took this somewhere a little more private," you murmur. 

"Enough. I won't tell you again, Y/N. Shouldn't you be helping Penelope with her ViCAP recalibration?" Hotch asks pointedly. 

Spencer takes it for what it is; an effort to separate you from each other before it goes too far. You know it too, rolling your eyes at Spencer like you've a shared secret —Can you believe this guy?— clasping his arm loosely in farewell.

"See you later, Spence." You call him handsome, babe, bub, even sweetheart, but Spence is the worst of all of them because of how you say it, your voice entrenched in pure honey. His heart pangs as you go.  

Hotch lingers by Spencer's side, coffee freshly filled and steaming in rings. "You know, you're getting better," he says sympathetically. 

Spencer rubs the bridge of his nose roughly. "Thanks." 

[nor-4]

Soooo Anxious

Oscar Diaz x Reader

It's been a really hot day the degree keeps increasing definitely because of climate change, those damn uncaring did this if only they cared more about the earth.

Good thing you are nice enough to make a Popsicles and snacks for everyone outside since they nag oscar to hang out and fix Oscar's car.

"God why is it so hot outside, I think I'm about to evaporate." Jamal squealed as he roughly swing the fan around, "Boy if you don't shut your mouth I wi-" Oscar was cutted off when you slam the door with you foot as you carry a tray of foods with both of your hands.

"Oh cesar you didn't told me you will be having your friends over." You said luckily you have more popsicles inside as you didn't include Jamal and the others on the list, "I didn't even know, they just passed by." Cesar stated receiving a smack from monse.

"Who's that?? She's so hot.." Jamal whispered as he scooted over to cesar as he eye you up and down, "I know right." Ruby popped out out of nowhere they arrived with him here but they just forgot him.

"If I were you I will not even say that." Cesar said as he catch a glimpse of his brother giving a side eye on Jamal and Ruby. He for sure knew what they said.

"Monse, Jasmine, dear I'm so happy you guys are here." you happily squealed as you walk near cesar to do a beso with monse and jasmine. Monse is like a little sister for you, you are the first person she run to everytime she has this girl problems, same goes jasmine. You are just old to be their sister, a sister that will have a girls night with them.

As for jamal and ruby they were quietly waiting for you to approach them and also do a beso on them but instead you just shook their hands, even though they are still grateful.

"Good thing i made more popsicles, wait.." As you started walking again inside as the two horny boys watch you walk with agape mouth, looking at your clothing which really fit your body. It will for sure make every man's hungry eyes full.

"Oy cesar, what this little friends of your staring for." Oscar said standing up from sitting on the small chair he own to use everytime he fix his wheels. "What who's staring, hey monse stop staring it's bad." jamal said nervously slapping over monse's arms earning a slap back from her.

"Been telling them that." cesar just shrugged walking to get a popsicle since heat have been bothering him since this morning, "You little putas better stop eye fucking my girl before i pull them out." oscar threatened as he started washing his hands so he can eat.

"Stop acting like a bitch in heat now oscar." You scolded as you handed out the popsicles on everyone, "Come on ma I'm just saying." oscar sighed in defeat.

Cesar still can't believe on how you can scold over oscar, he knows scolding on him is not a thing he would even tolerate. But look at you, you just make everything so peaceful by shutting oscar up.

"Here baby sit infront of the fan, it's been really smoking hot lately." Oscar offered quickly as he plugged the electric fan that jamal didn't even know it's there until oscar plugged it, "Thank you darling." You thanked as you touch his bicep after sitting on the chair.

"God she sound so hot, i wish she would call me that." ruby murmured as they sat comfortably infront of them watching oscar reach for a chair from God knows where and sat beside you.

"I swear this kids better stop looking at your boobs" oscar murmured as he stared back at jamal and ruby who was to focused on you, to shut oscar up from saying something about violent stuff you started feeding him with fries you made because you were craving.

"You made this? It's really good." jasmine asked as she almost choked from swallowing it all the way without even chewing it, good thing monse has a heavy hands to slap Jasmine's back.

"Yes i did, thank you.." You said it made you a bit shy but you love it when someone praises your cooking skills, "Do you want a drink monse? I heard the temperature will get higher later, you need to be hydrated." Cesar asked as he placed a hand on monse's shoulder.

"Yes please." Monse said as cesar quickly stood up to get a drink on the kitchen, "Get my queen some too" oscar commanded as you smack his face.

"You're being too cringe you know."

"Come on, i cannot care for my girl now?"

"Do you want me to tie your hair up?" Oscar asked again but this time more sincere than his sarcadm earlier, "Yes please baby, thank you." You said as your back faced oscar to tie your hair up.

It took a long time for oscar to learn on how to tie your hair so everytime it's getting hot you wouldn't even need to do an effort to tie your hair, plus oscar always carry two of your hair ties on his wrist just in case you forgot one.

After tying your hair up he kissed you shoulder like a light weight of feather which made both of you giggled like a high school teenagers as you face him, oscar used to be a not so affectionate significant others. But by the time being on a relationship with you he learned that it's very important to do, it's his favorite language of love.

He loves to touch you feel you in his hands, to hug you on a cold night, to hold you when you feel sad, to hold you and make you know that nothing can really change his love for you.

Another thing is he used his confidence to compliment you every second, to assure you, to tell you how much he loves you how much you meant to him.

"God I've never been more jealous in my life.." ruby murmured as he sadly munch on his burger.

[demonic0angel]

okay now i really want to read the mafia boss/rival company anger management fic that we keep talking about XD (from the gods creator AU)

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO MARRY HER?!" Jason shrieked.

Dick and Tim winced from the noise level but Bruce didn't even flinch.

"You are going to marry Jasmine Fenton," Bruce repeated as if he hadn't even started screaming at all. "Truthfully, it was supposed to be Dick, but since you took over the company, you're going to marry her."

Jason practically snarled, glaring at Dick with vicious eyes.

Dick coughed. "Little Wing, what's the big deal? I know you two have a rivalry, but didn't you admire her? I thought you liked her!"

Jason spluttered before he said, "Like her?! I don't— I don't like her! She's prissy and naggy and talks too much and all she does is use her pretty face to get whatever she wants! Like hell I'm going to marry her!"

His face turned hot as he continued, "And it's not like I like her! I don't! A-And I'm pretty sure we won't be a good match anyways!"

Tim, Dick, and Bruce shared a look before Tim said, "We should call the Fentons to discuss wedding plans and asset sharing."

"Agreed. I'm thinking we should get a 20% amount of shares in the company—"

"Are you listening to me?!"

————

"..... so I have to marry him?"

Danny and Dan glowered, while Dani nodded and shrugged at the same time. "It appears so. Apparently, mom and dad arranged it before they died but we only just saw it."

Jazz frowned.

Dani asked, "What is it? You don't like him or something?"

Immediately, Dan stood up and said, "I'll take care of it."

Jazz grabbed him before he could run off and start hiring hitmen to kill Jason Todd-Wayne. "No, no, that's not it. Let's not be hasty here."

"Then what is it? If you don't like the marriage, I'm sure we could do something about it," Danny said.

Dani muttered, "Though we could get really, really rich really, really fast if we married into the Waynes. Not that it matters much if you don't like him."

Jazz sighed before she said, "It's just so unromantic! Where's the dates? The love? The romance? He's cute, but I don't think he likes me very much anyways."

"Then we should kill him," Dan said with a nod to Danny.

"No killing," Dani and Jazz said, which made both Dan and Danny wilt.

Dani then said, "How about a trial period? You've been alone and single for too long, sis. This could be fun!"

Jazz sighed and smiled. "Well... I wouldn't mind much."

"Woohoo! Okay, I'll send them a message right away!"

"I knew I should've killed him the moment he took over the company," Dan bemoaned.

[andraxicated]

No Hard Feelings

Pairing: zayne x f! reader

tags: nsfw | mutual pining? | virgins in love | 69 | protected p in v | big dick zayne (cause he was my man before sylus and we love virgins who hide big packages) | small angst |

a/n: sitting pretty on my drafts since february. i love writing in this format it just lets your ideas flow | zayne is a harvard med alumni free from student debt cause he's rich and we all know it

inspired by one of my fav rom coms no hard feelings i swear its so funny

you are nothing but a broke college student looking for ways to make extra money. so what can you do when your friend shows you a totally suspicious ad?

"we are looking for a girl with experience to seduce our son and help him have a social life. preferably pretty. will be handsomely compensated"

you grab the opportunity after much thought and show up in the sluttiest dress to make sure you fit the 'girl with experience' part despite your v-card being intact.

and you never thought that you'd be sitting in a mansion's living room, listening to a rich mother yap about her worries for her beloved and only son's social life

"you see... it's because i'm deeply worried about our son! we are very proud he's doing well before going to medical school but it's summer and all his peers are going out on vacations, dating, and partying, but he doesn't seem to be interested in any of those since his time at university!"

let's say when you asked what he looked like and turned around to see a picture frame, you were instantly sold onto this 'fuck their son' plan

his parents said their beloved Zayne volunteers at the public park to tend to the flowers. he works under the hot son with his stoic face and meaty arms to which you space out a little.

imagine his surprise when his view got shadowed by your figure, looking up to see the expanse of your thighs, your boobs supported by a push-up bra. this was your best attempt at looking like a vixen

"heyyyy, can I touch your buds?" you giggle (cringing inwardly) and the rest is history.

Zayne didn't know what to fucking say but glare at you.

it was hard to get close to Zayne because that man was a brick wall. he was so reserved and quiet, always so serious despite your attempts at fun time. yet with every time you spent together, his walls break down bit by bit.

and when you saw a crack in his walls, you unknowingly tore it down along with yours.

because you are unexpectedly falling in love with him.

"I thought this was movie night" Both of you remove your tops amidst giggles and short kisses.

"Mhmm, you smell like Jasmines." Zayne pretends not to hear you as he rasps against your ear, kissing your neck as his fingers drag down to tug at your shorts and panty. You whine when he successfully removes it, cold air hitting your inner thighs as he shushes you through small, wet kisses.

"That perfume was on sale, I knew I had to buy it for you" You smile and Zayne mirrors it on his lips, making your heart skip out of your chest. He caresses your hips softly, dangerously inching closer to your core where you're positively throbbing.

"You know me so well. It's as if you were sent by someone for me."

You chuckle awkwardly, letting him trail down light kisses on your neck, all the way to your collarbones. His statement slaps you back to reality. That you were just a girl taking advantage of him and his parents' money. But with each kiss that matches with the beat of your heart, you feel that this acting of yours turned a little too real. You just wanted him between your thighs, lost in your body, drunk on your kisses, and never have him find out the truth.

Zayne looks up at you from an angle, wanting to ask for permission to dive in your pussy, but then he sees you spacing out, and it’s not the cockdrunk look he sees on porn videos. You looked sad and miserable while staring into nothing, he fears he might have bored you to death and he’s too much of a virgin to satisfy you. Zayne looked scared to snap you out of it, he lightly nudged your thigh, and your gaze finally shifted to him. You still haven’t gotten rid of that look yet. 

“Sorry, let’s not do this today if you aren’t feeling well” zayne speaks softly while sitting up, the care evident in his eyes, and you wanted nothing more than to jump in his arms. 

You shook your head, a smile on your face. “I’m sorry I killed the mood. Are you still hard?” 

“What?”

“I mean, is your dick hard?”

Zayne looks down for a moment and replies, “Yeah…I’m hard”

You giggle and reach over to give him a peck. “Let me suck you off. You’ll feel good, I promise” You say as if you sucked dick before. You were quite nervous to put something in your mouth for the first time, fearing for your throat and untrained gag reflex. Also, Zayne looks pretty big from the way he’s tenting from his shorts, it wasn’t going to be easy.

Your heart was beating from your chest as Zayne sat with his legs on both sides of your body, presenting you with his aching bulge. You tug down his shorts along with his underwear and you see his big cock that he’s been hiding all along. Zayne flushes red on his ears and neck as you stare at his size in awe. The tip was angry and leaking, twitching occasionally as the man before you winced. Its girth was impressively thicker than your wrist and length longer than what you’ve seen in videos, this guy was above average. But before you could try to touch him, Zayne coughs up to get your attention. 

You question him in your eyes and he blushes, struggling to get his words out. 

“I-I want to make you feel good too. Can we try that position?” 

“What position?” 

“...69” 

Zayne bites his lip, looking at your face for any sort of disgust but none came. A smile broke out on your face before you nodded, taking the initiative to adjust your positions accordingly. Zayne was taller than you so you had to be the one on top, your body tensing as you face his leaking cock staring at you. You wanted to put your mouth on it so bad but you knew you had to wait for Zayne to adjust at your bottom. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Zayne huffs out and you involuntarily clench, feeling his hot breath around your hole. You can’t help the heat that travels to your cheeks as you recognize yourself putting your ass up in the air for a man to gape at your hole. You could feel every bone in your body praying not to fuck this up.

“I’ll start,” You say, biting your lip and squinting your eyes before hurriedly starting the job. Your lips come into contact with the tip and Zayne moans, throwing his head back as you try to engulf him in your mouth. He feels you testing how your mouth glides up and down thanks to your saliva as lubricant. Zayne thinks he could burst right then and there in your mouth but he tries to at least save himself some dignity by not finishing through a 20-second blowjob. 

He leans forward and settles his palms on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh experimentally, making you moan at his touches. His lips press outside your pussy, shying away from the main course before steeling himself with the courage of a man. 

Choked moans left your mouth as Zayne suddenly parts your ass for a clear view and dives right in to fuck your hole with his tongue. He laps up like a man starved with eyes closed, executing toe-curling techniques that you didn’t know he could do. 

“Nghh! Mmhphh!” You’re drooling on his dick, taking what you can of his size and pumping what you couldn’t reach. He’s too much of a big fit in your mouth, struggling to hollow your cheeks since most of your wet cavern is occupied by his cock. You could only bob your head up and down, moaning to get him feeling some vibrations, and rubbing your pussy along his lips. 

On the other end, Zayne was having a very much-awaited make-out session with your cunt. He sloppily kisses your hole, circling his tongue as he tastes the softness of the flesh. His hands rubbing your ass in gentle motions causes you to clench and he groans, chasing the movement of your cunt. He does it like the boys do in those videos, he closes his eyes and imagines he’s doing a good job just like them, making their girl scream like it's the end of the world. 

“So pretty” he pulls away mesmerized by your glistening cunt. Zayne couldn’t help but be addicted to your pussy, and he gives it more attention by sucking and playing around with his tongue. To hear your muffled cries sends vibrations down his spine, making him even more hard as your eyes widen. 

You gasp for air as you fix your breathing. You wanted to complain about why he was getting bigger but you just couldn’t stop yourself from sinking deeper onto his cock. You’re positive you looked like a cockhungry slut with dick in her mouth, wiggling her ass as her man eats her out because that’s exactly what you’re doing, you could picture how dirty the position was and it makes you throb, edging you to your release.

No one was saying anything, too occupied with the job at hand as wet noises filled the room. Both of you were pushing each other at the brink of release. Zayne lightly thrusts to chase the feeling of a wet heat—challenging your gag reflex, not knowing it's your first time giving a blowjob. He suddenly hits the back of your throat as cum floods inside your mouth. You’re breathing through your nose, too full of erotic sensations, and you cum following his release. Wet spurts land on Zayne’s face as he drinks up your release, relishing in his first time making a girl cum. 

You pull away from his dick, white semen landing on the bed from your mouth and Zayne’s eyes widen seeing you keeping his release inside your mouth. He thinks you probably didn’t want to swallow it so he grabs tissues, and places them below your chin. 

“Spit it out” 

You look at the tissue on his hand and swallow the cum, wincing as the taste hits you. You just wanted to do it like others do, swallowing because you worked hard for it. Zayne was flabbergasted to even move, his flaccid member unapologetically rising hard when he saw you swallow his seed. 

It made him want to put it inside you. 

“Why did you swallow?” 

You wipe the excess off your face, “I just wanted to try” You hoped he didn’t catch on that it was your first time. Both of you were tired but you wanted to keep going, driven by lust. Zayne was trying to hide his erection and you decided to just get on with it, you wanted him inside right now.

“Zayne, do you want to be on top?” Your question left him surprised. He blinks for a few seconds before nodding and positioning on top of you as you lay down. Then it hits you.

“Wait, do you have a condom?” 

He visibly freezes before reaching over to the bedside table, pulling out the drawer, grabbing a condom, and opening the package. While he puts it on, your eyes drift to the package and you notice the XL size and the ‘super ultra-thin’ inscription. You couldn’t help but be a little nervous after reading that. 

“It’s on,” he says awkwardly, the tip of his ears reddening by the minute. At this moment, the air was thick with nervousness radiating from you and Zayne. You exchange eye contact with him as his palm rests on your hip, drawing circles to coax you and relax your walls. 

“I’m ready, are you?” 

“Yeah,” he kisses your lip to distract you from the pain of your cunt breached open by his thick cockhead. You wince in discomfort, legs shaking as the thickness stops moving. Zayne panics over your pained expression, whispering sweet nothings that it will pass soon because fuck, you are incredibly tight and wet. He almost moans at the sight of your hole struggling to take all of him. 

You look down and let your head fall back onto his soft pillow. “Move”, you let out breathlessly. 

“I’m too big for you, you need to adjust”

“Zayne, just move! Let me adjust when you’re inside me” You whine, wanting to have him inside you as soon as possible. Zayne complies and pushes in slowly, all his worries about med school and sex are completely gone when he buries himself to the hilt. You moan in unison, the stretch being painfully good for your first time.

It was the kind of pain that you’d willingly take because the pleasure was too much to lose out on. He stretches you out nicely, feeling every vein inside you, especially the tip that kisses your g spot. How did he find it in one go?

“You're so tight!—Shit” Zayne picks up on his space, letting his dick rub inside you before starting to thrust full-on. His hips smoothly roll as he pistons his cock in and out of your hole. Your wetness and the condom's lubricant make him move easily inside.

“Ohhh! Zayne!” You jolt towards the headboard as his grunts fill the room, his cockhead repeatedly locking in on your sweet spot, making you clench in response. His hair falls over his face, masquerading on his eyes as his hips put in the work for your pussy. He looks so pretty like that, flushed red, breathless, as he stuffs you repeatedly with his cock.

“Ahhhh, so big~” You could only moan and clench around his member, the movements making your boobs jiggle, and Zayne couldn't help but grope one of them—giving attention to the other by going down on his mouth. You just looked so pretty under him, so messy and good at taking his cock.

“My pretty girl” he huffs while bucking his hips into you.

Then he remembers that you probably had sex before him, and you have experienced other guys. And something deep within him tears its ugly head. Zayne suddenly had a primal urge to claim you, to make sure from now on, you're showing this lewd face to him and only him. 

He was jealous and it wasn't a good feeling.

He pounds his cock faster, pouring all the anger he has into vigor. You scratch his back as Zayne goes feral at a fast pace fucking his cock back into your hole. You thrash in his arms from the pleasure, wanting to run away because the dick was too good. But his strong arms cage you in place as he ruts like an animal in heat. 

His hand suddenly flicks on your clit, pinching the bud to edge you closer to your orgasm. He wanted to make you finish first, to feel your cum coating his length before he releases. 

Your nerves were set on fire just as you think your brain is fried from too much dick. You wanted nothing but to cum and release the knot forming on your lower abdomen. He pumps exactly at a target in a frenzied state, balls swinging against your skin. Zayne continued to grunt, letting out the manliest sounds you've ever heard.

“Z-zayne I'm Cumming—Hahhh!!!” You scream as your eyes roll to the back of your head, cunt spasming and dripping around his girth, body shivering from how hard it was. You feel like floating on cloud nine as Zayne leans down to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys in his wake. 

“That's a good girl. Now take this.” 

His pace gradually falters and he slides in one last powerful thrust before exploding his cum and flooding the condom. You cried out as he did small jerks of his hips to ride out his high while cumming buckets. You fear some cum may have slipped out but you didn't care to voice it out.

Zayne learned that it wasn't good to make you oversensitive so as soon as he finished, he took out his softening cock and watched your abused cunt close. He thinks It might have been his favorite sight.

The night ends with you receiving aftercare, drinking water, and cleaning up in the bathroom to make yourselves clean for bed. You didn't even know Zayne changed the sheets, which explains why he left the tub faster. 

But as you lay in his bed with his arms wrapped around you, there wasn't any semblance of reprieve because of your anxiousness about the arrangement. 

Sooner or later he would find out and everything would come crashing down. You'd go back to your own life, paying expenses thanks to the money you received while Zayne would also go on and continue to med school, fuck a few girls since he already had a taste with a girl who duped him for money. 

Just thinking about that brings tears to your eyes. No, you don't wanna be separated from Zayne. You wanted whatever you had with him despite having no label. 

You tried to tell him the truth a few times but fear got the better of you and you find yourself backtracking, saying something else, and laughing it off. Every moment was precious with Zayne, you couldn't cut his smiles short—it would break your heart to wipe off the soft love on his face. 

So you did nothing but let time run its course.

Zayne soon expressed his want for you to meet his family. He feels like he's known you for a lifetime despite meeting just that summer. So you took his offer and had lunch with his parents who tried their best to act as if they first saw you that day. The food was delicious yet the whole dining experience was painful. You and his parents lying to his face made you unable to stomach the food very well. So you left the house and went to their garden, gazing at the flowers that you knew Zayne himself planted. 

He was looking around for you, sighing since you didn’t tell him where you ran off. He was about to ask his parents in the dining room when he accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation that made him stop in his tracks. 

“Well that was awkward, can you believe our son actually fell in love with her? I mean, she’s pretty skilled”

He wasn’t supposed to hear that.

“This isn’t what I was expecting when we hired her. I think we need to end this arrangement soon. I’ll give her the money before this situation blows up.”

He couldn’t fucking believe it. 

Skilled? Hired? Money? It didn’t take an intelligent man to connect the dots as the conversation went on. Every word that came out of their mouth froze his heart and shattered it like glass. Anger, hurt, and confusion overwhelmed him for the first time in his life. He found it hard to stabilize his breathing. He couldn’t help but let hatred cover his eyes as he stormed into the dining room.  

“Is what you’re saying true? You hired a girl to seduce me?” he demanded, voice shaking with emotion as his parents looked very much terrified to see him there. He didn’t want to believe it was true, but as the seconds went by it was all becoming clear that this was a big fat farce all along. Zayne didn’t know what hurt but he knew he’d been played by the people he loved. And that was all it took for him to break his promise of never raising his voice at his parents. 

“Is it true?!” he roared and to see his mother flinch hurt him but at that moment, Zayne was the victim. 

“Zayne, darling let me explain—”  

“Why?” 

His mother breathed out. “We thought it would be good for you. We wanted to let you have some fun since I feel like you’re constantly buried in books! You need to take some time to socialize too!”

He could only pinch the bridge of his nose as he steeled his mouth in case he said something he could not go back on.

“This conversation isn’t over yet” he uttered coldly, leaving his parents guiltily mulling over their actions.  

Overcome by the need to confront you, he walks in long strides to the garden. He honestly does not know what he wants to hear from you. Apologies? Explanation? He doesn’t know but his feet take him to you and destroy your peaceful moment. 

He sees your figure basking in rays of afternoon sun, checking on the flowers he planted. He stops and stares before storming and grabbing your wrist to make you face him. You meet his face in shock, body tensing from the dangerous aura he was emitting. His hazel eyes were swirling with hurt and you knew it was that time. Zayne knew how much you were playing him like a fool. 

“Is it true?" he pants “That my parents hired you to seduce me for the summer? So that I could get with a girl and have some fun?” 

Tears flowed from your eyes as you nodded shakily, accepting your fate. He was disgusted by how easily you admitted it. Was it that easy for you?  

“I want to hear it from you. Speak before I kick you out” he spat out with so much venom that it wrecked sobs from you. Zayne hated hearing you cry just as he hated how this was such a cruel game you played. 

“Zayne, it was all real. I swear! My feelings are real. It’s true that I accepted a deal with your parents for money but you have to know that I needed it!” You feel like ripping your hair out just to make him believe you. You were so desperate to not be a villain in his eyes. “And what I feel for you is real! I love you and I’m so sorry that I did this to you.” You sobbed, holding your face in your hands as you wiped the overflowing tears that clouded your vision. 

You took a step forward and he took a step back, reflecting the hurt in your eyes. 

“How do I believe you now? How do I know this is still not an act?” 

“I don’t know…” You shook your head, mind at a loss for words. “I just know that it would kill me to be separated from you.”

Zayne could hear the desperation in your voice and it was constantly stabbing at his heart. He longed to believe and touch you, but the pain of deception stung deep. 

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. “Who are you? Do you have any other name?”

You whip your head in shock, shaking your head frantically. “No! (y/n) is my real name! Everything I told you is real!” 

He stood frozen so you took your chance to explain, fighting the cries that shook your body. 

“I love you. I-I wanted to give my body to the guy I love and it’s you. It was my first time having sex with you! I’m not some vixen who sleeps around. I’m just me!—a college student in need of money. Believe me, I beg you.”

It honestly didn’t matter to him if the girl he loved had his first time with him or not, he loved her regardless. But when you say it like that, he knew that trusting him with your virginity must have meant a great deal to you. That almost made him want to hug you but the rational part of his mind begged him to have some dignity. 

“You broke my trust” he exhaled, barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much pain I’m feeling. But I love you…and it would kill me if you weren’t around.”

You take a step forward and grasp his hand to place on top of your heart, making him feel how much it beats for him. 

He’s entranced to feel your racing heart, a testament to your love. This gesture was enough to repair a piece of his shattered heart. 

He uses your interlocked hands to pull you into his arms, burying your face on his chest. You snuggled close as warm tears fell slowly on your cheeks.

“I don’t wanna leave” you cried softly. 

“You’re not leaving until you make me trust you again. And if I trust you again, I won’t let you leave.” 

You nod and ask, “What do you want me to do?”

Zayne cleared his thoughts even if his emotions were a mess. But he was an intelligent and rational man, he was able to think clearly in times of distress and he knew what needed to be done. He knows how you’ll pay for your sins. 

“From now on, I want you to be honest with me. No lies or secrets between us. Tell me everything you feel because I want your full transparency.”   

It was a light sentence and you were eternally grateful to the forgiveness he showed you. Because you'd die if he didn���t.   

“I will. So let’s start on a clean slate please.” you grip his shirt, signaling him your desperation. “I’ll be that girl you met in the park. And you have to believe me when I say I loved you every step of the way. I-I won’t even take the money if it means proving my feelings are real.”

Zayne shook his head as he caressed your hair. ‘Take the money and promise me you won’t leave me. Don’t put yourself in a situation like this just for some money. If you need some, then ask me.”

“What?”

“If you need support I’ll be there to help you in any way I can. All I ask is for you to do the same for me.” 

“Of course I will!” Your voice came out louder than intended and he smiled, yet not like he used to.  

“But you’ll move to Harvard soon for med school? How-how are we going to do this?”

Zayne’s face fell at the mention of his move at the end of his vacation. He hadn’t forgotten but it was a reminder that summer was nearing its end. He had to settle all affairs before treading on a new chapter in his life. 

He sighed, arms still around you. “Long distance isn’t easy, and I don’t know how we’ll do it.” 

Fear crept into you like a snake dampening your mood.    

“But,” he continued with a promising tone. “I’m not giving up on us. I won’t let a little distance come between us. We’ll make it work.”

‘We’ll make it” 

“We will” 

He whispers in your ears, kissing the top of your head, and bathing himself with the love that he receives from you. 

You feared a second chance wouldn’t last long but if anything were the testament to your unbreakable bond with Dr. Zayne, it would be the family photo with you and the kids, standing nicely on his office desk.