#and then i also had to set it down for like an hour for the same reason. i just. im gonna go play minecraft for a few hours.

[adorekento]

"TELL ME WHAT TO DO."

summary: life has never been better since marrying Nanami Kento—every second feels like something you wouldn’t trade for your favorite food. But who would've thought that even after 3 years of marriage, you both still haven’t had sex?

warnings (18+): MDNI. husband!nanami x wife!reader, angst to smut, explicit sexual content, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up), reader is DESPERATE, insecure, demanding, no usage of 'y/n', dominance, masturbation, he pulled out but she wanted creampie!!!!, fingering, handjob, breeding kink, pregnancy thoughts, “daddy” used in reader’s inner thoughts, begging, choking (light), edging (light), they're both a freak for eo, cursing, praise kink, thoughts of kids, soft dom!nanami, he talks u through it gng 💋, reader is very whiny, pet names, mature themes, intimate sex if u blink, vulnerability, strong language, etc. (lmk!!)

author's notes: bro rhis took me like 2 weeks cuz of depression 🥀. I'm barely surviving!!!!!! I DIDN’T edit this so if there r typos or shit... js pretend u didn’t see them ok 💔 love yall twin!!!s!!. Also dw I see those requests piling up in my inbox—keep ‘em coming . I genuinely LOVE reading ur ideas, even if my brain is slow at the moment. OK ENJOY READING

word count: 5.2k (not proofread)

Your thighs clenched. Again.

It has been clenching for so many hours that they’ve gone numb. You shift under the soft blanket, the air thick with the scent of your husband’s cologne lingering from earlier, and it makes your stomach twist with frustration.

You’re soaking. Again.

It’s pathetic, really. How easily your body responds now—how even the ghost of his touch, the memory of his voice rumbling low in your ear as he tells you how proud he is of you, makes your cunt throb.

crazy, right?

Your husband. Your fucking husband. The man you've been married to for years. Who’s seen you at your worst, held your hair back while you threw up from period cramps, memorized the way you like your coffee, babied you, kissed your stretch marks, and still acts like you’re the only woman to ever walk this earth.

And still, after all that—he hasn’t fucked you.

Not once.

Not on your honeymoon.

Not on your anniversaries.

Not during those quiet, late nights when you're curled up in his lap, drunk on wine and love, whispering every filthy thing you want him to do to you.

Nothing.

Never.

You’ve made out, sure. He’s fingered you maybe once or twice a month, always with the kind of slow care that made you want to scream.

You’ve given him a few handjobs, watched him cum in your grasp while he grunted your name and bit his lip so hard it bled. But that’s where it always ends.

That’s where it always stops.

Because Nanami Kento, your perfect, maddeningly composed husband, is gentle. Too fucking gentle.

So gentle it’s driving you absolutely insane.

He says he wants to wait.

Says love is about time.

That he wants everything to feel right—not rushed, not pressured, not like he’s using your body just because you’re married. He says you’re not a thing to be taken. That he wants to love you, not consume you.

It would’ve been romantic. hell. it IS romantic. At first. That patience. That unwavering control. You thought, ‘Wow, this man is made for me.’

But now?

It's been years, and you’re left curled up on the couch at 03:54… flushed and needy, wrapped in one of his shirts with your thighs pressed tight and your fingers covered in your own slick.

And no matter what you watch, no matter what you read, no matter how deep you fuck yourself with your own fingers—nothing feels like him.

Because you don’t want your fingers.

You want his tongue.

You want his cock.

You want his hands pinning you down, his teeth grazing your throat, his voice low and wrecked in your ear while he finally lets himself have you the way you’ve both been dying for.

You’ve tried to seduce him. Girl, have you tried. You’ve worn those little lingerie sets he bought for you, tried riding his thigh in nothing but lace. Tried whispering all your filthy little fantasies in his ear, hands sneaking down his pants, lips trailing down his chest.

But every fucking time, it ends the same.

You straddle him.

You grind.

He kisses you slowly.

You can feel him—his hard, thick cock pressing up against your dripping heat.

And just when you think this time, he’s finally going to snap—

He stops.

A knock at the door.

A call from work.

Or worse—he pulls back, looks at you with those gentle fucking eyes, cups your face, and says something like, “Not tonight, sweetheart. I don’t want to rush this.”

And what the fuck are you supposed to do with that?

Your heart aches with how much you love him. Truly. Every day with him feels like living in a dream. He treats you like royalty—makes you feel adored, cherished, like no one else even exists. He never forgets a thing. He compliments you constantly. He’d die before hurting you.

But when you’re ovulating and every nerve ending is on fire, when your skin is begging for his hands, and your body is aching for him to break the rules he set—when you’re on the edge of tears because you’re so painfully, brutally, unapologetically needy—all that love starts to taunt you.

Because it’s not enough.

You’re 99% content. You really are.

But that 1%?

That one, tiny, aching percent that never gets touched? That part is starving.

Sex.

You couldn’t hwlp but feel a little pouty every time your friends launched into another one of their steamy stories—laughing, swapping details, comparing notes like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You’d sit there with your lips pressed into a tight smile, nodding along, trying not to let the emptiness in your chest show.

It wasn’t like you wanted to spill your own secrets—if you even had any. Sex is supposed to be private, intimate, something you wouldn't just toss into a group chat like gossip.

But still… The silence on your end wasn’t a choice. You had nothing to share. No experience. No stories. Just a head full of filthy thoughts and daydreams that kept you up at night, especially when he crossed your mind.

And it’s eating you alive.

You slam your laptop shut, fingers still slick, frustration bubbling under your skin like lava. This isn’t just arousal anymore—it’s anger. It’s longing. It’s desperation laced with hurt, laced with doubt.

Does he not want me?

Does he not think I’m sexy enough?

Does he not feel the same ache I do?

Tears threaten to burn in your eyes, but you blink them back.

No.

Fuck that.

You weren’t going to cry because your own husband wouldn’t fuck you.

You were going to make him.

Your hands found his tie the moment he walked into the bedroom, tired from work, shirt slightly undone, hair a little tousled—the sight of him only made the fire in your gut explode harder.

“My love…” you breathed, your voice nearly shaking as you tugged him down, fingers curling in the fabric of his tie like a lifeline.

A low groan escaped his lips as you pulled him flush against you, your legs locking around his waist like a vice, yanking him down onto the bed without hesitation. The soft thud of his weight on the mattress was drowned out by the pounding in your chest, in your pussy, in your damn soul.

“Kento…” you whined, voice cracking into something that sounded more like a sob, more like please. Your whole body trembled beneath him, needy and raw and exposed.

You were so fucking horny it was hard to think—hard to breathe. Everything felt too hot, too loud, too full of him.

His hands found your hips, grounding and warm. He squeezed them gently, like he always did—so fucking gentle—and you wanted to scream.

“…yes, honey?”

And then you felt it.

He pressed his crotch to your soaked panties, the hard line of his cock dragging against your swollen folds, and you moaned—a broken, uncontrollable sound that came from somewhere deep in your chest.

It wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

“Ken..” you gasped again, hips grinding up to meet him, shameless and desperate. “Please—fuck, please—just fuck me. please.”

Your fingers gripped his shirt now, trembling. “I can’t take it anymore, I can’t—I need you, I fucking need you. Not your fingers. Not your sweet words. Not your soft kisses.”

You looked up at him, wild-eyed, tears threatening again—not from sadness this time, but from the sheer force of everything you’ve buried.

“I need your cock, Kento. I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me until I forget my name. I need to know you want me like that, too.”

He looked stunned. Lips parted. Hands frozen.

He kept looking into your eyes. Deep—like he was staring straight into the core of you, trying to read every emotion you didn’t know how to say without crumbling.

“Darling… we—”

“Oh, is this the part where you tell me we have to wait?” you snapped, “Is this where you say you don’t want to rush our relationship? Where you tell me this can’t be about lust? That you want to wait until it’s the ‘perfect time’?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer and yet pushing with your words, with the venom dripping from your tongue—born out of pure desperation.

“Are you seriously about to do that again, Ken’? Because I swear I’m gonna lose it.”

“N-No��� I mean—”

You shook your head, the burn in your throat threatening to spill into tears, but you swallowed it down because you weren’t sad

You were furious.

“I get frustrated, Ken.” you growled, barely holding yourself together. “I get so mad like I could fucking scream, like I could cry and break things, and I hate it. I hate that I feel this way about you.”

You choked on your breath, the words pouring from you like they’d been waiting at the edge of your tongue for months.

“I get so fucking turned on when you don’t touch me the way I want. When you keep doing this thing where you kiss me like I’m made of porcelain as jf I’ll crack if you fuck me like you want to. And it drives me insane because I know you want to. I can feel it.”

Your hands slid down his chest, your fingers trembling as you pressed your palm against the hard, obvious bulge in his pants.

“You’re hard, Ken’. Every time. Every fucking time. You get like this and then you just—stop. You stop and you say something gentle and sweet and then just nothing happens.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just listened.

“Do you even love me, baby?” you whispered, voice breaking. “Do you even want me? Do you want to fuck me, too, or is that just me?”

“Am I not attractive enough for you? Is that it?” Your voice cracked, your eyes locked on his, daring him to lie—begging him to give you something.

Still, he didn’t interrupt. He didn’t lean in to kiss you and hush you like he always did. He just watched, his jaw tight, eyes burning with something deeper.

Because he wanted to hear it. All of it.

What else did he even make you feel—just because he wanted to be patient? Just because he thought patience was love? When it only made you feel neglected, starved, and completely out of your mind with need?

He was too quiet. Too still.

The silence pressed heavy between you both, louder than any shout, any moan, any begging you’ve ever done.

He just stared, his hands still on your hips, his eyes unreadable—but burning. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, or hurt, or just holding something back with every ounce of control in his body.

And that silence?

It fucking crushed you.

Your throat tightened. You hated how your eyes started to sting again, tears threatening to spill even though you swore you wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not over this. Not over the fact that you practically threw yourself at your own husband and he still wouldn’t fuck you.

You looked away, trying to blink the tears back, trying to swallow the humiliation clawing its way up your throat.

“I—I shouldn’t have said anything..” you whispered, voice barely there. “Forget it. Just forget it. Let’s just—go to sleep or something, okay? I didn’t mean to—fuck, I didn’t mean to ruin everything, I just—”

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”

Your eyes widened.

Your breath caught.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you ever since the first time I saw you.”

Your eyes snapped to his.

“I wantwd to bend you over the second I heard you laugh.” he went on, voice shaking now—not with hesitation, but with restraint.

“I wanted to have you moaning my name in some dark hallway before I even knew your name. You were wearing that tight fucking skirt and that smug little smirk like you already knew I’d fall for you—and I did. I fucking did.”

“I even wanted to know how good it would sound if you moan my name the moment it left your lips for the first time.” Your breath hitched at his words, your thighs involuntarily clenching.

“You think I don’t want you? Baby, I wake up hard just from dreaming about you. I jerk off in the shower thinking about what your pussy would feel like wrapped around me. I have to force myself to stop every fucking time we make out because I know that if I go too far, I’m not stopping until I’m buried inside you and making you scream.”

You whimpered out loud. You couldn’t help it. He chuckled low, breath heavy against your lips, his cock grinding slow against your soaked core.

“You don’t know how many nights I’ve spent fucking my hand to the thought of you—legs spread, tears on your cheeks, begging for my cock.”

You were trembling now, your nails digging into his shirt. “I thought I was protecting you...” he admitted. “I thought I was being gentle. Loving. Waiting until the right moment. But fuck, baby, I didn’t know I was hurting you by not taking what we both need.”

His hands slid under your shirt, palms hungry against your bare skin.

“and for that… I'm really sorry, I really mean it.” he murmured, his hands slid up under your shirt—warm, wide palms trailing up your sides until they found your breasts, and he groaned.

It was guttural, instinctive, like he couldn’t believe he’d kept himself from touching you like this for so long. He palmed you through your bra at first, then tugged the fabric down, letting your tits spill into his hands.

“Fuck…” he whispered, voice ragged. “Look at you.”

Your hands flew to his—gripping them, grounding yourself. They were so big, so steady, and they felt like fire on your skin. You weren’t even sure if you were holding him there or trying to keep yourself from falling apart.

His thumbs brushed over your nipples underneath your bra which made your back arch, a soft whimper escaping your lips before you could even think to hold it back.

“Every time you’d crawl into my lap…” he growled, “or wear those little shorts around the house... I’d have to walk away, baby. I’d go to the other room and calm myself down so I wouldn’t bend you over the fucking couch like I wanted to.”

You whimpered again, biting your lip as your thighs rubbed together, aching for friction.

“I’d picture this.” he murmured, leaning in to kiss down your neck, nipping at your skin like he couldn’t stand not having more. “Your tits in my hands. Your legs wrapped around me. Your pussy so wet and hot and ready for me. I’d picture you on your knees, begging me to ruin you.”

“Ken—Kento..”

He pressed his forehead to yours again, his hands still full of you, his cock grinding harder into your soaked panties as he stared down at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

“I get it. So…” he whispered. “Tell me what to do.”

You blinked up at him, your lips parted, breath stuttering, heart pounding like a fucking drum.

“Tell me how to touch you. Where to kiss you. How to fuck you. I’ll do any-everything. just tell me.”

You looked up at him, breathless, pupils blown wide, hair a mess, nipples hard under his fingers—but your voice? It came out sharp, needy, laced with months—years—of built-up frustration.

“You wanna know what to do, Ken?” you hissed, your hips jerking up against him, chasing friction like your life depended on it. “Start by not stopping this time. Touch me like you mean it…” you snapped, grinding up into his cock, desperate and aching.

“No more slow fucking kisses and soft whispers and telling me to wait for the right time. This is the right fucking time. I’m wet, I’m throbbing, and if you don’t fuck me tonight, I swear, I’m gonna hump your fucking thigh until I pass out.”

“I’m not made of glass, Kento.” you added, wrapping your fingers around his wrists, dragging his hands down to your waist, then back up to your breasts again, encouraging him to squeeze harder—needier.

“You can be rough with me. I want it. I need it. I need to feel your cock inside me, I need to hear you lose control. I need to see what the fuck you look like when you’re not trying so hard to be perfect.”

You were rambling, but you didn’t care. You were trembling under him, wild with want, your panties completely ruined, sticking to your folds, your clit aching from how ignored it had been for far too fucking long.

“I want you to grab me. Flip me. Manhandle me if you fucking have to. I want you to fuck me until my thighs shake and I cry and scream and forget my own name—”

“You want all that?”

You grabbed his tie and yanked his face down, nose to nose, your lips brushing against his as you hissed.

“Yes. I want all of it. I want you, Kento. I want every filthy, pent-up, repressed, desperate thought you’ve ever had about me. on me. in me. right fucking now.”

He blinked once… then his mouth was on yours, hands everywhere, his tongue slid against yours, wet and messy and hot, swallowing the soft whimpers falling out of your mouth as he ground his cock right against your soaked panties, letting you feel how thick and hard he was for you.

One of his hands gripped your breast, kneading it roughly, finally without hesitation. The other slid down—quick, deliberate—and he moaned into your mouth when he felt the mess between your thighs.

“You’re soaked…” he growled. “my wife is fucking dripping.”

Your hips jerked when his fingers pressed to your clothed clit, just enough to make you jolt with a high-pitched cry. He smirked against your lips. “You meant it, didn’t you?”

“you whimpered, “stop teasing—fuck—fuck me alrwady.”

You were tugging at his belt now, frantic and shaking, and he let you—watched as you undid the buckle, pulled the zipper down, reached into his boxers with desperate, greedy fingers. You wrapped your hand around him and nearly gasped.

Fuck, he's huge. Hot, heavy, twitching against your palm.

“Y-You’ve been hiding this.” you choked out, stroking him slow just to feel the way his hips shuddered.

“I was- trying to be patient,” he rasped, voice nearly hoarse now. “But you—fuck… you test me every day, baby.”

His hand pushed your panties aside and when his fingers slid through your folds, his whole body shuddered.

“So wet for me… So soft.” he whispered. “I’ve dreamed about this—about the way you’d feel, how tight you’d be.”

“Then take meeee…” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Kento. Just—please. I need it. I need you.”

He grabbed you by the hips and hooked your legs around his waist. Your panties were gone in seconds—ripped, tossed somewhere blindly across the room.

He positioned himself at your entrance, just barely pressing the thick tip against your soaked slit, teasing your hole. You whimpered, trying to push your hips up, but he gripped your thighs hard, pinning you in place.

“Tell me again..”

“I want you, Kento, so fuckinggg bad.” you breathed, nearly sobbing from the anticipation. “I want your cock. I want you to fuck me like you’ve been dying to. I want you to ruin me.”

That was all it took.

He pushed in, slow at first, making sure you felt every inch, veins, size—stretching you so fucking deep your back arched off the bed and a broken moan ripped from your throat.

“Oh fuck—Ken—Kento—”

He bottomed out and stayed there for a second, just breathing, gripping your hips like he was holding himself together with threads.

“You feel… incredible..” he groaned. “So tight—so fucking perfect for me.” Then he pulled out, and slammed back in—hard, which made you scream.

He didn’t give you a second to recover—he started pounding into you like he was possessed, like every bit of restraint and patience he’d shown all these years had finally exploded into raw, filthy need.

and you love it.

Your body bounced with each thrust, your thighs trembling as he slammed into you again and again, the sound of skin slapping and your soaked pussy squelching filling the fucking room.

“This is what my wife wanted so bad, right?” he groaned into your ear, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand, the other gripping your waist so tight it might bruise. “This what you were so desperate for, baby?”

“Yes—fuck—yes, Kento!” you cried, arching into him, legs shaking from how deep he was.

"Take it nicely, just like that..."

His cock hit places your fingers never could—each thrust pressing against your sweet spot so perfectly you were already close to tears. It was brutal, perfectly brutal, rough in the exact way you’d been begging for. You sobbed, the pleasure too much, the pressure too high.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you like this since the first time you touched yourself beside me and thought I didn’t notice.” he groaned, mouth against your jaw. “Thought I didn’t see the way your thighs shook, the way you whispered my name when you thought I was asleep.”

Your walls clenched around him hard.

“Oh my—Ken—please—please don’t stop!” you begged, barely able to breathe between moans. “Harder, please, harder—”

He let go of your wrists and grabbed your throat, just gently, enough to tilt your chin up so he could look you in the eyes while he ruined you.

“Look at me when you cum.” he growled. “I want to see your face when I make you fall apart.”

And fuck, you were so close—his cock dragging over your most sensitive spot with every savage thrust, your clit grinding against the base of him with every slam of his hips, your walls spasming already.

“Oh, my sweet baby…” he hissed, thrusting harder, deeper, his voice dark and breathless. “Cum all over my cock, baby—show me how much you fucking needed it.”

You choked on a cry, nails raking down his back, and your whole body tensed.

Then shattered.

Your orgasm hit like a fucking truck—hot, intense, blinding—your mouth wide open in a silent scream, tears streaming down your cheeks from how violently your body shook beneath him.

He groaned when he felt you clamp down around him, hips stuttering as he fucked you through your high.

“That’s it.” he grunted. “Good girl—such a good fucking girl—taking me so well—”

He pulled out just in time, groaning deep as he came all over your stomach and thighs, hot and thick and messy, hand wrapped around his cock as he finished, eyes locked onto your tear-streaked, fucked-out face.

You were gasping for air, still trembling, legs spread wide and twitching. “Why did you pull outtt, Kennn???” you whined, breath hitching, still sprawled out beneath him—skin flushed, soaked, trembling.

Your voice was hoarse, cracked with frustration and the remnants of your high, but still laced with that needy, bratty tone only he could pull out of you.

Nanami’s chest rose and fell, his breath still uneven, a strand of hair stuck to his damp forehead. “I-... Are you alright? I wasn't rough, was I? Did I hurt you—”

“Nooo.. answer my question, baby!” you whined as he blinked down at you, dazed, cock still twitching in his fist. And then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You were that desperate to get bred, huh?” he murmured, fingers tracing the mess he made across your stomach, dragging the thick cum over your skin in lazy, teasing circles. “You wanted all of it, baby? Inside?”

You nodded uncontrollably, whimpered while your hips twitches at his words, at the way his tone dropped.

“Yes, fuck, Ken… I wanted you to fill me up—why’d you fucking stopp?” Your voice crscked again as you glared up at him with glossy eyes, grabbing at his wrist. “You always stop. I wanted to feel it, feel you, all the way—”

He leaned in, crowding over you again, one big hand sliding under your ass to keep your legs spread, the other smearing more of his cum onto your inner thighs like he was marking you.

“Then tell me..” he whispered, voice low and gravelly, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you next.”

You rolled your eyes, “Be roughhh, babyyy..”

“You don’t want me to be careful?” he growled, voice rough in your ear as his cock pressed right back against your soaked folds, already hard again. “Not now. Please.”

“Then I hope you’re ready to take every fucking inch of me.” He grinned, making you gasped as he slid back in—slow, just to tease, just to make you feel that first stretch.

You clawed at his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist again, heels digging into his back to force him deeper.

“Fuck—fuck, yes, right tbere—” you sobbed, already overwhelmed, already addicted to the way he filled you. “Don’t stop, Ken—don’t you fucking stop again! Fuckkk- Don't stop—”

He didn’t.

He gripped your thighs and snapped his hips forward hard, burying himself to the hilt with a growl that shook through your body.

The bed rocked.

The sounds—wet, deep groans, filthy moans—filled the room even more as he started thrusting, deep and rough and mean, but with that same love in his touch that made it unbearable in the best way.

One of his hands slid between your bodies, cupping your tits, squeezing them, thumbing over your nipple as you writhed beneath him.

“You feel this?” he grunted. “This pussy was made for me. Yeah? Take it slow… Take it like a good girl. I love you, sweetheart.”

You couldn't even form a response, your nails scratched down his back, your mouth open in a cry of desperate pleasure.

“I wanted you bent over every surface in our fucking house.” he kept going, hips snapping, “Wanted to watch my cum leak out of your pretty pussy while you begged me to give you more. I wanted to ruin you.”

“Then fucking ruin me, Ken!” you screamed, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “Mark me up, mess me up, make me yours—do whatever the fuck you want to me!”

He kissed you then—deep, harsh, tongue in your mouth while he rammed into you, over and over and over, chasing the orgasm he’d been holding back for years.

And this time?

He didn’t pull out.

You couldn’t bring yourself to admit just how badly you wanted him to fill you up — not because you actually wanted kids right now, but because the idea of it, of him, made something primal stir inside you.

It was embarrassing, really — how every time he interacted with children, something in you ached. The way his voice softened, the way his eyes lit up with warmth and patience — it drove you absolutely wild. Kids love him and his presence so much. You’d never imagined something so domestic could be so erotic.

Maybe it's just you though...

And yet, the thought crossed your mind again.. Would it be too much to call him daddy? The word itself felt cringe, almost ridiculous on your tongue, and you worried it might ruin the moment — that it might make him laugh, or worse, be turned off, and look at you differently.

So instead, you bit your lip and stayed quiet, your breath catching as the heat between your bodies lingered.

Your hands flew up to cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds that slipped out anyway. Sweat clung to your skin, your bodies still tangled in the aftermath of pleasure, his weight a welcome pressure atop you.

Every slight shift sent aftershocks through you, and you didn’t know if your body could handle another round. But deep down, you knew you didn’t want him to stop.

His breath was hot against your neck, each exhale fanning over your damp skin like a whisper of fire. You felt the way his chest rose and fell against yours, the weight of his body grounding you, making everything outside this room feel far away.

His fingers grazed along your waist, a slow, deliberate touch, as if he was memorizing you, all over, again.

Your thighs trembled around his hips, still sensitive from the last wave he pulled from you.

You whimpered softly, unsure whether it was from overstimulation or craving more. Probably both.

He tilted his head, catching the sound, and you didn’t have to look to know he was smirking—that teasing, dangerous smirk that always made your breath hitch.

“You’re so quiet all of a sudden, my love.” he murmured, voice thick and low, words dragging through your skin like silk and smoke. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with your heart hammering in your chest and your mind so full of him, of the way he held you like you were fragile and ruined all at once.

The word lingered on your tongue—Daddy—and the thought of saying it out loud made your thighs press tighter around him.

Embarrassment flared in your stomach, but it was quickly drowned out by the fire he lit every time he touched you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing the hair from your flushed face. “What are you thinking about?”

You bit your lip, eyes locked on his. Maybe it was the afterglow talking. Maybe it was the way he was still inside you, making you feel so full, so connected, like he could reach into your soul and leave a mark. But the truth bubbled up anyway, hot and real.

“I was thinking…” You hesitated, cheeks burning. “…how badly I want you. How badly I want to give you everything—even if I’m not ready for what that means.”

“You already gave me everything..”

His words struck something deep inside you—a tenderness that made your chest ache more than the roughness ever could.

You blinked up at him, eyes glassy, lips parted. You could feel how hard he was trying to hold himself back now, his usual teasing edge traded for something raw, reverent. Like he was worshipping every inch of you just by being there. Just by staying.

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, the pad of it catching on the slight swell of your bottom lip. “You don’t have to be ready..” he murmured, voice low and honest. “Not for that. Not for anything you're not sure about. But if you ever are…” His gaze dropped to your lips, then lower—to where your bodies were still joined. “Just say the word, and I’ll give you everything.”

You whimpered, the sound caught somewhere between need and awe. Your hips shifted instinctively, a silent plea for more, even if your body was already spent and trembling.

The heat hadn’t left you—it only simmered lower, deeper, curling in your belly like a secret promise.

And he felt it. Of course he did. The faint movement. The soft squeeze of your walls around him. The way your eyes silently begged.

“Still not done with me?” he asked, teasing but gentle. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you.” you breathed, your fingers threading into the damp strands of his hair.

“I want you to ruin me, Ken. Again. Slowly this time.”

“Then we’ll take our time.”

© [ adorekento ] do not steal, repost, or translate my work.

[0bticeo]

air sex with mark. reader has begged him to take her flying before, but bouncing on his dick in the sky is new for him. i feel like at first he would be hesitant, but then would enjoy the thrill of showing off his strength. and maybe he also likes the idea of someone looking up and seeing, as a treat

WHAT'S NEXT, ALIEN SEX?

summary:

what happens next can probably be explained by a mix of sleep deprivation, adrenaline, and not having seen your boyfriend for two months. fuck martians. fuck the nasa. fuck cecil.

“mark?”

“mm?”

he keeps pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck, hands already reaching for the small, silver zipper of your catsuit.

“fuck me while you fly us home.”

tw: air sex, piv sex, fingering, slightly ooc!mark but it'll make sense in part 3 i prommy, switch!mark, cunnilingus, mark being whipped, fluff, couples fighting together against a common enemy à la will turner/elizabeth swann minus the swords, if u know who the art belongs to pls lmk so i can give credit pls, the author being a vv slow writer and apologising, pls show my bby some love and leave a comment, mwah

part 2 to boyfriend material

having a superhero boyfriend has its perks. 

sure, you may get interrupted mid-date by a world-ending emergency or a bank robbery - because invincible has range like that. sure, cecil stedman has you on watch because anybody that gets close to mark gets the GDA premium treatment of you-could-potentially-be-useful-so-we-keep-a-close-eye-on- you-in-case-something-happens. and sure, nolan grayson's ice cold gaze - assessing, cutting, predatory - sets you on edge.

but at the end of the day, you're in love with mark grayson. mark grayson is invincible. so you love invincible. perfect syllogism. however, you could really do without the flaxans invading downtown chicago in the middle of your coffee date. 

“seriously? it’s the third time this month!”

he sends you an apologetic look over his sugary monstrosity of a beverage. something with so much caramel and whipped cream you’re getting vertigo just by looking at the damn thing. viltrumite biology-induced cravings, maybe?

you’re cut in your musings by panicked passer-bys running for their lives.

he takes a sip through his straw, brown eyes darkening, split earth after a thunderstorm. a little pout has his lips curling downwards. you kiss it away, a short, sweet peck that has him smiling against your mouth.

“karma’s a bitch,” you grumble, downing your coffee - black, no sugar because you’re no heathen.

mark lets out a huff of laughter, something awfully soft in his eyes. his fingers lace with yours, bringing your hand to his lips.

“c’mon, baby. duty calls.”

duty is a damn bitch is what she is. one flick of your wrist has your civilian outfit - pretty, casual, a nice little sundress that had mark do a double take because you don’t wear these that often - melting away in the shadows, replaced by your trademark coat and catsuit. 

shadow’s back in the game and she’s pissed.

(her boyfriend’s struggling in the men’s room with his invincible suit, because clark kent makes wearing his super suit under his everyday clothes seem easy, but it really isn’t.)

it’s a bloodbath. 

downtown chicago has been turned into a one-sided battlefield, the harsh, viscous green of alien skin burnt into your retina. your jaw ticks. they’re aiming at civilians, laser beams turning innocents into fine, bloody paste.you witness a little girl, no older than five, face half melted in the concrete, whimpering as she takes her last breath. a twenty something college student cradling his abdomen, innards spilling out. christ’s sake, a dog, half eviscerated, crawling towards its dying master, man’s most loyal companion.

you step forward, cracking your knuckles. 

“sorry lads. the earth is closed today.”

the sun is still high above, a witness to dull afternoon hours turned into a horror scene. your shadow spreads and spreads, encompassing the army standing before you. you tilt your head, eyes rolling back behind your domino mask as you call in the darkness. the shadows twist. you raise your hand, pointing at the first few ranks aiming at you, barking in their language. 

further back, near the portal, on what appears to be their equivalent of a tank, their leader, face marred by a long, jagged scar running from his brow to his lips. they twist in a snarl upon glimpsing your silhouette. he raises an arm, finger vengefully pointed at you. ah, so they do recognise you.

looks like somebody didn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of your tridagger. pity.

you clench your hand into a fist. it doesn’t deter them, the way the ground shifts under their boots. the slow corruption of the concrete below, as it is rendered one with the dark. your shadow’s stretched out enough to encompass all of them and give them a nice, cosy one way trip to the shadow dimension. its many beasts are hungry for fresh meat. maybe then they’ll stop ruining your dates.

something shifts when the first bullet manages to hit you, the laser burning away both leather and kevlar. blood drips from your shoulder.

“oooh, so you want it close and personal, huh?”

 you grin and throw yourself in the fray, black cloying the edges of your vision.

adrenaline courses through your veins. your shadows move along with you, sliding and shifting, the ground caving in treacherously under the aliens’ feet. concrete splits open. the one on your left shouts, beady eyes wide and panicked, and shoots. bang. dodge, duck, slam your foot at the back of its knee and watch the fucker fall into the abyss. kick up its rifle and shoot. slam it in an alien’s skull before it gets to you.

the scent of charred flesh fills your nostrils. ah. you’ve been hit again. spots dance in front of your vision. you take a hit. another. another - your lips split, grin flashing wide as your hand pierces feeble tactical gear. blood drips on the ground. the alien looks at the gaping hole in its sternum.

(shadows bend to your will, you’ve explained to mark when you first met, on the edge of midnight city where you hail from. your legs were dangling carelessly at the edge of a skyscrape under his watchful gaze. even then, even before the both of you became something too much to be put into words, he wanted you safe.

you’ve demonstrated it for him. harmless things, your fingers molding together, shapes taking form on the wall, shadows rippling as they came to life, dripping down like ink as small rabbits hopped out of the dark and around mark’s legs. 

you’ve shown the lethality of it. 

your gloved hands shifted, middle and index fingers pointing towards an approaching thug, other hand cradling your curled fingers.

bang.)

you’re laughing, cradling the poor thing’s heart, darkness like ink coating your fingers like a glove. you  make it sharper, deadlier. 

a shift behind you. the burning energy of a laser bullet aimed your way, straight for the head. too fast for you to dodge. 

a fist closes on it. 

you smile, lazily.

“mm. you’re late, invisible.”

invincible grins, a little sharp, wiping away flaxan blood on his suit, red a stark contrast against the bright yellow of it. lasers ricochet off him, rippling across his broad back as he turns to face you, shielding you with that cocky little grin you love. he rolls his shoulders, barely affected by it. you bite your lip at the sight.

“sorry, shade. you wouldn’t believe the traffic.” 

he moves, liquid smooth, hands on your hips as he shifts you away from an opponent. you use the momentum to head kick the fucker, its jaw giving away with a sickening crack under your soles. a sharp, screeching sound as it crumbles to the ground. you kick up its rifle, leaning on it with a sigh.

a tilt of your fingers and a shield rises before you, lasers sizzling against the surface.

invincible’s lips brush your jaw, gaze lazily surveying the progression of the flaxan troops.

“can i make up for it?” he breathes. “being late?”

even with his goggles hiding his eyes, you feel the weight of his gaze, something that has heat settling low in your core. his grin sharpens at that, nose brushing against the sliver of skin left bare by your suit. his thumbs rub small circles on your hip bones, and you’re intimately aware of how close he is, the firm line of his body pressing against yours, all hard edges, battle-honed. you lean back into him.

“maybe later. y’know, when earth isn’t invaded by murderous aliens.”

he chuckles, pressing a soft little kiss to your cheek. you gasp when he squeezes your ass. cheeky bastard.

“lemme deal with that.”

and fuck, the way he tears into them and slams their leader into the nearest building, fingers digging in the soft, breakable flesh of its throat, concrete shattering upon impact… you watch, eyes wide behind the lenses of your domino mask, as he crushes its skull between his hands, the bone brittle under his palms.

he turns back to look at you, floating above the battlefield, sun setting low behind his frame, his shadow stretching and stretching. blood drips down his clenched fist. you think of the deadly edge of a sword, perfectly poised, teetering on the edge of carnage. 

the flaxans look up, panicked, and aim at him. 

“sorry guys.” he cracks his knuckles, his grin sharp. “can’t keep my girl waiting.”

and fucking hell, you think as you leap towards the now empty tank, taking advantage of them being distracted. you should be focused on smashing the device creating their portals. it’d be easy enough, to use the shadows as an exoskeleton to enhance your strength. 

it would be, if mark wasn’t so bloody gorgeous while smashing his enemies to pieces. you think you hear him laugh as he does, something almost boyish. sunlight hits him, all goldens and reds - so much red, dripping down his chin, staining his goggles. you watch the lean muscles ripple under his suit, the way his fingers flex as he curls them into fists, the way his shoulders tense. the way he toys with them, faster than they can perceive, dodging their shots at the very last second. he’s making them harm their own kin.

snap out of it.

you smash your rifle against the complex machinery beeping before you. utterly unrefined, but you’re not exactly well-versed in alien mechanics, so it’ll have to do. the green light of the portal fizzles out. it’s closed.

mark flies above, lazily cracking his wrist.

a low, mournful cry rises from the troops.

//

you’re standing in a secluded alleyway, having bravely fled from the crowd of journalists creeping closer to the scene of carnage. 

“wasn’t that meg?” you muse, taking off your domino mask with a relieved sigh.

mark’s thumbs find the underside of your eyes, gently massaging the skin where your mask has been pressing.

“oh, her?” 

he pouts. you giggle at that, leaning into his touch. gently, you pry off his mask, revealing what has to be humanity’s most devastating puppy eyes.

“what? she’s pretty.” a conspiratorial smirk. “i need to know where she bought that skirt.”

his hands drop from your face, lightly resting on your waist in a way that makes something primal in you purr. he’s soft with you, mindful of the cuts on your shoulder, on your forearm. from this close, you can smell him, sharp ozone, and something distinctly mark that has you almost nuzzling him, burying your nose in the crook of his neck. 

“actually that’s not a bad idea.” he grins. “it would look good on my bedroom floor.”

“mark, you little-”

“what? would you prefer your bedroom floor?”

you slap his chest.

he cackles at that, looking down at you like you’re something precious.

you inch closer, hands pressed up against his chest. you watch as his pupils dilate, a never-ending void consuming the soft brown of his eyes. his gaze darts down to your lips and he frowns. his thumb brushes away a small drop of blood oozing from the thin line where your lower lip has been split.

his thumb meets the tender skin of your mouth and you press a soft kiss to the tip of it. 

mark finds his heart stuttering in his chest. you’d think he’d be used to have you by now. three months in, tangled up in each other in both hero work and school work and yet there he is, back pressed up against the washed up wall of a dingy alleyway come dusk, flushing under your adoring gaze. 

you’re devouring him, hunger practically oozing off of you as you take him in, all firm lines and soft gazes. god, you think michelangelo might weep in despair for having died in an era without him to immortalize. his hand clenches, long, slender fingers left bare by his suit flexing smoothly in a motion that has you pressing your thighs together with a soft sigh. 

dusk settles over chicago, golden sunbeams brushing the sharp edge of his jaw and you raise your hand to trace it, absently. a smile curls up your lips when he leans into your touch, as your gloved fingers brush past his jaw to go up, up, up, carding through the soft mess of his hair. blood and viscera got stuck in it. he does get violent when he fights, you muse, absently.

there’s still blood splattered on his suit.

maybe you love him a little too much. maybe you should be worried your boyfriend once tore out one of the mauler twins’ head for having made fun of your hair, laying it before your feet like an offering. doesn’t matter when you feel him against you, hard and wanting. doesn’t matter when he’s burying his face in your neck, teeth nipping at the soft skin, marking you. 

what happens next can probably be explained by a mix of sleep deprivation, adrenaline, and not having seen your boyfriend for two months. fuck martians. fuck the nasa. fuck cecil. 

“mark?”

“mm?”

he keeps pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck, hands already reaching for the small, silver zipper of your catsuit. 

“fuck me while you fly us home.”

he freezes, parting from you. you nearly whine at the loss.

“wha- baby are you…?”

a soft flush blooms on his cheek and you coo, peppering soft kisses to his sweet face.

“c’mon… it’d be fun…”

you send him that look. the look that had him reeling at teen team’s base after a group mission. the look that had him fucking you in their showers, one hand firmly clasped on your mouth to muffle your moans as you heard rex and eve arguing outside. the look that had him fighting for his life under cecil’s no-nonsense gaze during briefings. the look that kept him company during his two months trip to space, palming himself through his suit to the thought of you.

fuck martians and their unchecked sequids invasion, he wanted you by his side. 

he has you now, so he puts his mask back on and pulls you close, breathing you in. coffee. that one vanilla and caramel perfume you love. blood. his thumb grazes the cut on your shoulder. you squirm in his grip.

“let’s get you home, mm? i’ll patch you up there.”

he scoops you up in his arms, fingers digging in the fat of your thighs as your legs wrap around his - sinfully small - waist. you’re in the air before you know it, arms wound tight around his neck, gloved fingers playing with what little baby hair is left uncovered by his mask. he shudders at the contact, a small whimper leaving his lips, barely audible with the roaring of the wind whipping past you.

you glance down. chicago stretches out, glimmering gold. at the edge of the horizon, you watch the sun set, all-consuming gold bleeding into creeping night blue. mark keeps flying you higher, careful not to go too high, where the air would be too rare for you to breathe.

your fingers dig in his shoulders, pulling you closer to him. he wouldn’t let you fall, you know.

(you’re in his bed, still panting, flushed and full in a way you’ve never felt before. mark has gathered you in his arms, and you’re curled up against him, head on his chest as he strokes your hair. he hasn’t been this relaxed in a long time, and you’re putty in his hands. 

you inch closer, fingers lacing with his, lips pressed to his knuckles. the bruises from his last fight are fading.

“mark?”

“yeah?”

“i meant it, y’know. i’m falling for you.”

he stills, a split-second of terrifying second-guessing. too much? too soon? you open your mouth, mortification creeping in. you close it when you meet his eyes, impossibly fond, the softest you’ve seen them yet.

“don’t worry. i’ll catch you. always. can’t have my baby falling.”

you boop his nose.

“sap.”

there’s a wide grin on your face. your heart feels light.)

his grip on you tightens. his lips brush against your ear, his voice low.

“i need you, baby.”

you feel his breath, harsh and heavy on your nape, the way his shoulders tense, adrenaline still coursing through him. your fingers palm his bulge, and you grin against his collarbone when you find him hard and wanting. you can feel the outline of his cock, even through the damn kevlar. you think you might feel the way he’s leaking through his boxers, too, tip flushed the same pretty shade of pink spreading across his cheeks. palm pressing in, grinding against the kevlar of his suit, you look up at him.

his breath catches. his hips stutter, his flight grows haphazard. his lips part in a soft, ragged little exhale of your name. you don’t think you’ve seen him this needy, with the way he presses you close - not just for safety - his hands somehow managing to knead your breasts, your ass, your thighs. 

it has you clenching your thighs, desperate for any kind of friction.

you lean closer, a soft whisper in his ear, lost to the icy wind nipping at your cheeks.

“is it the suit that turns you on?”

“it’s just…” he lets out something suspiciously close to a whimper. frustrated. needy. “i’m not sure how we should do this, y’know? logistically, i mean. i won’t let you fall, you know that, but what if-”

you press your lips to his, sweetly, softly. he melts against you. it feels like the roaring of the world has finally stopped, his mind a delicious, blissful blank. he’s stopped flying, he realises absently, pulling you close to him by the waist. you shiver, nestling against him, eager for warmth - viltrumites run hot. a side effect of having to fly in cosmic depths. 

he shudders deliciously when your nose brushes the sharp edge of his jaw, your mouth hot against his pulse, rabbit-fast under your ministrations. 

“baby…”

“you think too much,” you breathe.

he lets out something like a strangled gasp when you bring your hips closer to his, thigh brushing his aching cock. you stroke his cheek over his mask and he’s burning, inches away from ripping his suit off and fucking you senseless. 

he leans into your touch with a sigh, nuzzling your palm. 

“hey.” you give him a tiny eskimo kiss. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“no, i want to.” 

his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in the fat of them hard enough to leave bruises. he wonders how long it will take him to lose control, with the way you look at him like that, flushed and needy, practically gasping for air, like you can only breathe when his mouth is on yours. 

still he hesitates, because there’s something about the way you press yourself against him, catsuit drenched in blood, about the soft ripples of darkness fluttering along the edges of your coat, about how fucking out of it he makes you -

he couldn’t stay away from you if he tried, even if he should, for your sake.

he all but pins you against him, relishing in the feeling of your smaller frame pressed tight against the broad expanse of him, his hand finding its way to your chest, to that small, tantalising zipper between your collarbones. his thumb brushes the sliver of skin you’ve left exposed. for comfort, you said. 

he flashes you a grin, thumb soft on your pulse. persistent. deadly.

“comfortable?”

you splutter.

“mark!”

“that’s invincible to you, shadow.”

your jaw snaps shut. you swallow. right. no names while wearing the suit, but fuck. it’s getting hard to breathe, and the lack of oxygen isn’t at fault. mar- invincible cups your chest, hand gently squeezing the soft mound under your suit. you feel your heart hammer violently under his touch and know he feels it too. he hums, finger circling your nipple, the kevlar brittle under his touch. the motion, the rush of air as he slowly makes his way through the skies, the only thing stopping you from plummeting to your death being him-

it has you wet beyond reason.

“invincible,” you whine, desperate. 

it gets to him, the way your voice softens, the way your hips grind against his thigh mindlessly. he can’t see your face, with the way you’ve been trying to bury it in his chest, with a flustered noise.

fuck, you’re cute.

he pins you to him, your back to his chest, one strong arm locking you in place, a vice grip around your middle. you bite back a soft cry, his erection firmly pressed against your ass. his mouth presses against your neck, a hint of teeth against your carotid that has you gasping his name.

his fingers grasp the zipper, the motion a delicate little thing. cold air hits your skin and you whimper softly, invincible’s cheek nuzzling yours as he pulls it down, down, down, until your breasts spill out of your suit, nipples pebbled and aching, until his fingers reach your cunt.

“shit…” 

you see him bite his lip from the corner of your eye. his fingers dip between your lips, teasingly, barely brushing against your clit, enough for him to find you soaked and eager.

“all for me?”

you smile at his eagerness, at the (almost) innocent surprise in his voice. 

“you see anyone else here?”

he nips your earlobe, grinning wide against your ear.

“cheeky.”

you and invincible- fuck it, you and mark had sex before. hell, you lost your virginity to him in what has to be one of the most intimate moments in your life. but this? this is close second. this, you and mark, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground, head in the clouds, watching as the sun sets. mark’s lips slot against yours, your head tilting back to meet him halfway, his fingers curling in you in a way that has you seeing stars.

he sweeps your coat away with a soft growl.

“careful! it’s a gift!”

“yeah, a very inconvenient one.”

“you gifted it to me you- ah!”

somewhere along the way, he managed to free his cock, the bite of the cold air harsh against his leaking tip. you let out a soft whine of protest when he drags it along your folds, robbed of the sinful vision of his leaking tip. 

“m’gonna put it in, okay?” he babbles against your ear, hips grinding against your ass. “oh, baby-”

he lets out a low, soothing sound, nuzzling your neck as he drives himself deeper in you, until you’re clawing at his bicep with a keen.

“m-mark-”

it’s one thing to have him take you from behind, his hand warm and steady on your hip, pulling you impossibly closer to him. it’s another to do it in the air, where you have little to no leverage to make him feel good, too. 

“fuck- do you like it?” he rasps, hips snapping forward.

“mm-”

you’re caught in the in-between, the cold air nipping at your skin, mark hot and heavy behind you, fucking up into you like he’d die if he didn’t. your vision blurs at the edges. it’s too much, the delicious drag of his fingers as he teases your clit, the way his cock fills you to the brim. so fucking warm you feel like you’re about to melt into a puddle of heat. 

looking down would mean a casual reminder of your situation, hundreds of feet above ground, but you do. the sight has you moaning, wanton and debauched, with the way mark’s cock has your lower abdomen bulging out ever so slightly with each thrusts. 

you don’t even realise he’s leaning back until you’re faced with a flurry of emerging stars, watching you from lightyears away. he’s practically lying down in the clouds, the humidity of it raising goosebumps on your heated skin, like he’s baring you to the world.

slowly, he pulls out and has you straddle him, facing him.

he grins up at you, hands resting on your hips, thumbs drawing soothing circles on your hips as you sink down on him with a soft little moan of his name.

“talk about being on cloud nine.”

you snort.

“and i’m the cheeky one?”

“absolutely. my cheeky, adorably fucked-out girlfriend.”

you open your mouth to bite back when his cock hits that sweet, sweet little spot inside of you and your words die in a low, needy little moan. he’s taken off his mask, you realise, absently, discarding it god knows where. he’s taken off his mask, and he’s looking up at you like you’re his sun.

and you’re beautiful, he thinks, running his hand along the slope of your neck, relishing in the contact, in the way you melt against him. absolutely breathtaking, the setting sun cradling you in gold until, shadows framing the dips and planes of you as you ride him until you come apart. he groans, watching your slick coat the base of his shaft, your cunt milking him for all he’s worth until he’s bursting at the seams, your name the only constant on his lips as his hips buck up into you. 

“mmm fuck- i wanna try something-”

“mmn?”

he grins, something a little sweet, a little sharp. there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s up to no good.

“sit on my face.”

“you- mark!”

“what? i won’t let you fall. besides… i did say i’d eat you out, didn’t i?”

you’re trembling, when he slides out of you and pulls you to him, eager, arms wrapped around your parted thighs as he settles you over his mouth. you keen at the first contact of his tongue against your cunt, hips bucking up instinctively. he groans against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. 

“taste so good, baby…”

he’s looking straight at you, feeling his cock harden as you grind yourself on his face, the lapels of your coat spread out on his abdomen like he’s about to spread you out, thumbs parting your nether lips to sink deeper in you, to taste you better. 

next thing you know, he’s sinking his fingers in you and sucking at your clit, the sharp press of his teeth against the sensitive bundle of nerves a shock to your system. you fist his hair and feel him tense beneath you, his eyes hooded as they take you in.

“mark- mark i can’t-”

he presses a soft kiss to your clit. sweet. reverent. you don’t know if you find it cute or unfairly hot, not with the way you’re dizzy with him, begging for something, anything. something in you builds, coils low in your underbelly and snaps, leaving mark’s lips drenched and his eyes rolling back in his sockets with a strangled moan. you make out more than you feel his hips stuttering, coming to a stop as he cums.

there’s a ringing in your head. nagging. persistent. it won’t go away, no matter how badly you want to shake it off. the world is narrowed down to you, mark, and the way his tongue gently lap at your oversensitive cunt, cleaning you up with tiny kitten licks that have your heart hammering in your chest.

then, slowly, he peels back from you, his face ruined by your slick. he presses a kiss to your inner thigh as he pulls back, a teasing little bite, and zip up your suit.

“can’t have you catching a cold on me, can i?”

the sun sets. mark grayson tucks you in his arms and flies you to midnight city as you doze off, his heartbeat strong and steady against your ear. he looks at you, all pressed up against his chest, head leaning against his shoulder, and smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

when he gets to your home - a small little flat tucked away in sixth avenue, midnight city, seventh floor, third window to the left - he lays you down on the couch and fetches the med kit. you curl up into yourself, half-asleep, reaching for the soft blanket draped on the armrest. a little meow interrupts you, nero looking up at you blearily. you scratch him behind his ears and watch at your cat falls back asleep on the blanket, his little paws curling. 

mark takes in the sight of you, sleepily petting your grumpy furball of a cat, the two of you curled up on the couch, and feels something tug at his heart. affection. boundless love, the kind that would raze cities and bring civilisations to ashes if needed be. he settles next to you, med kit on the coffee table, helping you shrug off your coat and catsuit.

“it’s not too deep.”

his hand brushes your shoulder, relishing the contact with your soft skin. you hum, drowsy, exhaustion catching up with you.

he patches you up, quietly, pulling you close once he’s done. he breathes you in, burying himself in your hair, taking in your flat. a little messy, books everywhere, little plants soaking up sunlight because you like your tomatoes and basil fresh. your cat, snoring lightly on the armrest. you, breathing slowing down, curling up against him with a soft little: “thanks.”

he leans back on the couch, pulling you closer, and thinks, stroking your hair.

he’s been deep in the abysses of earth and felt the tides struggle against him, trying to push back. he’s been close to its core, and felt gravity weigh him down, a feeble attempt at bringing him to his knees. he’s been in space. he’s seen supernovas burn before his eyes, stood before a black hole and watched the event horizon as it tried to pull him into its orbit, a gaping, hungry maw.

but, at the end of the day, it’s you he orbits around, the earth to your sun. 

taking the liberty to tag the the amazing ppl that left comments on my mark os: @gaiasmight @vinnyvamppp @odessa-is-my-queen @shadylilac @linkwho1 @tokoyamisstuff @sp4ceboo

[loganofthenorth]

YEEEEEESSS

Thank you!

This is why Batman is my favourite superhero!

And it makes me SO ANGRY when I see him being dumbed down to 'angy man playing dress up and beating up bad guys' cause THAT'S NOT HIM Batman's villains are complex and Batman himself is also!

I love love love LOVE the way the Batman Animated series humanizes the villains and shows how they became who they are, and how society pushes them back into old patterns.

Like Clayface

Clayface's origin story was a better lesson on the dangers of addiction than any PSA I'd ever seen

Because addiction isn't always weed in a back alley with your friends

Sometimes it's a steroid cream offered by a trusted company for your medical condition that your career now has become dependent on

But OOPS the steroid cream is killing you turns out! Yikes! Now if you don't keep paying a shit ton of money for the cream you're literally gonna disintegrate!

And BATMAN TREATS THE COMPANY THAT DID THIS TO CLAYFACE AS A CRIMINAL FAR MORE THAN HE TREATS CLAYFACE AS A CRIMINAL

Clayface is just the 'villain' of the episode because he's more interesting than the salesman that Batman rightfully beats up and he gets arrested because unfortunately business men are notorious for avoiding being arrested.

Another villain is Babydoll

I would die for her

I'd never perform on a set with her, because then dying for her might be part of the plan, but...

Anywho Babydoll's episodes spoke to me so much! They did an incredible job of showing how the infantilism of disabled people, especially those with dwarfism and similar conditions, can ruin their lives and lead to worse problems.

In her later episode she tries to turn her life around and work at a hotel. She does really good. But after being harassed over and over due to being recognized, and then someone outright tried to assault her because they felt they had the right to, she had a breakdown.

During her breakdown she saw a news coverage of a trial for another villain being ostracized for his appearance. She related to him and broke him out of prison, but ended up in an unhealthy relationship with him where he took advantage of her empathy.

I could ramble on for hours about all the Batman villains and how phenomenal the animated series is at displaying the complex realities that drive people to do terrible things but I'm starting to get tired so I'll wrap it up for now!

why does anyone in Gotham even bother doing crime like you KNOW the second you leave the bank with the money you just stole Bruce Wayne is gonna be chilling on a bench on the other side of the street in his bat fursuit like “hey bitch u better not be breaking the law”

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Can i get a bucktommy kiss nr.17 to distract, please 😘

Tommy's life used to be a lot simpler before he got tangled up with the 118 again. He'd had a few years of relative normalcy and quiet, and then Howie had called him asking to fly into a hurricane and nothing had been simple since then. He'd looked into a pair of blue eyes and his entire life had turned into one long series of complications.

For example, he used to just be able to give exes a birthday present and be done with the whole thing, but this is Evan. Evan, who takes care of everyone without expecting anything in return, who looked Tommy in the eye one day and told him he loved him and asked that he please stop running from that. Evan, who is turning 35 but trying to not make a big deal about it, because his birthday has rarely been a big deal, and so Tommy wants to throw him a surprise party.

Evan, who is home an hour early.

He meets him in the driveway with what is hopefully an apologetic smile and an excuse that he forgot to ask him to pick up some stuff at Home Depot for the gazebo they're building over the next few weeks.

"Do you want to go later?" Evan asks, and Tommy sees his eyes shift almost over his shoulder and realizes that someone might be looking through the curtains.

Thinking fast, he grabs Evan and kisses him, whirling them around so Evan's back is against the tailgate of the truck and facing away from the house. His boyfriend makes a soft noise against his mouth, and Tommy almost forgets why he's doing this in the first place. When he breaks the kiss, he feels dazed for a moment, and Evan is doing that thing where he licks his lips and tips his head down and looks at him through his lashes.

What was Tommy doing?

He sees the flick of a curtain out of the corner of his eye and remembers.

"So, definitely later?" Evan teases, his fingers curling in the space between the top buttons of Tommy's shirt.

"N-no, we should go now," Tommy says, even though he wants nothing less than to have to go out in public and pretend he doesn't want to be somewhere with Evan wrapped around him.

"You sure?" Evan asks, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip and then his chin.

Tommy is not God's strongest soldier, but there are a half dozen people in his house setting up a party. He can't ask them all to leave for a quickie. There's food in the oven, there's streamers being set up.

"Unfortunately, yes," he says, nuzzling Evan's neck and flipping off a cackling Howie in the front window of the house.

As he gets into the truck, he texts Maddie so she can take over the rest of the set-up.

Maddie

Got it! Chimney says to tell you your distraction technique sucks. I'm sure you did your best 😊

Tommy feels Evan squeeze the inside of his thigh as they back out of the driveway and sighs.

Maybe they can find a dimly lit parking garage near Home Depot. That'll keep them from the house for a while.

-

Later, when Evan looks properly surprised and looks at Tommy with a sunny smile and teary eyes, Tommy thanks Maddie profusely for taking over in his absence.

"The extra half hour you bought us really helped," she says, patting his back. "Also, you might want to put something on that rash."

He claps a hand over the stubble burn on his neck. "Is it that bad?"

"You look like you got wiped down with sandpaper," Howie adds unhelpfully. "Good trip to Home Depot? Saw that the truck bed was empty."

"They were out of wood," Tommy lies, squirming past the two smirking Hans.

"Oh, I'm sure there was plenty of wood!" Howie calls at his back, and Tommy hears the distant sound of a high five.

[thbbie]

༄ choso x f!reader

choso goes feral when hes eating you out.

a certified munch if you've ever seen one.

he's eager, it's so cute.

but choso can't help himself. not when he sees you spread out for him, not when he gets a whiff of you through your panties, not when he sees you smiling down at, not when you tug at his hair, not when you call out his name, not when -

but you've been working, for hours. tied to your desk with all that you had to get done and poor choso just wanted attention, to spend time with you, in you, to taste you, to hold you. but no. you wouldn't let him, brushing away his advances because you have other 'more important' things to get done.

he understands that he's a curse, but it can be so frustrating when his pretty (human) girlfriend gets so caught up in well, being a human. fulfilling the responsibilities you have in your human life and working to provide for your human self (and cutie pie curse boyfriend)

it isn't all bad, he loves taking care of you when you get home after a long day, he's so attentive and he knows you like that. what he cannot stand the most is when his poor darling has to work so hard while away from him and still have to work at home when she should be spending time with him.

it isn't a matter of selfishness. it's purely concern for you

and so he sets his plan in motion.

at first, he'd tried to coax you away from your desk and into bed, you could bring your computer! he just wants to be somewhere more comfortable, maybe the couch? but you quick shut him down, knowing yourself (and your loved) too well,

"no cho, i won't get anything done. we can cuddle and watch that show you started for as long as you'd like after."

plan a, resulted in failure. choso? he remains unfazed and entirely determined.

though also, at a complete loss.

so instead of sitting around twiddling his thumbs or plotting another plan doomed for failure he'll instead choose to sit on the floor next to you, resting his head in your lap. you give him a once over with a suspicious look in your eye, your tone warning, "choso."

"i know, i know" he says sadly, eyes down cast and fiddling with the material of your shorts, "your busy, i'll wait for you but i just wanna be near you baby. is that okay?"

his dark eyes look up at you sadly, so sincerely, oh how could you say no to something so sweet. you'll allow it.

you type away at your computer, stopping when your reading something l, revising your notes, every once in a while your hands would come down to card through his dark hair, stretching at his scalp while he purrs in your lap, fingers pausing their fidgeting. his hands dig into your soft thighs at the feeling of your nails on his skin, the action remains the same though the circumstances are different; the effect remains unchanged as well.

an uncomfortable stir in his pants, they get tighter and tighter as does the grip he has on your thigh, lost in his own world up until you yelp out at the pain of his grip. and oh as guilty as he feels for hurting you, that only encourages him. you sound so pretty, he needs more.

"mm sorry baby." he says when you shot him a glare, releasing your thigh from his strong grip, faint red marks left behind. he soothes them by running his hand over the skin gently, missing the feeling of your hand in his hair, of you in his mouth-

he peaks up at you again, almost shyly as if there isn't filth running rampant in his mind. his nimble fingers moving to play with them hem of your shorts, checking to see if you'll notice. when you don't, he slips them beneath the soft fabric, feeling the smooth expanse of your delicate skin.

choso moves from sitting next to you to sit between your thighs, shuffling around trying to get comfortable in the small space. his face is so close to your core under the cramped space of your desk, he can smell you. the dewy wetness of your prefect pussy. how long have you been keeping it from him?

he inches closer and closer to you, nose pressed against your core, obscured only by the thin layers of you panties and shorts. are you even wearing panties? his nose presses deeper into your softness trying to figure it out for himself. his conclusion? you were not.

what a teasing thing you are.

wet and sitting pretty without any panties . tutut.

choso pulls away, just barely, as he shifts around from between your legs, repositioning himself to get comfortable when he's yanked back by your hands in his hair. the hold you have on him is tight, stinging. just the way he likes it.

he'd almost forgotten the rest of you was there, so entranced by your cunt; the only part of his busy girl that would give him a lick of attention.

he speaks something against you but you don't hear it, muffled by your shorts and core. "mhmhhjm~" his words muffled by you as your thighs come over his shoulders, effectively caging him in .

choso knows what you want, and for a brief moment he contemplates punishing you, but ultimately decides against it. he's hungry, your punishment can wait. choso isn't selfish about anything in the world but your cunt.

he licks a broad strip, your wetness doing well in soaking through the flimsy shorts, but he spits on the mess before diving in, just for good measure.

he takes on of your hands in his own, holding you to keep himself grounded, to let you know he loves you. his other one busy gripping and groping your flesh, all that he can get his hands on. your just too pretty. they run over your belly and your thighs, your hips and your breasts, your arms and your calves. all of you.

he's everywhere. everywhere but directly where you need him.

he licked and prodded at your hole through the thin drenched fabric, easily finding you clit despite the dividing barrier and he sucks at it fervently.

"cho.. hah cho, please, i-i , mmm oh~ ineed, i need you baby."

your just so good. you taste so good. you feel so good. he feels light headed. you lean back in your chair to get a look at him, and oh the view. it's one you want tattooed and burned in your mind.

his thin brows pulled together desperately, nose deep in you with his eyes glossy and watching your body as it convulses and twitches from pleasure. smooth pale cheeks flushed red, his ears and neck too. he looks like he's the one being eaten.

when he catches your gaze he pulls away for a moment, revealing the bottom half of his face. completely slicked in you. covered in your essence, doing his best to lick it all, not wanting a single drop to waste away. you think you could cum at the sight.

over come with the need, choso pushes your chair out, so he can slip through and kiss you. it's messy an lewd and you can taste yourself on him. both of you panting into each others mouths, you own face not streaked with the mess he has on his.

choso grinds into you while he's away from four pussy, his hands at the side of your face and eyes closing desperately in the kiss. he holds you so tenderly, all his love and need spilling into it. from his eyes too. choso cries, into the kiss, warm salty tears slipping from his check and landing on yours.

he breaks the kiss, stilling his hips and just holds you for a moment; looking deep into your eyes. it's a lot, it's vulnerable and raw and that's choso. still panting, unable to catch his breathe, chasing it is fruitless so he says what he needs to without it, "i-i, hah h, i love you. i love you [name]. you're, hh~ the only thing i could ever, hahh, love."

he plants a small peck to your lips, short and innocent, because in the midst of you ravenous need for one another, in the midst of all the lust and longing for you, he still loves you sweet and tender. he holds your dazed gaze for a moment, as if to ensure his words have reached your feverish blissed out brain, and without another word, without waiting for your response, he dips back under your desk to breathe you in like it's the only air he wants to breathe. to lick and suck away at you through your shorts like it's the only drink he ever wants.

choso is insatiable when it comes to you,

successfuly bring you to that sweet high more times than you can count, ripping one after the other from you. sweet cries of his name spill form you like a fountain as he makes love to your pussy. he gives you breaks when your voice starts to break, kissing around the tender covered flesh, the delicate skin that peaks out of your shorts, teasing him, leaving behind markings of teeth and tongue.

and choso is in love with you, his hand never letting go of your own, intertwined together so deeply. but it's not only your hands or your bodies, his heart and his soul are tied to you. his mind and all that makes him himself. it is yours.

[obfuscateyummy]

18+ MDNI. Plot - smut - aftercare - plot. That's it. That's the story. I am not very good at warnings so I apologize. Lots of cursing. I need Michael Robinavitch to talk to me like this in the bedroom. Praise. Dirtyish talk. Face riding. P in V - female on top. P in V - male on top. Uh i think that's it? This is also the night the twins were conceived

It was the most agonizing 15 hours of your life. Nothing in your medical training prepares you for dealing with the aftermath of a mass shooting in an emergency room. Nothing prepares you for seeing the kid who’s like a son to your husband coming into the emergency room, holding his girlfriend’s chest, trying to apply pressure as she bled out. Your husband tried to save her. She was gone. Jake blamed him. He was a kid, he was grieving. Not to mention the 18-year-old kid who overdosed on fentanyl and the girl who drowned in the pool. It was a tough shift. You just wanted to go home, with your husband, and forget today ever happened.

You cleared your throat as you broke the silence between you two. “I’m glad my mom could keep Lucy tonight,” you said as you walked past Lucy’s daycare. “She’d be a nightmare if we were just getting her.”

Michael didn’t speak, he just nodded. The two of you walked in silence for what felt like forever. 

“Jesus, fuck!” Michael said, breaking the silence. “I can not wait to be home. I just want you, a shower, and our bed,” your husband said as he looked at you.

“I just want you,” you said looking up at him, smirking.

The two of you stopped in front of your house. “Oh, sweetheart, you can have me,” he said as he kissed you.

“Take me inside, first,” you said. 

“Just inside?” Michael said as he wiggled his eyebrows and headed up to your front door. He fidgeted with his keys until he got the right one in the knob. After he got the door unlocked, the two of you walked in, set our backpacks down, and kicked off your shoes. Then, he turned around to face you.

You wasted no time, as your hands went to wrap around his neck, and your lips crashed with his. Michael cupped your ass, as you hiked your legs around him. 

“Fuck, you’re so eager,” Michael said as he laid sloppy, wet kisses on your neck.

“I just want you to fuck me until I forget today happened.”

“Well, I want to fuck you until I forget today happened,” Michael said as he set you down when you reached the bedroom. He was quick to remove your scrub top as you unzipped his hoodie and shoved it off his shoulders. He took his arms out of the hoodie and worked on removing your bra, setting your tits free right in front of him. He cupped them with his hands. You went back to kissing him, tugging at his shirt. He pulled away just long enough to remove his shirt. His hands went to your hips, pulling down your scrub bottoms and panties. You stepped out of your bottoms, leaving you naked in front of him.

Michael let out a growl as he took all you in. “You look like a fucking goddess,” he said. “I need to taste you.”

“Let me ride your face,” you said.

Michael’s eyes went dark with lust “Yes, please,” he said in a growl, as he laid on your bed.

You straddled over his face. He kissed up your upper thigh. He bit your left inner thigh. “Mine,” he said as he bit. He noticed the wetness coating your pussy. “You’re fucking soaked.”

“Only for you,” you said as you giggled, sinking closer to his face. Michael licked your lower lips and his nose brushed against your clit, sending shockwaves through you. “Michael,” you moaned, trying to stay quiet.

Michael smirked against your core. “You don’t have to be quiet, sweetheart.” He placed one had on your hip, and the other against your core. He inserted one finger in your pussy as he continued to suck your clitours. He soon inserted a second finger. The way Michael’s beard felt against your thighs, along with the stimulation around your center was sending waves through your body.

“So fucking close,” you said as you looked down at Michael. You tugged at his hair a bit. Michael kept his mouth on your core, as the first orgasm of the night hit you while you screamed Michael’s name. 

Michael’s grip on your hips tightened as he continued sucking your core through your climax. “Jesus fucking Christ. You always taste so sweet, sweetheart,” he said against your center. His beard and breath sent vibrations through your body. Michael lifted you off his face, and set you on his stomach. He stared at you. His eyes were dark with lust. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He reached up to cup your breasts. “How did I get so fucking lucky?”

Your cheeks turned red as you spoke, “I think I’m the lucky one. I love you, Michael.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Michael said as you bent down to kiss him. You began to move your body lower, feeling his cock straining against his cargo pants. 

“Let me ride you,” you said, kissing Michael’s neck. Just enough to not leave bruises. 

“Fuck, please,” Michael said as he reached between the two of you to undo his pants. His fingers brushed against your still wet pussy. You pulled yourself off just enough for him to push his pants and boxers off in one swift motion. His hard, thick, veiny cock springing free. You began to sink down on him, slowly, as you took all of him in you. You whined as you sank down.

“Love the feeling of me stretching you out?” He asked, with a cocky smirk.

“Yes,” you said as you moaned, “I love how you stretch me, baby.” You started to move up and down on his cock. He met each move with a thrust up into you. 

Michael took his hands and began fondling your tits as they bounced while you rode him. He took one nipple between two fingers, and pinched it just enough to send shivers through your body. 

“Michael,” his name rolled off your tongue like a whimper. 

“Hmmmm. Make that sound again,” Michael said as he did the same thing to the other nipple.

“Jesus Christ, Michael,” you practically screamed. 

Michael chuckled. “I love the noises you make for me.”

“Feels so good,” you said as you put both your hands on Michael’s chest to help you change the angle in which the two of you were fucking. 

“You feel so good baby, taking me so well. You’re such a good girl for me,” Michael said. Your pussy started to clench around his cock, causing Michael to let out a loud moan. “You like when I call you a good girl?” Michael said with a smug look on his face as he pulled your hair to bring your face down to him. He took his hand and placed it behind your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. He could feel you tightening around his cock, and started thrusting up into you harder.

You moaned his name and added a curse, “Yes. Michael, fuck.”

“You’re so close, I can feel it,” Michael said as he put his hand between the two of you and drew circles around your clit.

“Don’t stop. Please Michael,” you cried out.

Michael moved the hand behind your neck to your back. “I got you, y/n, cum for me baby.”

You whimpered and moaned as your second orgasm of the night shook through your body. Michael kept his rough pace and continued to fuck you through your orgasm. You started to collapse on his chest during the aftershock. He removed his hand from your center and placed it on your back as he flipped the two of you.

“Fuck,” you screamed, in the sudden shock in position.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s exactly what I plan on doing,” Michael said as he set a rough pace. Michael began to place wet, sloppy kisses everywhere on your body.

You let out a moan and threw your head back as he fucked you into the mattress. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Michael said. He went back to placing the sloppy kisses over your upper body, “I love..watching you…come undone…underneath me….fuck you feel so good.”

“Fuck, yes, Michael,” you panted as you kept your head thrown back. Your pussy started to squeeze Michael’s cock in all the right places. You were both close to your climaxes.

“You take me so well, such a good girl for me,” Michael said as he grunted. His thrusts were completely erratic. 

You wrapped your legs around Michael’s hips. “Please, Michael,”

Michael’s hand found your clit for the third time that night, to bring you over the edge for a third time. His touch was all you need, as you came for a third time that night with a scream of his name. Michael followed you as he screamed your name. His hot, sticky cum shooting inside you, coating your insides. Michael stilled inside of you before he pulled off and rolled off of you. “Jesus fucking Christ, that was amazing," you said as you looked over at your husband.

Michael smirked as he spoke, “You’re the amazing one, baby.” He kissed you. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Michael.” you said.

“Let me go get a towel and clean you up. Then, we can get some sleep,” Michael said as he kissed your forehead. He stood to walk into the bathroom to get a towel. He got it a little wet and cleaned you up. He walked the towel back into the bathroom. “You need anything else, baby?” Michael asked.

You shook your head, “No, but I should probably pee,” you said as you got out of bed. You limped a little from being sore from the euphoria your body just experienced. When you returned to the bedroom, you grabbed one of Michael's t-shirts and slipped it on. You got back into bed and cuddled next to him, putting your head under his chin and your face into his chest. He began to run his hands through your hair. Tears you didn’t know you were holding in fell down your face.

“Hey, baby? You okay?” Michael asked. 

You nodded as you looked up. “Yeah, today was just-” you stopped and shook your head, “No, not tonight.”

Michael nodded. “Not tonight.” He kissed your forehead. “You know, you and Lucy are the best thing to ever happen to me, right?”

“You two are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too,” you said as you began to fall asleep.

“We both have 4 days off next week, let’s get out of here. Just the three of us, whatcha say?” Michael asked.

“Sounds amazing,” you said, as your eyes fluttered shut.

Michael kissed your forehead one last time before you drifted off to sleep. He watched you until his own eyelids went heavy and he fell asleep.

[bu3ck3r]

back in your arms

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: p surprises a in storrs

a/n: thank u anon for this request i had fun writing it. also lmk if there’s any mistakes. enjoyyy

azzi stood near the free-throw line, drenched in sweat, hair tied up in a messy bun, trying to focus. afternoon light poured through the high windows, catching on the glow of her skin. she launched another shot—net. another—miss. another—net. she didn’t even care about her percentage anymore. she just needed to distract herself.

her phone had been sitting on the floor for the past three hours, still no response from paige.

one day. that’s all it had been. twenty-four hours since paige last texted her, but azzi felt like she was unraveling.

paige never went a whole day without replying. not even during her busiest days in the wnba. they always found time, even if it was at 1 a.m. “i love you” voice notes or a 30-second facetime just to say goodnight.

so where the hell was she?

azzi gasped and grabbed her water bottle, chugging half of it before checking her phone again. still nothing. her heart was punching at her ribs with that all too familiar fear. was she okay? was something wrong?

she shot another three-pointer. missed.

“damn it,” she muttered.

she didn’t hear the door open.

meanwhile, near the campus, a car pulled into the parking lot behind the gym. paige leaned forward in the passenger seat, pulling her hood lower over her forehead.

“you are so dramatic,” said caroline from the driver’s seat, trying not to laugh.

“i told you i wanted this to be a surprise. she probably thinks i ghosted her,” paige said, her mouth twisting with guilt.

“i swear if you get mobbed before you even make it into the gym, i’m leaving your ass here.”

“you’re a terrible friend.”

“i’m the best friend. now go before she actually breaks up with you.”

paige grinned and hopped out, sneaking through the entrance like she used to.

her stomach was fluttering. she hadn’t seen azzi in three weeks.

and now, paige was here.

she opened the gym door quietly, slipping in through the shadows. her heart instantly bounced.

there she was.

azzi.

mid free-throw, breathing hard, focus written across her face. she looked tired. she looked pissed. she looked beautiful.

paige stood there for a moment and watched. she could’ve watched forever.

then azzi turned—and froze.

the ball slipped from her fingers. it bounced away, rolling toward the sideline. her eyes went wide.

“paige?” she whispered.

and then she ran and launched herself at paige so fast she barely had time to open her arms. their bodies collided, hard, azzi wrapping her legs around paige’s waist, arms around her neck. her face buried in paige’s shoulder, paige stumbled back with a laugh, holding her tight.

“damn,” paige breathed. “you missed me that much?”

azzi didn’t respond at first—just kissed her, hard. it wasn’t gentle or slow. it was all lips and heat and the bite of longing. her hands curled into paige’s hair, pulling her in closer. paige’s fingers dug into azzi’s waist, grounding them both. when they finally broke apart, azzi glared at her.

“you didn’t respond to me for a whole day,” she said, accusing.

“i know,” paige said, nuzzling her nose into azzi’s cheek. “because i was flying to you.”

“you suck.”

“you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

paige grinned. “caroline picked me up. she thinks you’re gonna kill me.”

“i might.”

“you were one more missed text away from a breakdown, huh?”

azzi lightly smacked her chest. “shut up.”

paige kissed her again. “i missed you too, baby.”

they didn’t even notice that someone had walked in until ice’s voice rang through the gym.

“okay, what is going on here?”

azzi whipped her head around, still clinging to paige, as ice and kk walked in.

paige barely managed to catch azzi’s legs and set her down.

kk stared for a beat. “wait is that p boogers?”

“surprise,” paige said with a smirk, arms still around azzi’s waist.

ice nearly dropped her water bottle. “what?!”

they both ran over, crowding paige with hugs and disbelief.

“you didn’t tell anyone?!” ice said.

“caroline knew,” paige replied.

azzi grumbled, tugging paige back to her. “okay, okay. y’all got your hugs. she’s mine. back off.”

“god, you two are so gay,” ice said, sipping her drink. “can y’all not touch each other for one second, like damn.”

“nope,” paige and azzi said in unison.

kk snorted. “insufferable.”

but they were all smiling.

later, as they walked back to the dorms together, paige held azzi’s hand tightly. the sun was dipping low, casting gold across the trees. azzi hadn’t let go of her since the gym. she kept brushing their arms together like she couldn’t believe paige was real.

paige leaned in and whispered, “so… how mad were you?”

azzi narrowed her eyes. “i was this close to calling your teammates.”

paige laughed. “would’ve been worth it.”

“only because i didn’t actually.”

“mmm i like when you’re clingy.”

azzi rolled her eyes. “oh please, you’re the one who flew here.”

paige stopped her and pulled her close.

“yeah. because i couldn’t go another day without you.”

she kissed her again, soft and lingering, right there in the path. azzi melted into her, arms around her neck. they stood there for a long moment, caught in a world only they understood.

azzi whispered against her lips, “don’t disappear on me again.”

“i won’t,” paige said. “i promise.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the dorm was unusually quiet, but as paige and azzi stepped through the doors—still holding hands—there was an immediate shift in the air.

from around the corner, jana appeared, holding a bowl of cereal.

she blinked once. “wait, is that?”

before she could finish, ice and kk came walking down the hallway, still buzzing from the surprise.

“paige bueckers is in the buildingg,” ice announced to literally no one and everyone.

a door slammed. sarah’s voice floated down, “what?”

paige squeezed azzi’s hand tighter.

“oh my god,” jana muttered, mouth full of cereal.

azzi immediately stepped closer to paige, hand drifting from paige’s fingers to her waist, like claiming territory. “okay, okay,” she said coolly. “calm down.”

“i cant believe you’re here.” kk shouted.

“surprise,” paige said again, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“i literally cried last time you left.” jana threw her arms around paige dramatically. “welcome home, p.”

paige hugged her back, laughing. “missed you too.”

“alright,” azzi said, gently pulling paige back into her arms. “y’all got your moment. she’s with me now.”

“relax,” ice said. “no one’s gonna steal your girl.”

azzi didn’t let go.

kk raised an eyebrow. “damn, girl, we just want to say hi. you’re gripping her like she’s gonna vanish.”

paige turned to azzi, teasing: “i kinda like this new possessive you.”

“you’re never leaving again,” azzi mumbled, face tucked into her shoulder.

the girls all let out exaggerated groans.

“you two make me feel so single.” ice muttered, grabbing her cereal from jana.

“y’all are just mad we’re in love,” paige called after them.

“more like allergic to pda,” kk said. “bro can y’all not touch each other for a minute?”

paige grinned. “absolutely not.”

azzi looked at her with a smile.

they finally made it to azzi’s room—after paige was forced into one more group hug—and shut the door behind them.

the second it clicked closed, paige turned around and leaned against it.

“god, i missed this room,” she said. “smells like you.”

azzi raised an eyebrow. “you missed me.”

“well obviously,” paige said, reaching for her.

azzi practically tackled her onto the bed.

they landed in a mess of limbs and soft sheets. azzi hovered over her, arms braced on either side of paige’s shoulders. she looked down at her for a long moment, her expression softening. paige reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from azzi’s cheek.

“you really scared me today,” azzi said quietly.

“i know,” paige whispered. “i’m sorry.”

azzi leaned down, forehead to forehead. “i thought something was wrong.”

“i just… i wanted to see your face when i showed up. i needed that reaction.”

“you needed me to almost lose my mind?”

paige grinned. “i was right though, huh?”

azzi sighed and kissed her. “shut up.”

their lips met again—slower now, deeper. the tension of the day began to melt into something warmer, needier. azzi’s body pressed flush against paige’s, hands roaming beneath the hem of her hoodie.

paige slid her hands beneath azzi’s tank top, thumbs tracing the soft skin of her waist. “been dreaming about this for days.”

azzi’s lips were hot against her neck now, teeth grazing lightly. “same.”

clothes started disappearing in quiet layers—hoodie tossed, shorts slipped off, tank tops lost between kisses. the room filled with the quiet hum of breathing, the creak of the mattress, the sound of two people desperate to feel every inch of each other after weeks apart.

paige took her time, lips and fingertips memorizing the curves she already knew by heart. azzi whispered her name like it was sacred.

after they finished, they stayed tangled together under the sheets, sweat cooling, hearts still thudding.

paige brushed azzi’s hair back and kissed her forehead.

“that was…”

“amazing,” azzi mumbled, lips against her collarbone.

“you trying to make me never leave?”

“is it working?”

paige laughed softly. “god, yes.”

an hour later, paige was half asleep when she heard it:

knock. knock. knock.

then ice’s voice from outside the door: “can y’all please be quiet next time? we could hear y’all loud and clear.”

kk added from the hallway: “i am so done with y’all.”

paige muffled her face into azzi’s shoulder, laughing.

“we weren’t that loud,” azzi protested weakly.

“baby i’m pretty sure you screamed my name. twice,” paige whispered.

azzi hit her with a pillow.

paige kissed her cheek. “i love when you yell.”

“oh my god stop.” azzi rolled her eyes, but she was blushing hard.

eventually, they got dressed again—barely—and cracked the door open. sure enough, kk and ice were on the couch playing fortnite, pretending they hadn’t just roasted them through a closed door.

“we’re getting food,” paige said. “y’all hungry?”

ice didn’t even look up. “starving.”

“but you two need to chill.”

paige smirked. “can’t promise that.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the night air was warm, the breeze filtering through the open windows of azzi’s car. paige was driving. obviously.

they were barely two minutes into the drive when paige’s hand found azzi’s thigh.

“really?” azzi murmured, glancing over with a raised brow, though she made no move to stop her. she even shifted slightly so paige’s hand could rest higher.

“i need my hand to stay somewhere calm,” paige said, eyes still on the road. “and your thigh is the softest thing i’ve touched in three weeks.”

from the back seat, kk groaned. “you two are disgusting.”

“bruh i did not miss this at all.” ice added, head tilted dramatically against the headrest.

azzi reached over and turned the volume up a little just to drown them out. “we’re being normal,” she said, smirking.

paige nodded. “it’s just a hand on a high.”

“if you two start making out at a stoplight, i’m walking home.” kk muttered.

paige flashed a grin in the rearview mirror. “no promises.”

“i’ll throw myself out the window,” ice said flatly. “i mean it.”

ice and kk ordered enough food for a football team. azzi and paige split fries, giggling like middle schoolers over how long the mozzarella sticks took.

azzi kept brushing her foot against paige’s under the table. paige kept whispering things in her ear that made her blush.

at one point, kk leaned back with her chocolate milkshake. “so, when are you two getting married?”

azzi nearly choked. paige just smirked. “you wanna be the flower girl?”

“i’ll be the priest if it gets y’all to chill out,” ice deadpanned.

they ended the night back in the car, food wrappers rustling, laughter trailing off as paige drove them through sleepy storrs roads.

back in the dorm, ice and kk peeled off toward the common room with a final warning:

“if we hear anything again tonight,” ice called out, “we’re starting a gofundme.”

“we finna put y’all down for a noise complaint for real,” kk added. “good night.”

azzi rolled her eyes, dragging paige toward her room again. “they love us.”

“they hate us,” paige replied, laughing.

azzi closed the bathroom door behind them, locking it out of habit. the warm light made the tiles glow softly. paige sat on the edge of the sink, tugging off her socks while azzi reached into the shower and turned on the water. steam rose slowly.

“i don’t even care that we’ve only been apart for three weeks,” paige said, standing to lift her shirt over her head. “it felt like a year.”

azzi glanced at her over her shoulder, smiling. “it really did.”

soon enough they stepped into the shower together. paige immediately pulled azzi close under the stream, hands sliding down her back, lips pressing to her temple. azzi looped her arms around paige’s neck and rested her head on her shoulder.

“i’ve missed this,” azzi said quietly.

“same.”

they stayed like that for a while—just holding each other, letting the heat soak into their skin.

then, inevitably, hands started wandering. paige’s mouth drifted down azzi’s jaw and azzi arched into her with a quiet gasp, fingers tangling in her wet blonde hair.

there was nothing rushed about it. it was slow. intimate. needed.

after the shower they were wrapped in fresh towels and oversized shirts, as they got ready for bed together—brushing teeth side by side at the sink, laughing as azzi sprayed way too much detangler in paige’s hair.

they climbed into bed with legs tangled, the fan humming above them. paige was on her back, azzi sprawled half across her, head on her chest.

paige’s fingers played lazily with the hem of azzi’s l shirt. “i really wish i could stay longer.”

“you have like… three days off, right?”

“yeah. but i already wanna freeze time.”

azzi looked up at her, eyes a little misty. “i miss you every day.”

paige kissed her gently. “you have no idea how proud of you i am.”

“same,” azzi whispered. “every time i see highlights of you, i scream. like. out loud. in the gym.”

“i know,” paige smirked. “caroline told me.”

azzi blushed, hiding her face. “traitor.”

“you’re gonna be there soon,” paige said softly. “wnba. i can’t wait to watch you drop 30 on everyone.”

azzi traced little circles on paige’s stomach. “you’ll be in the front row, right?”

“always.”

they kissed again—slow and warm, no urgency this time. just love.

and when they finally curled up under the blanket, azzi whispered into paige’s neck: “don’t leave until you absolutely have to.”

“i won’t.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the morning sunlight spilled into azzi’s room like it owned the place. paige groaned and rolled deeper under the sheets, burying her face in azzi’s neck.

“get up, sleepyhead,” azzi murmured, brushing her fingers through paige’s messy hair.

“no,” paige mumbled. “i’m retired.”

“you literally played a game last week.”

“exactly. let me live.”

azzi kissed her cheek. “i have practice baby.”

paige pulled her closer. “cancel it.”

azzi laughed. “you want me to get benched?”

paige shrugged. “then i’ll get benched too. solidarity.”

“you don’t even play for uconn anymore.”

“minor detail.”

azzi was in the gym with a few teammates running drills. her jumper was smooth as ever, but something in her posture said her mind was somewhere else—every glance toward the door, every pause between sets.

then the door creaked open.

“nice form,” paige called out, leaning casually against the wall in a uconn tee that showed off her muscles just right.

azzi froze. so did everyone else.

ice dropped the ball she was holding. “oh no.”

kk clapped dramatically. “here we go again.”

azzi jogged over to paige like she hadn’t already seen her all night and morning, like her body just moved on instinct. the moment she was close enough, she threw her arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth—right there in front of the team.

“wow,” jana muttered.

“you miss me that much?” paige teased when they broke apart, brushing her thumb over azzi’s cheek.

azzi grinned. “shut up. you’re the one who showed up looking like that.”

kk groaned. “i can’t be here.”

sarah pointed at the door. “take it to a room. this is a training facility.”

“you’re just mad we’re cute,” azzi called over her shoulder as she tugged paige toward the bleachers.

“i’m mad y’all are making me miss my girl,” kk shouted back.

later that night, paige and azzi were back in her room, sprawled out on the bed again, hair still damp from another steamy shower they’d taken “to cool down,” which was a lie and everyone knew it.

paige reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded t-shirt.

azzi’s eyes widened. “is that…?”

“my dallas warmup shirt,” paige said, handing it over. “figured you should have one. smells like me. you’re welcome.”

azzi held it to her chest. “i’m never taking this off.”

“please do, eventually,” paige said. “or you’ll smell like an actual locker room.”

azzi threw a pillow at her. “you’re so annoying.”

“you love it.”

“i do,” she admitted, smiling softly.

just before lights out, they wandered into the kitchen to grab snacks.

ice was sprawled on the couch with kk, both of them locked into a chaotic fortnite match. the second they spotted paige and azzi, they both screamed in unison:

“get a room!”

paige blinked. “we have a room.”

“y’all just came out of it,” kk said, tossing her controller down. “and now you’re back like nothing happened.”

“you two need supervision,” ice added.

“we’re literally just getting snacks,” azzi said, grabbing a bag of popcorn.

“y’all get snacks like you’re in a movie scene,” kk complained. “too much eye contact and way too much touching.”

paige slid an arm around azzi’s waist. “we’re just affectionate.”

“you’re menace-level affectionate,” ice muttered.

azzi just kissed paige’s cheek. “jealousy is a disease.”

kk gagged audibly.

back in azzi’s room, they climbed under the covers, the popcorn bowl between them, a movie playing softly in the background.

azzi wore paige’s dallas shirt. it hung down her thighs, barely covering her. paige stared for way too long.

“eyes up here.”

“you got it princess.”

they fed each other popcorn until paige started licking the butter off of azzi’s fingers, making her laugh.

azzi tackled her and they rolled around laughing until paige pinned her with a playful smirk.

“you’re so whipped,” paige teased.

“me?” azzi raised an eyebrow. “you flew across the country.”

“i came here for basketball,” paige joked.

azzi leaned down and kissed her, long and slow. “liar.”

paige smiled into the kiss. “you caught me.”

the next evening came too fast.

azzi lay on her back in bed, hair still damp from the shower they’d just taken together, paige resting beside her in nothing but an old uconn shirt and soft cotton shorts.

their skin still buzzed — from the warmth of the water, from each other.

they’d barely kept their hands to themselves while in the bathroom.

paige had been behind azzi the entire time — arms around her waist while they brushed their teeth, kissing her shoulder between swipes of the toothbrush, murmuring, “you’re so damn pretty,” through a mouth full of toothpaste.

azzi had almost spit hers out from laughing.

now, back in bed, it was quiet. paige’s hand was resting on azzi’s stomach, her fingers idly tracing small circles on her skin. her legs tangled with azzi’s under the blankets.

“you smell like my shampoo,” azzi whispered.

paige smiled. “you smell like heaven.”

“you’re such a cornball.”

“and yet, here you are,” paige murmured, nuzzling closer. “loving every second of it.”

azzi reached up and ran her fingers through paige’s slightly damp hair. “i really do.”

they kissed again — soft, slow, and lingering. like neither of them wanted it to end.

paige rolled onto her side, propping herself on one elbow so she could look down at azzi. her eyes were serious, warm.

“you know i think about you all the time when i’m in dallas, right?”

azzi nodded. “same. every single day.”

“i hate being away from you.”

“me too. but i think it’s also… making us stronger.”

paige smiled. “yeah. it’s like… no matter where we are, we’re still us.”

azzi leaned up and kissed her chin. “we’ll be together full-time soon.”

“i know.” paige gently tucked a strand of hair behind azzi’s ear. “when you get to the league… i hope we’re on the same team.”

“if not, i’m guarding you every time,” azzi smirked. “and i’m locking you up.”

paige laughed. “you wish. you’d foul out in the first half.”

“you’d fall in love again mid-game and lose focus.”

“unfair tactic,” paige grinned. “using my heart against me.”

azzi leaned up and kissed her deeply, then whispered, “you’re mine. always.”

paige kissed her again, slower this time, hands on azzi’s hips, holding her like she was everything.

because she was.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the next morning, the sun wasn’t even up yet. paige had to head back to dallas.

azzi stood in the hallway, wearing one of paige’s hoodies, watching as paige zipped up her bag.

“i should sabotage your flight,” azzi said, arms crossed, pretending to pout.

“don’t tempt me to miss it.”

they stood at the door for too long. hugging. kissing. whispering promises they’d already made a dozen times over.

“i love you,” azzi said into paige’s neck.

“i love you more,” paige said, pulling back and brushing their noses together. “don’t argue. i win.”

azzi narrowed her eyes. “fine. but only this time.”

caroline arrived to drive paige to the airport, honking once from outside the dorm.

paige opened the door, bag slung over her shoulder, azzi clinging to her hand like it might be the last time.

ice and kk were on the couch — again.

as soon as they saw the two lovebirds in the doorway, they both said:

“thank god, we can finally have peace again.”

azzi flipped them off, still clinging to paige.

ice pointed to the hallway. “now kiss and go.”

paige turned to azzi and, right in front of everyone, kissed her like she meant it — like she always did.

azzi was breathless when they broke apart.

“be safe,” she whispered.

“you too. text me the second you get out of practice.”

azzi smiled, tears welling up. “i love you.”

paige cupped her face. “i’ll see you soon, okay?”

azzi nodded. “okay.”

azzi was still in bed, paige’s hoodie swallowed around her like a second skin. the sheets smelled like her. the silence was heavier now, like the room knew it was missing someone.

her phone buzzed.

she didn’t expect anything—paige hadn’t texted since she left—but when she opened it and saw the name, her heart caught in her throat.

leaving sucks. i hate every part of it. packing, airports, this stupid seat that isn’t next to you. but i just wanted you to know that i’m still carrying the way you looked at me this morning. i’m still hearing your laugh in my head. i still feel your hands on me, like they left a print only i can see. i left my heart in your bed. wrapped in your sheets. wrapped in you. so yeah, i’ll be back soon. because i don’t feel like me when i’m not with you. i love you, az.

azzi read it once, then again, slower. the ache in her chest swelled until it pushed tears from her eyes—quiet, stubborn ones she wiped away with the cuff of paige’s sleeve.

she buried her face in the hoodie and whispered into the cotton:

“i’m not me without you either.”

she didn’t cry.

much.

after a minute she decided to reply.

you’re the worst for making me cry this early. i miss you so much it physically hurts. the bed’s too cold. the room’s too quiet. i keep rolling over expecting to find you there. you really did leave your heart here. and i’m holding onto it like it’s mine, because it is. so don’t take too long, okay? i need your laugh in this room again. i need your hands, your voice, your everything. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything. come back to me soon. i love you, p.

paige stared at azzi’s message, she hadn’t expected a reply so fast—definitely not one that hit her this hard.

her chest tightened.

she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to fight the sting in her eyes. it didn’t work.

she read it again. and again.

then, quietly, she smiled to herself.

she pulled her hoodie tighter, still faintly smelling like azzi, and typed with thumbs that shook a little more than she’d ever admit:

i’m coming back the second i can. im yours, az. always. i don’t know how i got this lucky, but i’m not letting you go. i love you. so damn much.

she locked her phone, leaned her head against the window, and whispered, barely loud enough to hear herself:

“im gonna marry her one day.”

[dantes-jacket]

My Angel

Dante x fem angel reader

Author notes: ahhh this is my first request ever so I’m a bit nervous. But I saw this and got so excited. Angel reader who looks a bit like Columbina from genshin, mentions of being experimented on, Dante is so sweet in this. I kinda also wanna make more parts to this

Dante is walking around some back woods to find this demon the person frantically called to tell him about. The demon apparently was big and scary. What a description, how is he suppose to find this thing if he doesn’t even have a clue on what it looks like? He really has to start setting some ground rules for this job.

He keeps walking for a little bit longer until he feels like he’s just been going in a circle. He’s about to give up until he hears a scream in the distance. Dante then takes off in the direction of where the scream came from. He knows he’s getting closer by hearing the cracking of branches and trees.

Dante sees the demon trying to go after something. He takes a look at it though, it’s not big nor scary. Oh well he has a job to do. He quickly grabs rebellion and dashes towards the demon. He uses a stump of a tree to jump off of to get himself higher into the air.

Once he’s above the demon, he pierces it in the neck with his sword and drags it down its back. The demon screams in agony and falls to its side as it dies.

Dante lands on the ground then laughs, man that was easy. But so not worth the hours he’s been out here. He turns his head to see you sitting on the ground with your back pressed against a tree. Ah so you must have been the one that screamed.

Dante walks over to you and you try to back up more and frantically wave your arms around, “Please don’t kill me!”

He freezes at your fear. He gets why you’re so nervous. It doesn’t help that he just killed the demon and is now still walking around with rebellion in his hand. He’s quick to throw it on his back and slowly walk over to you with his hands in the air.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help you get out of here safe okay? Let me get you back home.”

He reached out a hand to you and you hesitantly take it. His hands are calloused and rough but they feel so warm. It’s comforting to you.

Dante helps you up and that’s when he gets a good look at you. You have these white strips on your face that cover around your eyes, he questions to himself if those are bandages. He then sees wing behind you. They’re not super big but they aren’t exactly small either. You’ve obviously been out here for a while since your pretty white wings are now brown and muddy.

You also had very long hair that look silky. You then made eye contact with him and he is captivate by your eyes. They are so beautiful. It’s like you have gems for eyes. He finally notes you have a long white dress that flows in the wind. He also realizes that you are smaller than him. But that’s normal, he is super tall and buff after all that’s what being half demon does to a man.

Dante thinks you’re beautiful though. So he questions how you got out here.

You’re intimated by the man in front of you. He has suddenly gone quiet and is staring you down. You’re use to the looks at this point and are ready to hear all the judgmental things he’s probably going to say. It’s not like you haven’t heard them before.

But you can’t help but stare at him. He is very tall and muscular. You’ve never seen a man built like this before. He looks so handsome. His beautiful long white hair and those gorgeous blue eyes, you really don’t want to take your eyes off of him.

But his staring is getting a bit intense, “Um so…”

Dante snaps out of his staring. Damn he must look like a creep, “Oh sorry. I’ve never seen an angel before.”

You look away from him after his confession, “I get that a lot.”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

You snap your head back to look at the white haired man in front of you. Did he really just say that? “What did you say?” You ask him wanting to double check to make sure you heard him right.

“I said I think you’re beautiful.”

You blink owlishly at him, “You think so?”

Now Dante looks confused, “Yeah, wouldn’t everyone?”

You shake your head. “No one has said that to me. I only got picked on growing up because I don’t look normal. People thought I was just dressing up but once I got older and grew into my features, everyone got scared.”

“Why were they scared?”

“They thought I was going to hurt them or something I guess. That’s why they called these scientists to get me.”

“Is that why you’re in the woods?” He questions. He mentally slaps himself because this sounds like an interrogation now. He hopes you don’t see it that way.

“Kinda? I ran away because I had enough of their experiments. I wanted to actually live and not be a test subject.”

Dante thinks to himself for a second, it’s not the first time he’s heard of people testing on others to try and understand demons. But you’re a different case, what is there to benefit out of testing on you? All he knows is that he’s mad you had to go through that and suffer for so long.

He reaches out his hand to you again, “Since you don’t have a place to return to, let’s go to mine alright?”

You take his hand more confidently this time and smile up at him. This is the first time you get to choose where you go. You wonder what his place is going to be like. After all he is a demon hunter so you bet it’s going to be an interesting place.

You are standing outside a building with a big sign saying “Devil May Cry”. You look at him confused, “Uh is this your place?”

“Yep.” Dante emphasizes the “p”. “It’s my shop and house. A two in one if you will.”

You look at him even more confused, “Two in one?”

His eyes widen at your question. You must have really been locked away for a while if you don’t know basic slang. “It just means combining two things into one. So double the benefits for one thing.”

You nod your head at his answer, “Okay I think I got it!”

He laughs at your determination. You really are cute. He leads you inside and winces once he turns on the light. If he knew he was having a guest over he would have cleaned.

The mess doesn’t seem to bother you though. You walk past him and look around. You see weapons lying around, stuff hanging on the wall, and a picture frame of a lady on his desk. This is all so cool! Having a place to yourself must be really nice.

You are so giddy walking around you don’t think about how some spots are a tight space. You spin around to look at different things on the wall you don’t even notice your wing hit something leaning against his desk. It made a loud thud and you jump back. You turn around to see you knocked a different sword to the ground.

You look at Dante terrified and start to freak out while apologizing, “Oh my gosh I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to knock it over. I was just so excited to look at everything I didn’t notice my surroundings. I am so sorry, I didn’t break it did I?”

Dante just laughs and it stresses you out more. Seeing that you’re actually serious he stops laughing and goes to pick up the sword.

“Sweetheart if a sword would break that easily there is definitely no way I’d keep it. So no it’s not broken and it’s alright. Plus I knock stuff over all the time when I’m in my devil trigger so don’t worry.”

“Wait you’re part demon?”

Oh shit he didn’t realize what he said until you are clarifying again. “Yeah. My dad is Sparda and my mom was human so boom. Part demon part human. I can transform into a demon form, I don’t do it too often though.”

“That’s so cool! We are opposites, but I feel so comfortable with you. It feels so right being by your side even though we just met!” You excitedly say. “Oh um by the way what’s your name?”

Damn you two really know some interesting facts about one another before even exchanging names.

“My name is Dante.” He holds out his hand towards you. You take it and shake his hand while telling him your name.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You blush at his compliment and look away from him again. “Your name is really pretty too, and you are too.” You mumble out the last part of the compliment though. Not having the confidence he has to openly say stuff like that.

He smiles even though you both know you can’t see it since you’re choosing to look away. “Thank you.”

It’s silent for a bit until Dante breaks the silence calling for you to look at him. “Wanna take a shower and head to bed? You must be tired and want to sleep.”

“Oh sure!” Dante leads you to his bathroom and starts the shower for you. He places towels and a pair of clothes to change into. “So I know I’m bigger than you but I don’t know if my shirts will be comfortable for your wings. If we need to cut the back when you’re done we can do that. I have plenty of old shirts we can cut up.”

Dante is really thoughtful you thought to yourself. You didn’t even think about all these details when he took you back here. You were just happy to finally live your life how you wanted to.

“That’s really sweet of you Dante, thank you. If we do have to cut them it hopefully shouldn’t be too big.”

He just nods at your answer, “Take as much time as you need to wash up. There’s no rush.” He then walks out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

You step out of your dress and take off your white strips off your face. You look at the scars under them and run your fingers softly over them. It hurts remembering your past but thinking about your future is actually fun now. You can do anything you want now. You can look forward to the rest of your life instead of wishing the next day would be your last.

You quickly then hop into the shower and wash yourself off. Dante’s soap smells so good. The smell is comforting to you. He really is your night in a shining leather jacket and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

You don’t take too long of a shower because you want to sleep. You did make sure to wash yourself super good to make sure everything is clean and neat again. You turn off the shower and step out to grab the towels Dante left out.

You wrap your hair in one then dry your body off. Once your body is dry you move to your wings. You delicately dry them to make sure not to hurt yourself. When your wings are all dry you slip on Dante’s old clothes.

It’s a black long sleeve shirt, black boxers and gray sweatpants. Each thing is a bit big on you but you don’t mind. But your wings are a little crammed. You wait to ask Dante for help because you want to put your white strips back on. You’re not ready to show him your scars so you quickly put them on then let down the towel that tied your hair up. You towel dry your hair the best you can or at least until your arms are tired.

When you finished that you open the bathroom door and walk out into his bedroom. You see that he’s sitting on his bed and you call out to him, “Dante?”

He looks over at you and smiles, “Feel better?”

“Yeah but could you cut the back for my wings? They’re a bit uncomfortable.”

Dante gets up and goes to the nightstand by his bed. He pulls out the bottom drawer and grabs a pair of scissors. He walks over to you and spins you around so your back is facing him.

He starts by your shoulder blade then cuts down most of the shirt. He finishes cutting the shirt and throws the scissors off to the side. “Do you mind if I touch your wings? I want to help you get them out of the shirt.”

“Yeah go ahead.” You brace for the feeling of his warm hands on your wings. You don’t know how you’re going to handle it.

Dante lightly touches your wings and guides them out each hole making sure they can move freely. He reaches for the scissors again and cuts some more so they have a bit more movement. He taps your shoulder and says “All done.”

His touch was so soft and careful. You’ve never had someone touch your wings like that before. You want to savor that feeling but you know right now you can’t. Maybe another day when you two are closer you can ask him to touch them again. But you’ll have to wait till that day.

“Thank you and I mean for everything tonight. You really are a great person.” You say while turning around to face him. Once you’re facing him you give him a light smile.

He smiles back down at you, “No problem, I’m just happy I can help you. Let’s call it a night though. Take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch, and no arguments about that. Tomorrow I’ll take you out to look at the town and have you eat at some of my favorite spots.”

He didn’t know your eyes could glimmer anymore than they did now. You look so happy and excited. Dante promises to himself that he will always make you look like that from now on.

“Yay! Sounds like so much fun, I can’t wait.”

He laughs and starts to walk out of his room. He pats you on the head when he walks by, “Goodnight and sleep well.”

“Goodnight Dante. May sweet dreams come for you tonight.”

Dante is then shutting the door as he leaves again. Your heart races with excitement. You can’t wait for tomorrow and to get closer to him. It feels like fate is finally in your favor. Dante might be part demon but he is your angel.

@moonlighteevee

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ BIRTHDAY BOY, S.W

summary. Sam deserves to be celebrated, so you surprise him with something he’s always wanted to do for his birthday.

⭑.ᐟ to apologize for my previous post… here’s a cute one for Sam’s birthday! There’s also a birthday boy (dean’s version) if you’d like to read that :) please interact and send requests if you have any<3

word count. 884

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

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The sun’s not even up yet. You know Sam’s bound to wake up soon, so you wait. You wait because the excitement is so high, you can’t go back to sleep. It’s not even your birthday- and yet you’ve never been more excited. You can’t wait to see the look on Sam’s face once he sees what you have planned for him.

A few long minutes later, you can feel him stir under your arm, you’re not one to be loud and too much in the morning, you’re not even a morning person- but Sam’s too special for you to stay still.

‘Morning.’ His hoarse voice rings in your ears.

‘Morning handsome. Happy birthday.’ You’re already sitting up in front of him on the bed, rubbing your hands like a Machiavellian villain. Like you’re plotting against him.

‘Okay, spill. What’s going on?’ Sam doesn’t even say thank you- he’s too focused now. He’s almost scared because he knows you take this too seriously. He almost doesn’t want to get out of bed- so he wants to know what you’ve planned.

‘What? Nothing!’ You’re not exactly the best at lying. It’s not in your genes, much less just you- you suck at it.

‘You have a tell.’ Sam raises his eyebrows.

‘I do not.’ You slap his arm, laughing trying to stay credible.

‘You so do. When you lie you roll your eyes. You don’t even do that when you’re annoyed.’

‘You’re seeing things.’ You roll your eyes, and the moment you do you sigh. Sam laughs at you, because you do have a tell.

‘Okay, fine. But I’m not telling you it’s a surprise.’

‘I hate surprises.’ He lays his head back on the bedpost.

‘You won’t hate this one, promise.’ You lean closer, and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

‘C’mon, move it! Shower, then get in the car. We’ve got an hour drive we have to hurry.’ You steal another kiss before running out of the room.

Sam looks at the door that just closed, your footsteps leaving further and he smiles. He smiles because he knew you wouldn’t stay still for his birthday and do nothing. And he can act annoyed- he probably will, but he’s so thankful for you. Thankful that someone still cares, still celebrates him in ways he deserves to be.

After a quick shower, he sees you already waiting by the car in anticipation.

The drive is quicker than expected but it’s quiet. It’s just music in the background, his hand on your thigh, some quick stolen glances.

The moment you get there, Sam’s so confused.

He sees planes, he sees costumes, and then he sees people jumping out of them from the sky.

‘You didn’t.’ He turns to look at you, only to see your hands covering your mouth while laughing.

‘So? You like it?’ Your heart almost stops in anticipation because he’s not smiling.

‘You’re insane you know that?’ He breaks a smile, finally.

‘Is that a yes?’

Before you have a chance to even hear an answer, Sam hugs you and spins you around. He whispers a small yes in your hair while your laugh echoes all around.

‘But it’s just me right? You’re not coming?’ He asks while setting you down, because he knows.

‘No I’m coming.’ You give him a small smile, although your hearts starts to beat faster by the second because you’re realizing what you’re about to do.

‘But- well you can’t? You’re so afraid of heights you cry when you have to get on a plane that’s why we drive everywhere. You cried last month because you had to jump from a window 3 feet up the ground?’

‘Okay first of all I don’t cry, that’s stupid. Second, yeah I’m a little scared but you’ve wanted this for so long I can’t not do it with you.’ You lie, again because you’re embarrassed.

‘So you’re doing it for me?’ Sam ignores that and teases you.

‘Oh shut up.’ You bump your shoulder into his, and soon enough he puts his arm around your shoulder.

Your hand goes up to intertwine with his.

‘Thank you for this. This means a lot.’ He looks down on you.

‘Of course baby, you deserve this. You deserve everything.’ You look up, and Sam looks at you like you’re the best thing to ever happen to him. He looks at you with so much love your heart might give out from more than just the stress.

Sam takes a bit of it away though. You’re not so nervous anymore- because you’re conquering a fear, and you’re doing it with Sam.

‘I love you.’ He smiles at you leaning down, but when he’s closer than possible, your hand leaves his, your body out from under his.

‘C’mon lover boy, we got some parachuting to do!’ You run to the small warehouse full of planes, but Sam doesn’t move.

He stays still and looks at you. Really- looks at you. He’s always known that you were the one. But now? He wonders if he should propose now instead of waiting. Maybe marry you on the spot even, because after this, after what you did for him, realizing one of his dreams, he never wants to let you go. He doesn’t want to go one more day without calling you his wife.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @lov3-audz @mostlymarvelgirl @that-stanford-girlie @sunnyteume @bohoooitsme (comment&follow to be added!)

[anon-188]

pairing: AJ x f!reader | genre: smut ❤️‍🔥 | wc: 2.9k

summary: you didn't even make it to hello. AJ walked through the door, and all you could think about was how good he'd feel inside you.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), smut with some plot, established relationship, masturbation mention (light), unprotected sex, teasing, lingerie kink, oral (m!receiving), soft dom!AJ, rough sex, hand around throat (not choking), praise, dirty talk, possessive behavior, light manhandling, soft aftercare (kind of).

(tl;dr: it’s pure smut.)

a/n: alexa, play hey daddy (daddy’s home) by usher 🙂‍↕️ 

also—thank you to everyone who voted!! i hope you enjoy this one ♡

It had been a little over a week since you’d last seen or heard from AJ. No calls. No texts. Not even a one-word check-in. You knew why—he and his crew had just pulled off a heist. Perfect, as always. But with that came the cool down period. The time they’d disappear, lay low, and let the dust settle.

You hated this part.

Once you two were together—really together—AJ had made it clear: he didn’t want to bring any trouble back to you. If something went wrong—he didn’t want your name anywhere near it. So after every job, he left town for a week, maybe longer, depending on how hot things were.

And you? You stayed at his place.

Which, you were already staying over most nights, but this was different. He told you outright that it made him feel better knowing you were in his space, surrounded by the life he built, protected in the ways only he knew how to set up.

So you agreed. 

But safety didn’t ease the ache that came with his silence. Not even close.

And it wasn't even just missing him—it was like your body couldn't stand that he wasn't here. It ached, like some cruel punishment for him not being near. For not being able to have him when you wanted him. A luxury you always seemed to forget was a luxury—until he was gone.

You’d tried everything—wearing his shirts, spraying them with his cologne until the scent filled the room. You even dragged your fingers between your thighs in his bed, desperate to take the edge off. But nothing worked. Nothing compared to what you really needed: him.

As the sun slowly set, you laid across his bed, waiting. You knew he’d call eventually—whenever the hell that was. You sighed, long and heavy, and it was as if the sound itself conspired with the universe. Because right then, your phone rang.

AJ.

You sat up fast, answering on the first ring. And just like you’d hoped to hear—desperately needed to hear—he told you he was coming home.

Just a few more hours.

That was all that was left.

A few more hours until he’d be back. Until you could have him the way you needed him.

You turned your head, eyes catching on the dresser. And just like that, an idea sparked.

There it was—tucked in the back of his drawer. A black lingerie set. His favorite. The one that always pulled that look from him. The one that had him forgetting his own rules.

You put it on, letting the fabric cling in all the right places. Then you pulled on one of his button-ups—left it unbuttoned, sleeves rolled once.

And then you waited.

Patiently…

Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Later, you found yourself on his couch—AJ’s button-up loose on your shoulders, one sleeve already slipping as you absently flipped through a worn magazine.

The anticipation built slow, thick, humming under your skin. But nothing—nothing—compared to the sound of the front door unlocking.

Your breath caught. You moved before you could even finish exhaling—feet hitting the floor, heart racing, the magazine discarded without a second thought.

You had a plan:

Be patient. Let him settle in. Offer a drink, maybe. Draw it out. Seduce him slow—make him give in completely.

But that went right out the fucking window the second your eyes landed on him.

And especially the second his eyes landed on you.

He froze in the doorway for half a second, the door falling shut behind him. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth like he was trying to play it cool—but his eyes gave him away.

And you didn’t wait for him to say it.

He barely dropped his bag in time to catch you, your body crashing into his, arms and legs wrapped tight around him. His hands slid beneath your thighs, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Missed me?” he murmured, already walking.

As soon as he reached the kitchen, he had you on the counter, your legs tightening around him again. Your hands were undoing his buttons while his palms roamed—tracing your thighs, brushing the lace you'd put on just for him. But that didn't stop him from teasing, grinning against your neck as he pressed slow, hot kisses there.

"Didn't even say hi," he muttered, lips dragging over your pulse. "You that needy, baby? Just couldn't wait to get your hands on me?"

You didn't answer—just pulled his mouth back to yours, kissing him, hard and urgent, like the ache in your chest had finally found relief.

"You dressed up just to jump me the second I walked in?" He pulled back with a breathless smirk.

“So you’re saying you don’t want this?” you shot back, slipping his button-up off your shoulders, revealing the full set beneath.

He leaned back just enough to take in the view, his eyes raking slowly over your chest to your thighs and back up to your face. "I didn't say that," his voice gravelly—too controlled. 

You smirked, bracing your hands against his chest and giving a light push, just enough to slide yourself off the counter and stand in front of him.

"Then stop teasing," you said, voice low against his mouth as you leaned into him and kissed him again. 

He laughed quietly, still pressed to your lips, both of you tugging his shirt down his arms, your hands already moving lower. 

You kissed down his chest, fingers dragging along his stomach as you worked open his belt, tugging the zipper next. Then you dropped to your knees as he stepped back, giving you space. Your hands slid into his waistband, and together you pushed his pants and briefs down just enough to free him—his cock already hard in your palm.

You looked up at him once, just once—and that was enough.

Your mouth wrapped around him like you'd been thinking about it all week—because you had. You started slow, your tongue tracing his tip before sliding lower, licking along the underside of his cock. Each pass was wetter, filthier than the last, your mouth taking more of him with every move. 

Above you, AJ groaned—low and ragged—his head tipping back as one hand slid into your hair. He didn't guide you, didn't force anything. Just held you there, his breath heavy, letting you take your time as you worked him over with slow, messy strokes of your tongue.

“Shit,” he muttered, voice strained, hips twitching slightly. “You really missed me, huh?”

You hummed around him, lips still wrapped tight, your eyes flicking up as you sucked him deeper. 

"Fuck." His voice cracked, a rasp barely above a whisper before he tugged you up, chest rising fast. His hands found your face and he kissed you hard, your lips still wet and slick from him.

He didn't bother breaking the kiss as you both started toward his bedroom, bodies locked together, your hands grabbing at him wherever they could. One of his hands stayed at your waist, guiding you backward, while the other slipped lower—past the curve of your hip, down the front of your panties.

His fingers found you fast, rubbing tight circles over your clit, even as you stumbled through the hallway—barely able to keep moving with the way he was already pulling you apart.

In the bedroom, AJ was finally stripped down, stretched out against the sheets like sin made flesh—black ink winding over his body beneath the soft glow spilling in from the windows. You were still in the lingerie set, the black lace hugging your body as you climbed over him, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. 

Your hands traced his chest first, then your mouth followed—pressing lower, just enough to make him twitch beneath you—before you kissed your way back up to his throat. Your lips paused at the small tattoo on his neck, lingering there with a kiss that pulled a quiet groan from his throat—before finally finding his mouth again, greedy and tongue-heavy.

AJ's hand slid behind you, fingers hooking into the lace of your underwear as he pulled them to the side. You leaned back just slightly, fingers wrapping around his length to line him up—a slow, teasing stroke, a shift of your hips, just enough to let his tip brush your entrance.

Then—

AJ bucked his hips up—not hard, but controlled. Intentional. Just enough to knock you forward, your hand flying out to catch yourself on the mattress just beside his head. Your face hovered inches above his now, lips parted, your teasing grin halfway gone.

“Thought you said no teasing,” he said, voice low and thick, eyes locked on yours like a loaded threat.

“Sorry,” you whispered, still smiling softly as you leaned down and kissed him—slow, deep, like an apology he could taste.

You leaned back again, one hand guiding him, the other braced against his chest as you lowered yourself onto his cock inch by inch. Your mouth parted in a gasp, eyes fluttering as he filled you. AJ groaned beneath you, head tipping back slightly, hands firm on your waist like he was holding back.

You started to move—rolling your hips, fucking yourself on him with a rhythm that was anything but sweet. Your hands stayed planted on his chest for balance as you rode him, moaning louder with every movement. AJ's fingers slid up your stomach, then caught the straps of your lingerie, pulling them down slowly until your tits spilled free, bouncing with every thrust. And his hands didn't stop there.

He thumbed over your nipples, squeezing your breasts like he couldn’t decide what he wanted more—to watch or to touch.

"Look at you, fuck..." he gritted out, breath catching as he watched you move. "Takin' me so well." His eyes stayed locked on where your bodies met, jaw tight.

Your moans echoed in the room, raw and shameless, but you didn't care. You had what you wanted—him inside you, thick and deep, making you feel so fucking good it bordered on unbearable. You moved faster, harder.

When you started to break—body tight, breath uneven—AJ sat up suddenly, mouth finding yours, kissing you deep as you kept riding him. His hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your ass. Then he shifted, pulling you tighter against him as his mouth trailed lower—down your jaw, your neck—before closing around your nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking just right.

It was too much—all of it. His mouth, his grip, the way he held you like he couldn’t get enough.

You came with a cry, hands twisted tight in his hair, your body seizing as your hips stuttered. AJ held you through it, one arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other still in your hair, keeping you close as your body trembled against his.

Your hips slowed—small, broken movements—as the waves of your orgasm faded. Your body melted into his, lips finding his in a slow, lingering kiss—soft, grateful. 

Then he pulled back.

You blinked down at him, breathing heavy, lips still parted as confusion flickered across your face.

“What, you thought we were done?” he said, voice low, already thick with intent.

His smirk returned—cocky, dark. "If you missed me so much..." His hand slid down your side, unhurried and calculated. "You can take a little more. Right?"

You knew exactly what he meant—what he planned to take. He may have said a little, but AJ never did anything half-assed. And that was exactly what you loved about this. About him.

You nodded, slow but certain.

“Good,” he murmured, kissing you once, deep and sure. “Lay down.”

You climbed off of him, your chest still rising and falling as you shifted on the bed. AJ followed, moving with you, one hand steady on your waist as he guided you down onto your back, laying you out across the cool sheets.

He hovered for a moment, eyes dragging over your body like he was already planning his next move. A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

“…What?” you asked, breathless, blinking up at him.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he went lower, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then he paused—lifting his head just enough to look at you again, eyes fixed on yours.

And then—without warning—he flipped you.

One hand gripped your waist, the other catching under your thigh as he turned you over fast, fluid. Your cheek hit the mattress, arms tucked beneath you, breath catching as your heart pounded.

He was already peeling your panties down, rougher now—lace tugged down your legs and off in one motion. Then he climbed over you, knees planting wide, his thighs bracketing yours as he gripped your hips and tilted them up, angling you exactly how he wanted—flat on your stomach, chest down, ass up.

"Just like that," he said behind you, his voice low.

And he didn’t wait.

His body shifted, hovering just above yours as his cock slid between your thighs, lining up with your entrance. One thrust—sharp, unforgiving—and you gasped, face turned down, fingers clenching the sheets.

Then his hand came down—pressing hard into the small of your back, pinning you in place as his hips snapped forward, fucking into you with a pace that was nowhere near gentle now. Your moans came out scattered between broken gasps as you lifted onto your elbows. 

"Fuck," he groaned, hand still planted firm against your back. "You put this on just for me?" His eyes dropped to the lingerie, what little of it still clung to your skin.

You whimpered, barely able to nod.

"I'm gonna ruin you in it," he growled, his thrusts hitting rougher now. "Gonna fuck you so good, you'll feel me every time you even think about putting it on."

You moaned, your elbows buckling slightly as he picked up the pace, hips slamming into you hard enough to make the bed jolt beneath you. His voice stayed low and rugged, every word landing just as deep as his cock.

You tried to breathe through it, tried to hold on, but your body was already giving out, your chest heaving, your thighs and stomach tightening under him.

You were close. So fucking close.

And he knew it.

AJ leaned over you more, one arm braced beside your shoulder while the other slid under your jaw, tilting your head back until your eyes met his—his face right above yours, watching you fall apart beneath him as he kept driving himself into you from behind. 

"This what you wanted, huh?" he rasped, voice rough between thrusts. "Me home, fucking you like this? That what you missed?"

"Yes—" you gasped, the word spilling out between sharp cries. "Yes... AJ, fuck—yes." Your voice cracked, the sounds caught between moans and desperate little whimpers that only made him go harder.

His hand slid from your jaw to your throat, the grip not too tight, but firm, commanding. He held you there, forced you to keep looking up at him as he crashed his mouth into yours, kissing you—hot, filthy, and bruising—swallowing your cries as he pounded into you without mercy.

“Show me how much you wanted this,” he said against your lips. “Let me feel it.”

And you did.

Your orgasm ripped through you—sharp and overwhelming, your body clenching around him so tightly it knocked a moan from his throat. His hand stayed firm around your neck as your whole body shook under him, back arching as you came—so fucking wrecked, just as his rhythm started to fall apart.

AJ's pace turned brutal—ragged, relentless. His hand moved from your throat to your back again, holding you down as he drove into you—each thrust rougher, more punishing than the last. And then he buried himself to the hilt with a groan, hips grinding deep, cock twitching inside you as he came—hard—your name breaking from him in a low, strained moan as he emptied himself completely, every muscle drawn tight, body shaking against yours. 

AJ finally pulled out with a low, satisfied breath. He moved beside you, body heavy against the mattress, and for a moment everything was quiet—just the sound of your breathing, still uneven. You used what little strength you had left to shift closer, your limbs slow and spent as you curled up next to him, tucking your body into his side.

He didn't say anything—just softly kissed the top of your head, while one hand dragged lazily down your spine. You looked up at him, eyes meeting his in the low light, and leaned in for another kiss. This one was deeper, slower, lingering. The kind of kiss that said more than words ever could. The kind that made it impossible to pretend like he hadn't been gone for days.

You hated when he left. Always had.

But you had to admit—you loved when he came home like this.

It made the waiting almost worth it.

please do not repost, copy, or claim my work as your own.

tag list: @alealuvshayden @haydenchristensenisbae @sythethecarrot

if you want to be tagged in my future posts, just let me know (comment or message me). i’m happy to do it! :)

links: masterlist

[forgan-forge]

I had surgery a couple days ago, and as a whump writer, I, of course, had to take notes.

So, here’s a bullet list of my experience, for writing purposes or otherwise. I, for one, love putting my characters in hospitals. Also good notes for anxiety about upcoming surgeries, I guess.

Happy writing, my fellow angst-enthusiasts!

Pre-Op:

No eating for 8 hours before the surgery, no drinking for 2-3.

They make you sanitize yourself with chlorhexidine wipes, and they give you a very bad-tasting mouthwash. I had to swab my nose, too, with antiseptic. They make you take everything off and change into a gown. No piercings, either. The chlorhexidine kinda makes your skin yellow. It’s kinda sticky, too.

A bunch of questions when you get back to pre-op, like what meds you’re on, confirming what surgery you’re having and why, what you ate and when you ate it. (Same for drinking.) This gets repeated a lot between different nurses and the anesthesiologist.

They start an IV line early, pretty much as soon as you’re in the bed, mine was attached to fluids which dripped while I was waiting to be wheeled back.

They give a relaxative through IV right before wheeling you back to the operating room. Sometimes they’ll give nausea medicines, too.

Equipment:

5 ECG leads on chest and abdomen.

Heart moniter on index finger.

Blood pressure cuff, usually on the arm opposite of the IV. It’s sometimes set on a timer, other times they’ll activate it manually.

They put a nasal cannula with oxygen in your nose, it’s kind of annoying and the air coming through it is dry and cool. In most cases, they’ll intubate you while under, and you’ll wake up with a sore throat. Other times, a mask is used. I’ve had all three (I think)

In the OR:

They wheel you back on your bed.

They move you (or in most cases, you move yourself) from the bed to the operating table. After the operation is done, they move you back onto the bed because you’ll still be unconscious.

There are huge lights above the operating table, and they look threatening, but by the time you’re back there, you’ll be so out-of-it you probably won’t care.

Most anesthesiologists will ask you to count down from 100 or 10. You’re usually out after 3 counts.

Recovery:

You wake up in the recovery wing, I woke up twice before actually waking up for good. Nurse will attend to you once you’re conscious.

Most patients wake up shortly after anesthesia is stopped.

For all my surgeries, I woke up confused and unsure if the surgery already happened or not. It’s like time traveling. You won’t really know where you are, the first thing I registered was the nasal cannula and the blankets stacked on top of me.

Really groggy when waking up.

Limbs feel really heavy and awkward to move, I stumbled around a lot.

Some dizziness and general uncoordination.

They ask you what you want to drink, I chose Sprite, but they offered juice and water.

They had to wheelchair me out, which I assume is true for most outpatient procedures.

Most modern anesthesia effects wear off in about an hour (but it really depends on your metabolism)

You’ll probably want to sleep the rest of the day, and depending on what pain meds you’re on, you’ll be high whilst taking them.

Someone has to be with you for the first 24 to 48 hours.

Depending on where the procedure was, the skin there will be yellow/orange where they applied iodine. Showering unattended is probably not a good idea for the first day.

Nausea is a common side effect of anesthesia.

Some other notes for anesthesia: it’s like, really weird. They basically paralyze your entire body, and you don’t dream while under. While some people describe general anesthesia effects as a sort-of high, I don’t really think it equates. I was just really confused, I remember having to undress in front of a nurse and I didn’t really care because my brain wasn’t quite working. Honestly, I don’t remember much from the rest of that day. Your passage of time is kinda fucked, the drive home always feels like a blink. I guess it feels more like being drunk, at least for the type I was on. If I was on pain meds, I’m sure it would’ve been different.

Another note: emergency or urgent operations obviously differ, especially if the patient is unconscious. Assessment is a lot quicker, and stabilization is needed before surgery. Diagnostics are needed right after assessment, rather than scheduled pre-surgery for elective operations. Stabilization may occur immediately after assessment, and sterilization is done in the OR. If a patient is incoherent, family is contacted for consent and info. You’ll either go to the PACU or ICU depending on your condition. (Source: I write angst. A lot of angst. Also, I’ve actually had an urgent surgery. It’s a long story. I don’t go near playgrounds anymore.)

[sparrows4bats]

So this is Batcow fan account, and I shall starting earning that title now.

Batcow is the greatest matchmaker to ever live. She is the reason for the batfamilys continuing sanity and relationship status. The Manor functions because of Alfred and Batcow.

How, you ask? How does a bovine save superhero and vigilante love lives? Why does a cow hold that much power? Dear sweet child, Batcow Is, that is how. But some quick examples of her her brilliance follow:

Dickory

Batcow is how Dick wins Kory back after a spectacular fight that almost breaks them up. Dick is upset and takes it out by arguing with Bruce and then walking around the Manor Gardens to cool off where he notices Batcow has somehow inexplicably ended up on the roof of the Manor. She looks unharmed, but there is no way for her to get down.

Dick panics because if anything happens to that cow, Damian will murder everyone in the house and fight Ras himself to get her to a Lazarus Pit. So after a moment or two of trying to think of a way out of this. He does what he usually does when his back is against the wall, and his life is on the line. He calls Kory.

After listening to him explain, she flies over and air-lifts Batcow off the roof. Where Dick promptly falls to his knees in front of this literal Queen and apologies for being a stubborn ass. Kory laughs and kisses him. Dick brings Bat Cow treats for weeks after.

JayRoy

Jason has been pining after Roy for months, possibly years, but can't find the right way to see if they could be anything more than friends. If they get together, he is in this for the long haul, not just for Roy but Lian too. So, instead of communicating like a normal person, he starts a silent campaign of proving he is Step Dad Material.

All of his attempts somehow backfire. Lian loves him, but Roy has no kitchen left and thought they both died twice. (He still lets Jason watch her, though. JASON IS OBLIVIOUS) So he is looking for child safe activities that don't involve bedtime stories(Lian prefers his over Roy's already), and then Damian remarks how friendly his pets are with civilians in his never ending pursuit of getting Bruce to allow him to patrol with his pets. And Jason knows exactly what to do. Why go to a petting zoo when he has one in the Manors backyard?

(They are still banned from the actual zoo. That penguin was fine. Eventually.)

So he brings Roy and Lian over to the Manor, and Alfred sets up lunch on the grass. Lian loves batcow and the rest of Damians' menagerie. She is so happy that after hours of cuddling and feeding the animals that she throws herself into Jason's arms and says, "Thank you, Pops! Can we come back tomorrow? Pretty please?" Jason tears up, and Roy smiles. He also asks him on a date so he can make it official. (Roy isn't as happy when he finds out about the Dragons on their next visit.)

Jason gives Lian a Batcow plushie when he adopts her a few years later.

TimBer/ Timbernkon

Tim hesitates to kiss Bernard and later Kon for so long that Batcow steps up to help him.

Tim after hours of too little sleep and too much angst . He goes to vent to the cow because she's good company and won't spill his secrets to anyone. One of these chats was interrupted by a worried Bernard looking for this boyfriend after he disappeared from his office.

Bernard loves Batcow, and seeing him act so adoring to her makes any doubt he had fly away. Because Bernard looks at him in almost the same way so he leans in and finally kisses him properly. They end up making out a little and get caught by Alfred, who came to feed Batcow her dinner.

When Tim and Bernard introduce Kon to Batcow, after a few weeks of trying to convince him to date them, Batcow full on body checks him into Bernard, and they accidentally kiss as Kon avoids crushing him. Tim pouts until Kon kisses him, too.

Bernard now visits Batcow at least once a week and bonds with Damian over her.

BatCat

They didn't know Batcow was pregnant or how she even got pregnant, until one day she went into Labour.

Damian is a mess and enlists Selinas' help because she has been around so many cat births. She tries to tell him a cow is completely different, but Damian is desperate and won't take no for an answer. Silena and Damian stay with Batcow, brushing and encouraging her until Batcalf is born.

Damian falls in love at first sight, and Silena has a realisation and suddenly blurts out that she thinks she might be pregnant while looking over the newborn. Damian doesn't react for a moment, and Silena fears the worst until he starts tearing up a little and asks rather shakily, "Does that mean I'll be a big brother?" Silena hugs him and tells him he will be the best big brother and doesn't comment on the tears that soak her shirt.

They tell Bruce together, first about Batcalf and then about the baby. (He is stunned, and Damian tells him off for his response because his silence is upsetting Silena and "She needs little to no stress in her condition, Father!")

Damian and the Cows follow Silena like shadows during her pregnancy (she doesn't ask how Batcow gets into the house and Bruce is too upset about how his son and his pets are doing a better job than him at being supportive to notice how Bat Calf sleeps on Damians bed.)

Damian is the first, after her parents, to hold Helena Wayne. He gives her two Cow plushies she carries everywhere for years.

StephCass

Batcow goes missing while Damian is on a mission, Stephanie is meant to be watching her, as Alfred is away as well. AND SHE LOST THE COW. Damian is going to kill her. Not even Cass could save her.

Then she realises, Cass! Cass will find Batcow, if anyone can, Cass, the most competent person ever, will.

So Cass and Steph spend hours searching everywhere they can think of until it starts to rain. And Cass looks so good with wet hair and rain drops sticking to her lashes that she can't help just kiss her. (They might die tomorrow if they don't find the cow anyway, so YOLO). Cass kisses back and asks, 'What took her so long?'

Batcow is on the roof on the Manor. They call Kara to come get her. No one knows how she ended up there, but they all agree never to tell Damian.

Duke/Izzy

Apparently, 'Do you want to go see my crazy family's pet cow?' is a ridiculous way to ask a girl out. But it made Izzy laugh so hard she says yes anyway.

Duke gives Batcow extra attention ever since and sends Izzy regular updates on her 'Adventures'.

Jondami

Batcow, like in the supersons movie, is one of the first things Jon and Damian bond over. Jon comes over to help Damian with his pets regularly, and that is how their partnership develops to friendship and then something more.

Then, Batcow gets sick, and Damian panics hard. (He has contingencies in place if she dies, but if he can prevent that, he will.) Damian calls for Jon for the first time ever, and Jon is there in Minutes. Damian is in tears and hugging his cow like a giant teddy bear when he arrives. He's never seen Damian look so....human. They investigate what is hurting Batcow and Jon figures out she's pregnant AGAIN, this time possibly with twins.

Damian is so relieved that he hugs Jon. It's the first time Damian has touched him willingly outside of training and missions. They are both teenagers at this point, and its like Jons whole world tilts on its axis. Righting itself to centre on the boy in his arms, a boy who is so kind and lovely, despite all the reasons he shouldn't be. Damian fits under his chin, and suddenly, Jon knows he would do anything to make him happy, to keep in his arms where Jon can protect him. Jon knows Damian can protect himself and has done so hundreds of times, but Jon wants to be the one he calls when he's scared, and based on tonight, he already is.

Damian pulls back too soon, and Jon, instead of pulling him into another hug, kisses him. Best of all, Damian kisses him back.

Duke catches them, and they swear him to secracy with the agreement that he can bring Izzy over when the new calves are born.

They still don't know how Batcow got pregnant, but they name the calves Supercow and Wondercow because Lian insisted. (Jon and Damian laugh at Bruce's face when they introduce him to the new members of the family.)

Batcow deserves an award for her service. For now, she and her children are spoiled rotten.

[fuyuu-chan]

What do the solo leveling men do when (name) loves staying up late?

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader & Liu Zhigang x Reader (Separate)

Fuyuu-chan: im pretty sure there's many who is night owls here, right? hehehe

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Sung Jinwoo:

• doesn't really mind it

• he would even join you especially when he just got back at home after finishing a dungeon late at night

• want to go on late night walks? Sure.

• want to ride on kaisel? Of course.

• just want to stay at home? No problem.

• you two would go on a quick grocery run before going back to the comfort of your home

• he would set up the foods and drinks you two bought as you settle down on the couch with your blanket draped over your lap as jinwoo joins you

• you two would chat as you munch on your midnight snacks

• the kids shadow soldiers would pop out here and there for funsies

• and whatever you wanted to do for the rest of night, jinwoo would indulge, he would be there, watching or doing it with you

• like marathon for your shows and movies? Bet.

• playing games? Would watch or join.

• reading books that makes you giggle? If that's what makes you happy, he would either have another copy to read it with you at the same time or he would listen to you ramble about what's happening on the book and why you reacted that way. And he would do it all with a fond smile

• he would make sure that you rest tho at the end, like a good hours of sleep after staying up late, doesn't matter if you slept until afternoon

• he would do it all over again if thats what you wanted

Liu Zhigang:

• i think this man prioritize rest, like a routine, he has schedule for this and for that but also the type of man that whenever he felt tired he would just let it happen (me and @mayaree-darling agrees 🤝)

• he would be concerned at your sleeping schedule when he realizes that you love staying up late

• like srs? But he lets it, he indulges too here and there

• when you get hungry in times you should be sleeping, he would go to the kitchen to make your cravings. And you would accompany him either helping or when he refuses you would simply sit at the kitchen island facing him as he cooks.

• you would ramble to him as he simply listens, making small comments or sharing his opinion on things

• when he finishes making your cravings you would kiss him on the cheek as thank you

• you two would eat in the dimly lit kitchen area

• its simple and cozy for you, just the way you like as you had always wanted someone to share this moment with and you are beyond grateful its with liu

• after that, you would help him clean the dishes and then go back to your shared room

• you would do your routine at the bathroom in which you drag liu with you, skincare routine!

• liu doesnt mind  as he attentively watch you on how you do your skincare and follows your steps

• you took pictures of you two on your facemasks and such to keep the memory

• after a refreshing skincare you would hop on the bed with liu, he set a calming background noise at the tv (or a show/movie he was interested in) as you grab the book you were currently reading

• he would watch on the tv, staying up with you as you read your book but whenever you would talk about it he would pause the tv and listens to you

• he gave the same vibe tho, like he was just not listening he would comment on some parts and even judge the characters on the book especially on their decisions

• it would end up the whole night, just you two talking about it, liu would scooch closer and read the book with you (completely forgetting his show/movie). Tbh he get stressed in some situations at the book

• like is the fl dumb or smth?? That man is clearly not a good guy

• anyway...

• the next few nights he dragged you to bed trapping you in his arms when he got to know you'e been satying up late straight for days. How do u even function??

• he would not let u go until you give in and sleep

• like srs, you need a good night's rest in order for u to function at daylight especially when you're a hunter yourself and have to fight in dungeons almost everyday

• he makes a sleeping schedule for you tho, like he considered you wanting to stay awake in the middle of the night, its peaceful and quiet and you get to enjoy it, and he gets that

• soooo he recommend on trying to sleep at 8pm and you could wake up at 2am so at least you have 6 hours (of course it could be longer than that if you want but if you want to lessen those hours, he wouldn't let you, he would hug you closer to him as if he isn't already doing just that)

• when you agree, he would change his routine, so he could match yours especially when you enjoy his company, when it felt like it was just you two in the world

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Please do not copy, translate, repost to any other social media, Thank you.

[crushmeeren]

❣︎ piecemeal (brother’s best friend au!)

⤷ ⋆ part two ; ft. kenma kozume

❣︎ note ; so, okay, i know this took forever. it took me a long time to find the motivation to write this but i really enjoyed writing it. and this became a much longer chapter than i intended so i had to split it because the next scene i’m writing is also long. trying to move their relationship along and the few moments in this chapter are sweet and the next moment is a big one. so yeah. enjoy!

❣︎ cw ; some hand holding, some flustered moments, sweet and fluffy.

| master list | | piecemeal masterlist |

time skip. reader is thirteen. kenma is fifteen. tetsurou is sixteen.

Thirteen is old enough to stay home alone.

That’s the argument presented to your Mother, but she makes it crystal clear you’re going to Tetsurou’s volleyball game this evening.

She’s not asking. Doesn’t stop you from complaining. Going to a stupid volleyball game, being bored for hours — yeah, not on the agenda. It’s Friday night, staying home and watching movies, playing Mario Kart, it’s your rest and relaxation routine every weekend.

After sulking on the couch for an hour your Mother casually reminds you Kenma is also on the team, so you’ll get to watch him play too. Fighting through embarrassment and red hot cheeks you snap that you don’t care. She sees straight through the bluff.

If that isn’t enough, it’s evident you’re lying by how fast you tie your shoes. Waiting for your Mother by the front door, tapping your foot and refusing to meet her knowing eyes.

↡ ↡ ↡ ↡ ↡ ↡

Sitting on the cold metal bleachers sours your mood further. Your arms stay crossed as your parents speak softly to one another, allowing your festering teenage angst to roll off their shoulders.

So far, the opposing team is by themselves on the court, taking the advantage to warm up. The squeaking of sneakers echos throughout the gym, palms smacking hard against volleyballs, sending them flying over the net.

The overpowering scent of salonpas burns your nose.

Soft cheering starts up, pulling your attention towards the door leading to the locker room. Tetsurou’s tall frame appears first, of course, waving to the crowd like a celebrity. You roll your eyes — he’s so dumb. The rest of the boys file out steadily, and when you catch a glimpse of bleach blonde hair your heart stutters.

Kenma’s expression screams indifference as he walks to the row of chairs set up on the sideline. He tucks his hair behind his ears, showing off his side profile, and your stomach squirms. Kenma takes a seat and tilts his head up as your brother approaches him. Tetsurou frowns at whatever Kenma says, dipping down to search and pull his phone from his bag, typing something quickly.

“Sweetheart,” your Mother calls, shaking your shoulder.

“Yeah kaasan?” Your voice is distant, distracted. Too busy staring at Kenma as he leans back in his chair and stretches his arms overhead.

“Please go buy a water for your brother and Kenma-chan from the vending machine. Tetsu messaged me saying he forgot his.”

Turning to pout at your Mother you ask, “Do I have to take it them?”

“Yes,” she says firmly, raising an eyebrow. “Walk it over to them before the game starts. Hurry, please.”

“Yes kaasan,” you mumble, accepting the money in her outstretched hand. The butterflies in your belly have your hands curling into fists, crumpling the money.

It’s a short trip to the vending machine. Those two drink the same brand of water each time, so there’s no debating which buttons to press. You suck in several deep breaths, shuffling through the gym doors.

You do not want to go over there.

Both your brother and Kenma face the net as you sneak up right behind Tetsurou. Neither notice your presence.

“Tetsu-nii,” you say, placing the cold water bottle on his neck.

He squeaks and jumps a foot in the air, spinning in his seat. “Hey! Don’t do that,” he gripes, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ignoring him you will yourself not to blush under the weight of Kenma’s stare. “Here,” you snap, thrusting the water towards your brother. “Kaasan said to bring you this.”

Tetsurou rolls his eyes and accepts it with a grin. “Thanks imouto-chan~,” he sings.

You hold the other bottle out in offering to Kenma and his eyes widen. “I got you one too,” you explain, unable to look away from where your fingers brush as he grabs it. Your hand flops uselessly to your side.

Before Kenma responds Nekoma’s coach calls for them to gather around and both boys rise to their feet. “Wait!” You blurt, gripping the hem of Kenma’s jersey. He freezes, twisting his neck and raises an eyebrow in question. “Uh, g-good luck Kenma,” you stammer, dropping Kenma’s shirt like it’s a hot coal.

Kenma glances from his jersey to your face, something soft and kind in his eyes. “Thanks,” he says, giving you a small smile. You nod stiffly, whirling around to hurry to your seat. You imagine you look similar to a tomato right now.

“Hey! What about me? I’m your brother!” Tetsurou calls after you. You flip him off over your shoulder and Tetsurou’s laughter follows you to the bleachers.

The game is much more interesting than you’d expected. You’d never seen your brother or Kenma play an actual game. Sure, you’d watched them practice in the backyard, the flimsy net shaking with the wind, but that’s all.

To be fair, Kenma is who you watch the most. He doesn’t get much action on the court, seeing as he’s a first year, yet he’s mesmerizing as a setter for that small amount of time.

The cute way his nose scrunches in concentration. How his hair bounces when he jumps for the ball. His shirt sticks to his chest with sweat, and as he walks toward the chairs for a break he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe off his face.

You’re frozen in your seat, the brief view of his tight stomach shocking you to the core. Something warm twists in your belly, a thought popping into your head that you’ve never had before.

Kenma is hot.

↡ ↡ ↡ ↡ ↡ ↡

Your parents treat the three of you to dinner after the game. They won, and Tetsurou is explosive with happy energy.

“Did you see the last spike I landed Kenma?” Tetsurou vibrates in his seat. He hasn’t stopped talking about it since the match ended.

Kenma snorts, picking at the last of the food on his plate. “I saw it. The other team almost blocked it.”

“Don’t rain on my parade,” Tetsurou laughs.

Your parents had wandered off to another table, distracted by a couple friends who waved them down. Kenma’s seated on your left at the table, Tetsurou across.

“I guess you did okay, Tetsu-nii,” you chime in, glancing at Kenma who smirks at the jab.

“You mean amazing, imouto-chan,” Tetsurou corrects, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m going to be captain next year, just watch!”

The conversation lulls, your parents taking their sweet time to return. Tetsurou’s gaze flickers between the two of you, and then he announces, quite loudly, he’s going to the restroom. You glare at your brother as he leaves. Kenma pays him no mind, slipping his phone from his pocket, playing some game that reminds you of candy crush.

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth, chancing a peak at Kenma, debating whether or not to speak. You shift in place and clear your throat. “Ya know, you’re good at volleyball too, Kenz.”

Kenma stills, thumbs pressing too hard against his screen. He meets your gaze. “Me?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you confirm, heat crawling up your throat, flushing your cheeks.

“Oh,” he squeaks, the apples of his cheeks pinking up. “Thanks. I — I’m glad you came to the watch our game.” It comes out awkwardly, voice so soft it’s hard to hear.

You nod, fingers clenching the hems of your shorts as you stare a hole into the table. Dying on the inside because now it’s awkward — and it’s your fault.

The quiet thrum of background chatter keeps it from becoming too unbearable as you pray for your brother’s speedy return.

Soft knuckles suddenly brush the back of your hand and a jolt runs down your spine, neck snapping to stare at Kenma with wide eyes.

“You’re gonna hurt your fingers,” he says, encouraging you to uncurl them. Your brain short circuits. You nod, unable to form a single thought, and let him straighten your fingers.

Kenma hesitates, brow creasing as he stares at his hand resting on yours. You don’t pull away and it’s as much permission as you can give with your heart jackhammering. Slender fingers thread through yours, his palm clammy, and he squeezes.

He’s so warm. Your butterflies have evolved into hornets.

No words are exchanged. Just silence. Sitting, enjoying the comfort holding hands with Kenma brings. Until Tetsurou appears out of thin air. He looks too smug when you and Kenma jump apart, avoiding eye contact with one another.

Tetsurou thinks it’s hilarious that your faces are the exact same shade of red.

↡ ↡ ↡ ↡ ↡ ↡

Kenma stays the night. He and Tetsurou are holed up in his room the moment they step through the front door.

Whatever. Not like you wanted to hang out anyways.

Sleep, however, is not your friend this evening. The memory of Kenma’s hand in yours, the warm squeeze in your belly, it brings an overwhelming mix of emotions that keeps you wide awake.

Around midnight is when it starts to get under you skin. Brushing up on your Mario Kart skills seems the only logical option. You sneak to the living room, firing up the game. After winning three races in a row, your confidence soars through the roof. You knew you were getting better.

The controller almost flys from your hands when a loud creak sounds from behind you, head whipping towards the hallway.

“Sorry!” Kenma holds his hands up in apology, trying to hold in laughter. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your shoulders relax and you sigh in relief. “It’s okay.” Your brows pinch together. “How long have you been standing there?”

Kenma looks at the TV and shrugs. “Maybe ten minutes.”

Enough time to see you win, at least. “Oh. Can’t sleep or something?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Is Testu-nii asleep?”

“He’s snoring so loud I had to leave the room.”

Your head tilts with a laugh. “Yeah, it’s annoying. If I have to share a room with him, I kick him to make him stop.” You pause for a moment. “Hey, Kenma?”

He quirks his head to the side. “Yeah?”

“Do you…would you maybe wanna play a few rounds with me? I’m getting better, I might even be able to beat you!” Your voice showcases your excitement.

“Sure,” he smiles. Kenma makes his way to where you’re comfortable on the floor, propped against the couch, and sits down with his legs stretched out.

You pass him the extra controller, going through the steps to set the game for two players. “What character do you want to be?”

“Mm. Toad, definitely. What about you?”

“Daisy.”

“Good choice,” Kenma approves, scrolling the options to customize his car.

You bite back a smile, mirroring his actions. You inch closer until your thighs press together. He returns the gesture.

Kenma 100% kicks your ass, as suspected. It doesn’t matter, you’re just happy to spend time with him. When you both grow tired of the game, thumbs aching, he suggests moving to the couch for a movie.

Good thing he’s a night owl just like you.

At some point you’ve fallen asleep, because when you wake up your head’s resting on his shoulder.

Somehow your hand’s found his again.

taglist ; | @grenadehearts | | @risagichi | | @star-3214 | | @folksmione | | @yttafahtiwyvas | | @ankol-heap | | @bokutosmeatythigh | | @miruac |

[ihavenoideawhatiamdoingjustgay2]

Unraveling you at the Seems

Genre : Haters to Lovers

Summary : Your new Marriage with the Knave isn't going well, untill a certain invite that will put your world upside down reaches you.

Notes : Figthing, injury, I'm so tired, so, so tired, sorry for another cliffhanger istg it won't happen again, I don't wanna spend that much time on this baby bc of my book, also I'm lazy, hope you enjoy

Wordcount : 1,718

Chapter : 1 / 2 / ?

My Masterlist

Link to AO3

Your dagger hit only air and you stepped forward, nearly falling into the fire yourself.

What.

A sudden voice sounded meters from behind you. "I expected better."

You span around, looking at the woman, her glowing scythe and cross shaped burns that littered the ground.

"You knew.", you mumbled, but there was no suprise in it. Yet, you couldn't help yourself from staring in disbelief. Disbelief at how your family had sent you to die, for the most part.

"I raise assasins.", she spat, taking a few steps forward, spinning her scythe. "Do you think I wouldn't recognize my own techniques?"

You straightened up. "I've been taugth dirtier tricks."

Her eyebrows knitted together. "You're lying." she declared, then chuckled.

You had enough of the circling. You were at her side in a few seconds, but Arlecchino blocked your attack with ease.

She huffed while looking at your weapon.

"Is this really your weapon of choice?"

You groaned, letting go of the block and resorting to doging her, your arms were slowly getting tired. "It's not like you are easy to kill!", she swung the scythe towards you, but you dodged just in time, being able to graze her side, having blood trickle down, she ligthly hissed, turning in an instant, slashing, you blocked again and again. You had only been taugth to defend yourself and how to stab someone, damn it! "I have been, trying and trying the last few months-"

"You let the perfect moments slip rigth through your fingers!" Arlecchino criticized, using your weak spots and the openings you created, slashing little cuts in your clothing and skin, but the adrenaline made you void of the feelings towards them. She could kill you, yet she was holding back. She was never holding back...unless when- you were unhanded within a second and your face met the ground. Your own knife was held up against your throath. This was a lesson. Or an offer. "And now you left the perfect opening. Amateur."

You didn't try to thrash around, neither did you make a move to go and grab the knife, unhand her like you've been taugth. "I know.", you sighed, looking at the ground. "I thougth I'd finally manage to kill you if the stakes were raised..." you explained "something like an explosion...but my lack of patience and time came to ligth, I suppose.", you liften your head, sligthly deciding to look at her face, trying to read any change. But her mask didn't move an inch.

"I will give you credit where credit is due.", she said. "I did not suspect you until about three moths ago, though your relation to the Jester did tick me off." "You became so skittish, secretive, the children told me about your odd way to handle a knife...and the whole of last week,", she huffed. ",did you think that I wouldn't notice? You sat at the desk for hours and I knew something was up when the maid told me that you said there were renovations at the palace. I was there last week."

You shivered. "When!?"

"Does that really matter to you rigth now?", she continued holding the knife against your throath.

No, it didn't. You set your head back down into the grass. "Thank you for figthing me. It was an honor.", you closed your eyes, but never felt a slash. You opened your left eye. "What is it?"

She sighed. "When I was younger, I owned a pet spider."

"Bambi...", you mumbled and she nodded, holding the knife closer to your throat. You should let her talk out.

"Now, at first I did not know how to handle such a frail creature, so, as to protect herself, she bit me one day when I accidentally slipped. It hurt and I was in the infirmary for two days, a friend took care of her meanwhile. In time, I took her back and handled her properly, she never bit me again."

"What do you wish to say?"

"I take care of what is mine...even if it tries to kill me.", the knife glinted in the ligth. "It migth also have to do with your heritage," her hand pushed your hair away from your neck. An oddly intimate gesture. ", you can really thank the Archons that he's your uncle.", you imagined blood trickling from your neck.

"So, I'll either be your wife and lose my pride, or" you left it for her to finish.

"Die with it.", she said, hard.

You saw the fire casting its glow over you, imaged its warmth on your back. It would be hard to dispose of your body. Esspecially with your uncle so near. Maybe she would kill you later. She'd definitely kill you later and make it look like an accident. And maybe she'd slowly let you bleed to death, you became acutely aware of the pain in your side. She'd cover it up. You looked up at her. But, if you agreed, you wouldn't have to fear for your life anymore. You'd have a deal. And Arlecchino was an honorable person that was keeping to her vows.

"Ok.", you mumble. "I'll quit my mission and be your wife, if you won't kill me."

"Good girl." Arlecchino mocked to then remove the dagger from your throath. You huffed, getting on your knees as she heaved herself up.

You stayed down there for a while.

"Do you need-"

you held your hand up, your shoulders rising and falling irregularly as you breathed. She continued standing there, her hands in the pockets of her pants

"Well, I already did know that you have no stamina..." she mumbled and you blushed.

You glared up at her, but her expression was the same, before it turned alarming as she looked at your side. "Seems I did more damage than anticipated...", her hand grazed the wound and you hissed, clawing at the next best thing, which was, well, her. "Much more...", she almost seemed...worried.

"Don't lie. You wanted me to bleed out in case I wouldn't agree. It's far less suspicious...you could've blamed it on one of the stones or, what do I know, I'm dying over here!"

She lifted you to your feet and you leaned onto her side. "You talk a lot whenever your nervous..."

"Like hell! My family- oh archons my family.", horror flashed across your face and you stopped in your tracks. Your family. "Can you still kill me?"

"A deal is a deal, I'm afraid.", she said, hocking one arm under your legs and the under around your shoulders, you nearly chocked on your breath, feeling your side sting, clinging onto her jacket. She allowed it.

"Because they will murder me. I will bet my yarn on that! Where- where did you put my knife by the way? Can I get it back?"

Arlecchino huffed. "Not yet. When we are home. And I wish to know the location of you're other ones."

"What other ones?"

"I can also just look for them myself."

It had been worth a shot. "Under my closet, under my cushion and one in the drawers."

"What drawer?"

You shrugged. And she shook her head. "Oh, you are a horrible assasin."

You 'hmph', before being reminded of the open and growing wound on your side. "For fucks sake I really liked this dress."

She looked down, at the spreading blood, even her suit wasn't spared. Her eyebrows knitted together in worry, before a familiar figure stepped out of the building.

Uncle Pierro. Shit. You turned away from him, his most likely scrutinizing gaze, to lean against her chest instead and...your eyes felt so heavy. "Stay awake." Arlecchino shook you.

"Are you ok?", he stepped closer.

"She was hit by one of the stones, her waist is damaged and she is in dire need of care."

Why was it burning so badly? You've had wounds before but hell...this burned.

"Fuck.", you clinged onto her as the last of your adrenaline dissipated.

"There's urgency. She needs to be treated. Now." Well, she did know how to demand a room, or her supervisor for this matter.

She passed him and for the flicker of a second you saw worry in his eyes, with a glint of dissapointment, you squeezed your own shut.

"We can't get you back home in time...you have cryo powers, don't you?"

You nod, grabing for your vision, it appeared back in your hand, though your grip wasn't strong.

"Good."

She seemed to jump over rubble and avoid broken walls, by your judgment of the ligth atleast untill she sat you down. You fell half into the thing, your eyes darted from a stall to the white wall...

"Are we in the bathroom?", you croaked.

She didn't answer, soaking something in water. "Freeze the wound, ligthly."

"Are you ins-"

"Just do it."

You stared at her hazey figure. "I could die."

"Well you will certainly die when you don't freeze it, now, go.", she took your hand by force and guided it to your side.

"I take care of what is mine" you remembered her words and obscenities left your mouth as little shards of ice left your fingertips, entering the wound. She shook your wrist and you stopped. "Good...", she mumbled, her hand pressed the water soaked something around it. You swore more and your eyes screwed shut. And you couldn't force yourself to open them back up again. Like sleep.

You felt as she shook you on the shoulders. "Hey, don't fall asleep now."

"God damn you-" you hissed, clenching your fists. How long was this going to take?

"Can you wrap it up already?"

You heard something rip, before she came back up, a piece of fabric in her hand. Black. From your dress.

"On it...", she mumbled and you felt as she wrapped the piece around your mid, so aggressively that it could count as a corset.

"Do you want to kill me?"

"Not anymore.", she picked you back up again and you yelped. "Now let's get you to a proper doctor-" You heard the door open again. A familiar muffled voice.

Several ones, a shift in ligth, Arlecchino calling your name, before everything eventually turned to black.

[terriblefaun]

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐊𝐨𝐨𝐤 - RAFE/READER

cw. mentions drink, drugs,rafe lowk being a lil softie in this chapter, jj angst, mentions r having a bad home life. SLOW BURN. more set up than story atp. lots of f word! from the uk i cant help it x

3.7k words. part 1/? (had to divide it up cos the whole thing was killing my phone! so lmk if u acc want the next one !! <3) also not proof read! love u xx

It was the third time that morning that JJ had brought it up. You hadn’t hung out properly for ages since you moved and still it was all he could go on about. Pope had been kind enough to jump in at one point, making sure to tell you that he didn't think of you any different. Which you had appreciated, but that was about as brave as anyone got when it came to standing up to JJ or defending you.

Without Kie here you were playing 3:1 and losing bad.

John B, shyly at first and then with a confidence that surprised you, agreed with his best friend. “You are a little different now that you live on the Eight, i mean, for one: you're late all the time-”

“-Cos it takes me forever to get here!”

“-And, like, that kook fit you always wear…”

“My uniform?” You huff, exasperated. It really was pointless to argue but for fuck sake, surely you’d put up with it for long enough? It was summer, you'd come to JB’s for a little escape, a little friendship and a cold beer, but you’ve been here two hours already and all anyone had talked about was that damn kook academy, how it was going to change you- how it had already changed Kie. Like that was the worst thing in the world. 

JJ opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “Can you just shut up? Please just fucking shut up about it already. You're going on and on and its driving me fucking crazy, J. Just stop.” 

It was clear this pissed him off, but his face softened from anger to offense, and then finally to a sarcastic smile. “Fine, whatever the princess wants.”

“Oh, you're such a p-” but you stopped yourself with a tired laugh. You didn't want to fight. Not again, not now. You were still exhausted from the last one - the one that ended with Kie crying and walking home alone, despite you going after her. You hadn't heard from her since. 

“What? Pogue? Is that what you were gonna say, huh? I’m such a fucking pogue!”

“Piece of shit, Jayj! I was gonna call you a fucking piece of shit! Cos you are! You can't just be happy for me can you-”

 “Happy?” JJ asks like you really are out of your mind,  like he can't even begin to imagine a silver lining to this situation. 

“Yeah, cos Kie’s finally getting along with her mom again, and for the first time in my life i don't have to worry about making rent payments or where the hell my mom is and i finally have a step dad that doesn't fucking hate me! Can you just think about that for a fucking minute, JJ, can you really not image why that might be of some relief to us? Huh?”

He doesn't say anything, which might actually be worse. 

Your eyes had started to sting with tears and you turned away from your friends to hold your face in your hands. It was hot to the touch and your head hurt. You really didn't want to start crying.

Pope and John B were sat quietly on the sofa like two kids waiting for the parents to stop arguing. Why weren't they saying anything? Is this really how they all felt- like you weren't theirs anymore? Like you had betrayed them somehow? 

You snivelled, sighed and turned to look JJ in the eyes. Despite the tugging at his heart, he refused back down.

 It pissed you off to see him still standing there with his shoulders squared and a hard look on his face. He was so far from the boy you were used to, the soft, funny one you had grown up and felt safe with. How do you even get back to that? Really, you knew the answer was to say sorry, but like hell that was gonna happen. Despite the fact you had nothing to apologise for, you were cursed with the same stubbornness as he was. You were two juuls in a pod, or whatever the saying was.

And then, a thought. A terrible, mean thought.

“You’re just jealous, that's it.”

There's a sudden look on JJ’s face that you've never seen before. It scares you almost enough to back down, but you stay tough.  He laughs.

“Such a fucking kook thing to say i mean, c’mon!” JJ gestures to Pope and JB like they're gonna agree with him- and if given the chance to talk, they might but you don't dare to look over, just in case. “Yeah. Of course I'm jealous of you, princess. Jesus Christ, man, you’re so self absorbed! You fit right in with those dickheads on figure eight, you know that? You and kie, you're right where you belong.”

“You’re such a dick.” You swallow down all that venom you had just a minute ago, it stings, makes your vision blur. 

“Cos’ i’m telling the truth?" He says, "Just go home YN, fuck off back to the eight already ‘cos we don't want you here.”

“JJ-” Finally someone chimed in, though you couldn’t tell who, probably Pope again, but it didn’t matter anyway, right now there was no one else in the world except for you and JJ.

“I don’t want you here.” He says again in a low voice. Then, turning away, mumbles something you probably weren't actually meant to hear. Something sarcastic about your dad, how proud he'd be of how you're turning out.

You gasp. A direct hit, one you never expected he'd go for. The boys look up at you, not having caught it themselves.

But you had heard it. J saw you hear it. And it hurt. And he saw that it hurt. And he didn't seem to mind. He had the sense to look guilty for a split second but then there was that stubbornness again, mean and cold.

You stood there with your mouth open for a minute. Half waiting for him to rush out an apology, to call a time out like this was just a game you could stop playing and forget all about, and you could go back to how things were supposed to be.

JJ said nothing.

Fine. You storm off, slamming the chateau doors behind you and heading straight for your bike. It's a little vintage thing with a basket and ribbons, and you feel just a little ridiculous as you cycle angrily away.  I’ll show you a fucking kook princess. 

 

 Grand exit now complete, the adrenaline of whatever the hell just went down finally wears off halfway through town. Collapsing onto the sidewalk, tangling with your bike as you go down, you let yourself cry.

Not entirely sure how long you let yourself fall apart but time starts moving again when a car pulls up in front of you. The window rolls down and you look up at the sound of Bunny Wailer’s Mellow Mood coming from the speaker. 

 “Need a ride?” The driver shouts over the music.

“Kiwi. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling!”

“Sorry. Don’t cry about it,” she smiles, i am sorry, and nods towards the passenger side, “get in.” 

The warmth of the midday sun had dried your tears pretty quick, but your eyes were red and puffy and gave you away. Oh, YN. Kie mumbles once you're inside, turning the radio down and leaning across to hug you.

“Don’t worry, it’s Jay that's made me cry, not you.” You choke out a wet laugh and pull your hoodie up over your face for a second. “I’ll be fine in a minute, really, i’ll be fine.”

She sighs decidedly, giving you a once over. "Nah, i know what you need.” 

You side eye her, unsure. "Kook party." She explains and you cringe. Sarah, a friend Kie had already made at the academy, had invited her and in turn she was inviting you. As if I'd wanna be there without you.

"C'mon. Big house, free booze, no JJ."

"OK. Sold."

Kiara’s bedroom is likely to be your favourite place on earth, though you never get to spend a lot of time there as it also happens to be one of her least favourites. You don't even know what it is that makes it so great, her bed is soft and plush but too small for two, so sleepovers are always spent uncomfortably squished between her, her plushies, and the wall. And the only CD’s she has are reggae, which you don't mind, and indie rock shit you've never heard of and can't stand.

Maybe it was just because her house was so totally not yours. Maybe that's why you liked it. 

You’re in front of her bathroom mirror, chewing on your bottom lip, brows furrowed and arms crossed when Sarah comes up behinds you to ask what you're thinking. “I think…. I need to go blonde.”

Her eyes light up, “Like Buffy Summers Blonde or-”

“-Baywatch blonde.”

“Baywatch blonde…” she repeated in a whisper, an excited smile on her face. “Dude, yeah. That'd be so hot.”

She let out an excited squeak, and that was that. The make over was immediate. You dyed your hair then and there in Kie's en suit. Then she picked out an outfit while Sarah did you make up. Pamela Anderson or...Jennifer Aniston? she had asked.

"Which ones more kook?" Aniston was decided upon, though with the bikini you'd borrowed from Kie and the short denim skirt and black cami you wore, you ended up a bit more Pamela anyway.

It's gonna be rager, said Sarah, It’s at Alice’s boyfriend’s friend’s beach house, or something like that. Kiara seemed to know all these people already, so you nodded and smiled and pretended you did too.

"I have to go home quick, you know, put a bag together, let my mom know i'm still alive."

"You want us to drop you off?" Sarah had asked, sweet as she was you could tell she wanted to stay playing dress up for a while longer, so you declined.

"Just text me the address, i'll meet you there."

 

To no surprise at all, your mom wasn’t home. You thought best not to leave a note or text her, lest she remember she had a daughter and suddenly decide to parent it. 

You went up to your room on the top floor and put together a bag. Perfume, lip gloss, $50, a rollie and some gum. The essentials. You dug out the half empty tequila bottle you and kie kept tucked away in your pj drawer, and poured out a shot for yourself. Then another. Cheers, you thought, to going full kook. 

9:15 PM and you were out the door, instantly regretting your choice to meet them at the party- having to cycle there on your bicycle in the worlds shortest denim skirt was not the most comfortable experience. But alas, you looked as good as you felt, and it might have been the tequila but you felt pretty fucking good. 

Kiwi where are you??

KIE!!!! im here. they have jello shots where r u

i cant fudnd u guys anyebere

KIARBRA!!!!!!!!!

You'd been at the party for little over an hour, far too drunk already but having a great time. Despite not yet having found Kie or Sarah. You had, however, recognised a few girls from the academy and most of them had recognised you too, despite your new hair and new found friendliness towards them, they knew you. 

Another half an hour of slurred compliments and dizzy dance moves and you begin to feel the alcohol wear off, a tragedy that must be remedied if you're to socialise with these people any longer. How much longer? Where the fuck was Kie?

You’re making your way through the kitchen towards the back yard in hopes of somewhere quiet to call your friend, when a figure steps out in front of you. “You look like a malibu and coke kinda girl, right?” 

He seems nice enough, towering over you but not making you feel trapped. He’s got a polo shirt on, clearly recently ironed, and a big drunk smile on his face. Am I a Malibu girl? You thought, that’s rum, right? What the hell, sure.

“How could you tell?” 

“Sweet girl like yourself, how could it be anything else?”

Sweet. That's something you haven't been called before. It makes you feel a bit soft in the middle, clearly a line, but working on you nonetheless. “Oh, I like you.”

His smile widens, eyes almost closed, and goes to speak again but is interrupted by another mystery boy before he can reply. “Is this guy bothering you?” He says, slow and deep with a cocky smile, one arm slung over the first guys shoulder. He looks at you, leans in close like he’s telling you a secret. “Sorry ‘bout my friend Top here, S’like a puppy, not been properly socialised yet.” 

“Hey thats- I was just offering the new girl a drink.” He says, holding up a red solo cup with what you assume is a malibu and coke inside. 

“Allow me.” Says the second guy, taking the cup from Top’s hand and offering it to you. 

“Thanks-” You laugh, half forgotten by the boys already. You look between them as they go back and forth with each other, a drunk scene clearly played many times before, and take a sip of your drink. God. Yeah, Definitely rum. 

"You shouldn't encourage them." A soft voice says. Where had he come from? had he been here the whole time?

"I'm sorry?"

"They're like strays," he explains, nodding towards the boys, "show 'em a bit of attention and they'll just keep coming back."

You turn to face him completely. He's gorgeous- clearly knows it too- but the spot lights of the kitchen make halos around him. He copies your movement and only then do you realise just how close he's standing.

“Rafe.” He offers after a long moment of you saying nothing. “Rafe Cameron.” 

You stop your drooling and straighten up.

“Cameron?”  Why did that sound familiar? A smug smile creeps onto his face and you watch it drop comically fast as you ask your next question. “Sarah's brother? Oh, shit, have you seen her?” You ask, looking around, but it’s Boy 1 that answers. 

“S’not here,” Top sighs, suddenly drawn back into the conversation. “Something about… baby turtles or something, i don't know.”

“You know my sister.” Rafe says to you, ignoring Top.

“Yeah, well, kind of. Not really. I was supposed to meet her here.” 

“Well…she’s not here,” Rafe tilts his head with a smile and watches you think. Great, so I've been ditched. Double ditched. Bitches. He thinks you look a little offended, but not altogether disappointed.  His little smile grows, plotting. “-but i can take care of you.”

You look up at him in all his 6’3 sun kissed glory. He’s standing close enough that you can smell his aftershave, the bitterness of whatever he’s been drinking, and the faintest smell of sunscreen applied hours ago. The thought of him putting on suncream at all makes you smile. You watch the way his shirt stretches around his bicep as he leans on the counter behind, the way his hand dwarfs the red solo cup it holds, the way his eyes blink slow and steady, lashes kissing his cheeks.

 “Yeah, I bet you can.”

“She said she likes me.” Top chimes in, previous Sarah related heartbreak forgotten. 

“Topper, you're drunk, just… go find Sarah.” Rafe says, grabbing him by the shoulders and pointing him in some other direction. Boy 2 is tugged along behind by some invisible string, and off they go looking for Sarah.

“Let me know if you find her!” You shout after them, Boy 1 turns, salutes in your vague direction, and then disappears in the crowd of other drunk polo shirt wearing kooks. 

Rafe turns to you, shrugging his shoulders with a smile that dimples his cheeks, “Looks like it's just us.”

You click your tongue. “I was actually on my way out.” Why am I playing hard to get? 

“Oh, you don't wanna do that.”

“No?” Tell me to stay and I will. 

“Nah,” he starts, drawing out the words quiet and slow, “You wanna stay here with me allll night.” 

Thank you. But instead you say, “Here? With you? All night?” is a voice thats sweetly mocking. The apples of your cheeks turn pink with a grin. You down the contents of the cup Top had given you, trying your best not to scrunch up your face, “Well you best get me another drink then.” 

He takes the cup from you without breaking eye contact. Was he always so intense with it? Paired with the barely visible but constant grin he’d had this entire time, you worried maybe he could read your mind. Your eyes shot down to his hands again. Please god don't be reading my mind. 

“I’ll be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere.” You look up at him through your lashes, giving him your best Jessica Rabbit, which seems to be working. 

“I’ll be right here.”

You turn to leave, pointing quick to the plastic cup, “-No Malibu!”

 The bathroom door was unlocked, which is why you surprised to find it occupied by three girls huddled around the counter. “Oh, sorry-” you turn to leave but have already caught their attention, one reaches out to you in a instant. 

“YN!” She slurs out, looking up at you through lidded eyes. It’s one of the girls youd danced with earlier- Lacey or Lexi or something. Whoever she is, theres a smile on her face that lets you know she’d totally wasted. Not just drunk either.

 “Did I see you talking to The Rafe Cameron out there?” She squeals, drawing the attention of the other two girls. A couple of ‘oh my gods’ are whispered as they huddle around you, desperate for more information.

“I Just-” 

“Is he a good kisser?”

“I Don’t-”

“Are you gonna hook up with him?”

You bark out a laugh. “Fuck, girls, I only just met him!”

“So? Are you?” They continue to pester, unfazed and looking up at you with shining, excitable eyes, like kids on christmas morning.  

You're smiling hard and trying to think of something to say. Fuck it, lets go with honesty. “Maybe, yeah.” 

They squeak again and they grab at you, pulling you towards the bathroom mirror. One girls hand goes straight to your hair, curling a single piece with her finger, neatening it up the best she can. Another reaches for her bag, the clatter of makeup can be heard as she fumbles. She comes at you then with a powder brush. They’re all talking over each other and it's hard to make out exactly what is being said by any of them. I knew a girl that slept with him once/i heard he cant get it up unless you call him mr cameron/really cos amy said- 

It’s then that you see the thin white lines of powder neatly waiting on the black marble counter. Ah, you think, well that makes sense. 

 Rafe is standing outside the bathroom when you open the door, he pushes himself off the wall casually like you haven't just kept him waiting entirely too long. His eyebrows raise as you step out with three girls following very close behind. They're all giggles and lazy grins and so are you. 

“...Are you high?” You bite your lip to keep from smiling.

Tsk tsk tsk. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you get high. I can't take you anywhere.” 

“I wish you would take me somewhere...” You say, confusing yourself, and then “isn't it so hot in here?”

“Right." He laughs, "Outside.” But he’s already reaching for your hand when he says this. He’s gentle, not like the girls in the bathroom had suggested. He’s leading you off towards the big patio doors, red plastic cups forgotten on a side table somewhere behind you. You plod along next to him, doing as you're told.

You couldn't even guess how long you'd been sat out in the garden with him. Forever, maybe. You mumble out a thank you, trying not to sound embarrassed. Mostly you just felt bad for him being on babysitting duty. If only Kie was here.

“S’fine. Happens to most people the first time they try blow.” You don't even attempt to protest, just laugh. Your cool girl exterior was screwed the second he had introduced himself. Your makeover had been great, blonde bombshell of your dreams, unfortunately you were still yourself underneath it all. Which isn't to say that you were insecure, or shy, just that you had always folded far too easily for a pretty face. And Rafe had a very pretty face. 

And to his credit, or maybe to yours, he didn’t seem any less interested in you now that you were both sobering up, significantly less cool and mysterious but still beautiful. 

You're lying on the grass when he asks, “So…are you gonna tell me your name or what?”

Ha! Looking up at him from where he stands over you, you smile sweetly, like you hadn't just spent ten minutes trying not to vomit on his shoes, like you're meeting him for the very first time, “YN.”

Rafe  repeats your name quietly to himself like he’s trying to figure something out. “Do I know you?”

You smile, “I don't think so. Not really.” to be fair, he and jj happened to rarely pick fights when you were around, and he was older than you by maybe two or three years, you weren't sure, so it's unlikely your paths would have crossed outside that.

“Mhm. not really, huh? Do I get a hint?”

“No.”

He sighs, thinking like you gave him a clue anyway. “You definitely live on the island?”

“All my life!” You say, accidentally playing along. Sobering, but not sober. 

“I don't know…” He bends down next to you, one hand reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, it lingers there and you try your best not to lean into it, fail miserably, and look up at him. “I think i’d remember this face.” 

You blush, he probably notices but you tilt your head back and close your eyes. Embarrassed, yes, playing it cool, maybe. You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Apparently not.” 

He laughs. Damn, Definitely noticed the blush. “Seriously, how can I not have met you before?”

While this was fun, you were drunk. And when you were drunk there was always a silly voice in the back of your head telling you sad things. Right now it was telling you how disappointed  he was going to be when he found out who you were- or rather, what you were. A pogue. “I don't wanna play anymore.” 

“No?” He asks, a little condescending, like he was talking to a child, but there was something about it that you liked. You shake your head ever so slightly, no. 

“Want to go home?” The question surprises you. Were they your only options, play nicely or get sent home? No, you shake your head again. 

“So then do as you’re told.” He says softly, testing the waters. He stands, taking your hand and you let him pull you up with him. There's a moment where you're pressed against his chest, and he’s looking down at you, his eyes dark under the moonlight, where you think he might kiss you. And maybe he would have if you’d have been good. 

For the first time in your life you desperately want to be good. 

“Let’s go.” It seems you're being let off with a warning. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as Rafe leads you down the side of the house and into the front yard, unlocking his car.