#apologies this went on longer than intended

[tsukuhoe]

13. who's the cute boy with the white sweatshirt

the coffee shop buzzed with its usual morning rush, the scent of espresso mingling in the air. you stepped inside the coffee shop, your sundress swayed lightly with the movement. a soft white rosalia midi sundress dotted with a yellow floral print seemed to carry a piece of summer into the shop. you glanced at your watch— enough time before the table read started. 

you walked up to the register, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you studied the menu. 

“good morning!” the barista greeted you. “what can i get for you?” 

“hmm,” you murmured, your voice soft but thoughtful. “a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a rose cold foam, please.” 

“right. your order will be soon! love your dress by the way, has anyone told you that you look a lot like y/n l/n?” 

“yes...! i get that a lot! thank you.” 

as you waited, your eyes wandered, taking in the shop's interior. your gaze brushed over a familiar-looking raven-haired man with multiple facial piercings and gauges. his hair was tied ​​half up and for a brief moment, your eyes met. you smiled, the kind of small, polite smile you give a stranger, but it felt like a spark anyway. 

when your drink was ready, you picked it up, fingers curling delicately around the cup. as you turned toward the door, your shoulder collided with someone. the next thing you knew, your latte was splashed across the floor and the person’s white sweatshirt. 

“fuck, i’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, panicking at the mess you made. looking up to see the guy you spilt your latte on. his purple eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you forgot about the sticky, rapidly cooling liquid soaking into his clothes. 

“no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the words came out more irritated than he intended. “i wasn’t paying attention.” 

“neither was i,” you admitted, setting your cup down on a nearby table. “here, let me help.” you grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter and handed him a few, keeping the rest to blot the floor. 

he stood and ran a hand through his messy dark hair as you got on your knees, trying to wipe the hem on his sweatshirt, hoping it wouldn’t stain the white. his face flushing, then turning it away from your downward view. your sundress’s cleavage gave an invasive view from the angle and the position you were in didn’t help his mind to not lead to sexual thoughts. 

“i feel terrible. how much was this sweater? i’ll pay for it.” you asked, still focused on the stain. 

“you know, normally, people would ask for an autograph instead of offering money.” he chuckled, grabbing your arm and picking you up to look at him. 

“huh? i’m sorry, i don’t quite understand...." he smirked. then it clicked. you realized who you were looking at. "wait, are you suguru geto?” 

“the one and only,” he nodded with a sweet smile on his face. “and you’re y/n l/n, right? i’ve seen you a few times on the news and radio.” 

you eagerly nodded back. this was the suguru geto. the one that played a huge part in the indie music industry. the one that went on an indefinite hiatus five years ago. 

“can i buy you another drink?” he asked, snapping you out of your shocked state. you hesitated, glancing at your watch. you were going to be late if you waited any longer. fuck. “i don’t really have time—”

“or,” he interrupted, holding up a hand, “you could take this.” the raven-haired slid a sleek, black stainless steel tumbler across the counter towards you.

you frowned. “what’s this?”

“my coffee. black, no sugar,” he said, a sheepish grin tugging at his pierced lips. “i’m a little obsessed with punctuality, so i always leave early. you, on the other hand, seem like you’re cutting it close.”

you stared at him, a mix of gratitude and disbelief swirling in her chest. “you’re just… giving me your coffee?”

“think of it as an apology.”

you accepted the tumbler reluctantly. “okay, but only if you let me pay you back for that sweater.”

“deal,” he said, slipping a card out of his wallet and scribbling something on the back with a pen from his pocket. “here’s my number. text me when you’ve got time, and we’ll call it even.”

album bonus tracks: — SUGURU !!! — i have this huge hc of suguru having facial piercings n tats — he has an eyebrow piercing, snake bites, labret piercing, industrial, helix (and tits!) pierced! — and tats are placed on his upper left arm to neck <33 (idk if u can tell but i love body decor) — also on the topic of piercings n tats, choso has SO MANY (which we'll talk about some other time) — excited to update more (if u couldn't tell by my little spree lately) ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT  ⋮

. ꒷ TAG LIST .ᐟ.ᐟ [CLOSED 50/50] @celloccino @shokosbunny @nymphsdomain @alpha-mommy69 @soulairess @poopooindamouf @reyna-isabellaa @justamina-blog @koreluvsspring @mayhemfellasleep @clamousera @roxy776699 @l-ilysm @ayla-1605 @kaemaybae @starmapz @gigiiiiislife @puppyminnnie @desideityy @yuhig-blog @kaiiibxby @ami20019 @kentochronicles @missthatgirl @lauuriiiz @emi311 @lunavelha @coffeeisbehindyou @freakadelick @theclassbookworm @ladytamayolover @tojirin @fuckisthatahotghost @odxrilove @perqbeth @rxi-n-lyche3 @sugoroo @mentallyunpresent @naviaberries @wil10wthetree @thesharkcollector @harryzcherry @ghost-buddies @tearshedder @mourn1ng-dov3 @hellokittyish @good-mourning0 @shoma-nom @elegancefr @norikuna

[aerospectrum]

Dean watched her from the side of his eyes when she attempted to snack on the sandwich but quit only two bites in. Guilt seemed to be a recurring theme for them both and when Madison apologized again all Dean could do was shrug and shake his head. “It’s fine, it’s not a big deal- it didn’t hurt, you didn’t hurt me.” He insisted a bit too much; lying. Lying because her slap actually had hurt and it left the skin feeling like pins and needles due to the cold around them.

Dean felt a slight panic crawl up his throat when she got off the couch; fess that she hated him enough that she’d try her best to leave, even if it meant crawling away. But then she was at his knees, arms wrapped round his legs like she’d cease to exist if she let go. “Madison…” he spoke her name. “It’s.. it’s fine. Really it’s fine it’s- I wasn’t hurt.” He protested more, a light flush to his cheeks, only feeling half bad for sticking to that lie. When she fell asleep Dean listened to her breathing for a long time; longer than he needed to. Mostly scared she’d jumpstart awake and go running out of the house and turn her back on him for good. “I’m sorry I stood you up.” He spoke quietly.

he felt safer explaining the situation with her knocked out. He could give her a halfassed explanation when she came to. “I’m not still hooked on Castiel, but the idiot went and got himself in a situation with your ex… the er took a lot longer than I thought it would and he wouldn’t let me tell you what happened. He kept saying you’d think he started it or that he got hurt to keep me from you… maybe he wasn’t too far off on that one though. He made me promise five different times that I wouldn’t tell you, guess I break my word with him too much too. I’m sorry I stood you up; I really wanted to go out with you tonight. I wanted to get fancied up and see you waiting out on the curb for me. I’m sorry I’m not any different from the rest of the trash you’ve dated, I’m really sorry.” His voice wavered and cracked a bit and he was grateful Madison was asleep to not hear it.

By the time morning came, Dean had hoisted Madison up from her kneeling position on the floor to one where she was lying half against him half atop him. His arm was flopped over the soft small of her back the other linked with her arm and he didn’t even stir when Madison came to from her wild binging adventure at Benny’s bar top. He fully intended to rip Benny a new one for getting her that drunk.

Madison didn’t put up a fight the second time Dean scooped her up in his arms. Even in a fuzzy state of mind, she couldn’t deny how safe she felt in his arms. And that’s why she pressed her forehead against the crook of his neck & inhaled his scent deeply.

The car ride made her feel yucky inside. Each bump, or turn made her stomach flip. Even when she curled in her seat held her stomach & leaned her head against the wall, she couldn’t escape the gnawing feeling. So when the car slowed to a steady stop, she took a shaky breath of relief. Once again she was in deans arms & it was perfect -almost perfect-. He laid her on the couch & she curled up again causing the fabric of her dress to bunch up.

Dean had disappeared allowing Madison to sleep for few minutes. It’s truly wondrous how much a 30 minute nap calmed her down. Sure it brought on the nagging feeling in her head, but she didn’t feel like she was on the brink of vomiting anymore. “Thank you.” She whispered when he set the tray down.

Madison managed to take 2 bites of the sandwich before setting it down, & tucking her hands under the head acting like a pillow. “I’m sorry i hit you.” Her voice was small but loud enough to hear & her eyes stayed focused on Dean. But it wasn’t enough to apologize to him, she pushed off the couch, & weakly crawled to deans legs. The room was spinning & the only thing that felt somewhat normal was the way her hands felt touching the carpet.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” She leaned her cheek on his knee. “I… I don’t think I’ll be able to make it home.” Her sense of direction was not good sober, imagine her drunk? She shut her she’s ran her hands up his legs until his mother

“I didn’t should t have slapped you.” Her eyes fluttered close, & she managed to asleep leaning against his legs, & holding on for dear life.

When she woke up, her head was pounding. Her eyes bloodshot, head still spinning, & stomach churning from the sugary drink the night before .

[asexualandalwaysshipping]

My personal gripe when it comes to shipping culture isn't just when people choose to hate on other ships that aren't their otp, but when they choose to be purposely obtuse as to why people may ship a certain pair despite the "ethics" of the relationship. "But that relationship is so inappropriate!" It's the same issue where people just assume because you interact with a certain piece of media, it must mean you support everything that media portrays, as though critical thinking doesn't exist anymore.

I just saw a post where someone was going on about how they don't understand how people can ship catwin because of the age difference and power dynamic and called people who shipped them "weird." That's just such an unfair conclusion, considering the show itself does not attempt to hide the fact that there is supposed to be clear chemistry and attraction between Edwin and the Cat King. So you're going to criticize people for literally responding the way the writers intended? It's not as though this person doesn't actually understand why people ship catwin — they just wanted to frame it as though people either purposely ignore the supposed "age difference" or support power imbalances when it's obvious catwin appeals to people because of the dynamic the characters have with each other. The attraction towards Catwin isn't centered on the power imbalance at all — it's about the character's interactions and the way one complements the other.

If we're looking at a more controversial ship, Sebaciel has much more problematic elements to it, with Ciel being a literal child. But it's not as though you can't understand why it's a ship when the author is so obvious about how the relationship is meant to be suggestive. The ship has aspects to it beyond the pedophilia. It's not as though people who ship Sebaciel support everything about it, but the chemistry between Sebastian and Ciel, which again, is purposefully placed there, has appeal.

I personally, am not a supporter of Zutara. For me, it just seems like too obvious of a pairing what with fire always being associated with water and all. But not just that, I just don't like the idea of a relationship based on forgiving and falling in love with someone who had an active role in the terrorizing of your people. Zuko literally threatens Katara's village in the first episode. Yes, he's redeems himself and I do like him as a character, but for me, it's difficult to ignore when considering him as a love interest for Katara. But I'm not going around calling all Zutura shippers problematic for shipping these two, because I have enough sense to know why people ship them. It's a classic enemies to lovers. They clearly care for each other. There are parallels in their individual personal journeys that complement each other. I get it.

It's just really ignorant to act as though a ship has to be completely unproblematic in order to justify the support or to only see a ship for its most offensive aspects. Different fandoms hold different standards, and we tend to cherry-pick what we support in order to push our own agendas/ships, so not only is hating on ships unnecessary, it's hypocritical.

[rocksanddeadflowers]

I know I literally just shit posted about the beast from Pellinore and The Beast but in all seriousness i LOVE picturing the beast like if the Neverbeast from those Tinkerbell movies got Drumbot'd. Do you understand what I mean?? Please??? Beast of iron but!! But like!!! Gentle giant beast!!! It's bark is worst than it's bite so everyone thinks it's violent but it's just building and preparing for slumber or whatever and and ....... Idk it's been a while since I've actually seen Neverbeast but you literally can never forgot those soft sorrowful eyes man.

At the end of the song when Pellinore catches up, aiming her gun, the Beast simply complies. It's hulking form stares down with eyes that speak of eons, of deep wisdom, and an almost deeper sorrow and loneliness. It has no one, so Creation is it's comfort as it walks our waking world. Still, there is a soft kindness there, something that speaks beyond the claws and spikes and plates and teeth, that speaks you are safe with me. Pellinore looks into those eyes, and begins to shake as all at once, she understands.

The Beast bows it's head then, to allow Pellinore to do what she spent forty years of her mortal life in search of. Everything freezes for a moment, and her eyes catch scars - bullet dents, deep scratches - then the things it had built, beauty indescribable, a human heart and soul spills through the crevasses. She lowers her gun, and tears bubble over as it finally slips from her hands to the floor. The Beast looks up slowly, face unchanged as it inches closer, and gently bumps it's head into her, trying to comfort her. A wet laugh escapes her, and they embrace.

[moonlight-prose]

smut prompt #8 for logan 👀💗

forty five minutes in the closet

a/n: not me literally writing this in right where you left me ch4. hilarious and iconic timing, because i was fighting the urge to just have them fuck full on in that closet. so here's my chance to do just that. for funsies i'm shoving it into that universe. do not look at me for using that gif. i literally can't deny myself the sight.

summary: an alternative scene to what really happened in that closet.

OR wade wilson forces logan to play seven minutes in heaven. (it was longer than seven minutes if we're being honest.)

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, exhibitionism, dirty talk, logan is filthy af and we love that, spit, fingering sort of, p in v sex, quickie, rough sex, biting, he's down bad for his honey what can i say, panty gag, a formal apology for how fucking horny and unhinged this is.

The closet felt smaller than intended—even as your back was pressed to the wall hard enough to feel the cracks in the drywall that stretched to the ceiling. Laughter filtered through the thin wooden door as Wade told yet another joke about shit you couldn't discern. Even if you asked him to explain, you'd still be confused come morning.

Logan leaned heavily against his side of the closet. Approximately two feet of space between you. The tips of your shoes touched his boots. The faint scent of cigar smoke still lingered from where he ripped it out and tossed it in an ashtray. You wouldn't have cared if he smoked in here. You might have asked for a puff.

He insisted on keeping the air clean in case you had to breathe.

Wade claimed you were playing seven minutes in heaven. Seven minutes of alone time with the man who made your head spin. In a proximity close enough to feel the heat of his body from where you stood. Although you'd been standing there for four minutes (you were keeping count via the watch on Logan's wrist) and the group seemed to have forgotten about the both of you entirely.

"Do you—um—know what usually happens here?"

A smile curved on his lips—eyes scrutinizing you with a look that told you he was teasing you. "Yeah. I do. I'm old, not stupid."

"I just wanted to make sure..." In a swift move you barely saw, he rose to his full height and crossed the invisible line holding the two of you on opposing sides. "Oh–"

"Honey." His voice was low, yet you felt as if he was screaming in your ear.

"Yes?" you breathed—eyes fixed on the way his chest took up your space. His flannel was stretched across it and for a moment you wondered if you started salivating at the sight.

"Are you nervous?"

Another raucous round of laughs broke through the darkness that surrounded you. But you could barely hear them over the echo of your own heart. It hammered loudly against your chest—quickening the closer he got. The more his large frame began to engulf you in a warmth you only dreamed of. You clamored to come up with a response, to flippantly push off his advance with a tease of your own.

His hands pressing on either side of your head to the wall behind you killed every ounce of bravery you had left. All your worries and thoughts about what lay on the other side of that door were extinguished. Logan leaned down, his nose brushed yours, and inhaled deep enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

"I can smell you," he rumbled. "Sweet like honey."

A searing heat built beneath your skin, burning from your cheeks down to the tips of your toes. Your mouth opened—words still fighting to be formed—but he didn't need an answer. Not when he could smell the arousal that pooled between your thighs. How you subtly shifted to find a bit of friction in the hopes of something more.

"You mind if I kiss you bub?"

A piece of you fractured in the darkness of that closet—settling comfortably in his own chest. You might ask for it back after all of this, but Logan felt his chances of you walking out as his were growing the longer this went on.

Glancing up—eyes wide and darkened with lust—you bit back the whine that crawled up the back of your throat. "They'll hear us."

He shrugged, shifting close enough for you to almost taste the whiskey off his lips. "Good."

"Logan–"

Lips pressed to your cheek, drawing a soft sigh from your parted mouth. "Somethin' tells me they're just waiting for it." His hand left the wall to trail along your waist, dipping slowly with a kiss to the corner of your lips. "And somethin' also tells me...you like that idea."

It's not as if you were entirely opposed to the idea. Actually most nights (if not every night) was spent with you imagining what it would be like to feel him this way. To be stretched with his cock so much you would feel a delicious burn.

You craved it.

He knew solely from the wanton look on your face. The way your eyes fluttered the further his hand went.

"You gonna let me in or what honey?" he cooed, fingers dipping beneath your skirt to seek out the slick that soaked the lace of your underwear.

Surely the seven minutes had run out, leaving the both of you to make a choice. Stay here and keep going for everyone to catch you. Or walk out, find a room, and continue this in private.

The thought of waiting a second longer snapped at your heels with an air of impatience you let consume you. What the fuck did it matter if they heard you getting fucked against the wall? What did it matter if you'd never live this down as long as you lived?

How could you actually think about shame when Logan's fingers were pressed against your dripping cunt, seeking out your clit through the thin fabric that divided you.

Sagging against the wall with a soft moan, you gripped his flannel in your fist and yanked his lips to yours. He groaned, falling into your body and effectively pinning you to the wall, as his tongue met yours. And suddenly you realized...you liked how whiskey tasted off of his tongue.

He devoured you with the kiss, swallowing each moan and stunted whine as his fingers made quick work of finding your clit. Rubbing quick circles, he plunged his tongue into your mouth - licking at your teeth with a fervor that seeped down into your stomach. It was messy. His spit mixed with yours, staining the skin of your cheek. Your slick coated the inside of your thighs as he pushed the fabric into you roughly.

Yet none of it felt enough to ease the ache that spread rapidly down to the tips of your fingers. Your heart twisted as he gripped the back of your neck—leading you in a kiss that divulged down to nothing but teeth and spit.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your leg hooking around his hip, in the hopes of dragging him closer. To feel the hard bulge against the rough denim of his jeans.

"Look at you," he mumbled against your cheek. "All pretty and leakin' for me."

A sharp burst of need pulled tight at your stomach—the breath torn from your lungs. "Inside–"

He smiled. "C'mon honey. Use that smart head of yours. Gimme some words."

His words were a brutal tease that scraped against your skin. Yet that coupled with his fingers that seemed to hold an edge of desperation, left you gasping for air. Fingers dug into his shirt, lips found his in the hollow darkness, and you begged for mercy. This was your penance. The altar he intended to bend you across.

Oh how you longed for him to follow through.

"Fuck me," you managed to get out between sharp intakes of breath and heady kisses. "Please Logan. It hurts.

The sound that emanated from deep in his chest could only be described as feral. You'd never heard him like that before. Bordering on the line of unhinged and sanity. A flare of want pulled at your body, echoing loudly in your chest.

You wanted to hear it again. To feel him break beneath your palms as he rutted into you with need. You ached to watch him whittle himself down to the barest of his senses. The animalistic urge of lust he kept hidden for weeks on end.

"Yeah?" His words were a snarl against your ear, teeth scraping your jaw as he ripped his hand away. "'M gonna make it better. Gonna take away the pain."

Nails scratched at the back of his neck when you heard his claws slide out—cutting through the fabric that clung to you. It was sopping wet; proof that you hadn't in fact been lying about your need. Logan felt his cock leak in his jeans at the sight—how your slick clung to his fingers as he swiped along the gusset.

"All for me," he sighed.

"Uh-huh." If you thought you sounded needy before, that was nothing compared to this moment.

He eyed you briefly. The hazel you'd grown fond of now dark and clouded with lust. The plea for more lay on the tip of your tongue—ready to be laved against his skin the longer he took. But then he brought the fabric to his mouth, his tongue running across it with a broken groan. The breath was punched from your lungs—legs shaking as a wave of slick poured out of you.

"Oh fuck–" you gasped, cupping his chin to catch his lips in a kiss.

The clink of his belt buckle echoed like a gunshot in the small space. Your heart began to race. Fingers shaking as you watched him tug his cock free; fisting the red and leaking tip with a throaty moan. Saliva filled your mouth at the mere thought of him sliding between your lips. The image of him feeding you his cock with a smile.

He fanned the flames of your simmering fire, offering you pleasure with ease.

His hand gripped your other leg, positioning it over his hip before pushing you up along the wall. The yelp was muffled by his lips; your hands finding purchase against his hot skin.

"Gotta be real quiet now bub," he mumbled, sliding his cock along your drenched cunt.

The head tapped against your clit once, twice. By the third time your teeth were dug into your bottom lip so hard copper burst on your tongue.

"I promise."

He chuckled, breathless. You joined.

The compact space stretched out before you, expanding with each joined breath and laugh. Passion intertwined in your chest, reaching for him with a tender touch of reverence. And nothing existed but the two of you.

"Hey Logan."

His cock jumped at the sound of your voice so light and airy. "Yeah honey?"

"If I don't tell you after this." Your hips canted into his, grinding towards where he positioned himself. "I had a really nice time tonight."

His heart fluttered as your words settled into his skin—soaking up your warmth. "Me too."

The laughter diminished the second he pushed forward, sliding into you with a slickened thrust that left his body shuddering. You swallowed the sob that wrenched from your chest when he kept going. Stretching you until you felt the burn begin to seep into your body. You weren't prepared for how addicting it felt; how mindless he made you.

Seven minutes had surely blended into fifteen, giving the group no doubt of what you were doing. That only solidified when he bottomed out and you moaned so loud it nearly gave him a heart attack. His fingers clamored for something in his pocket—his lips sliding against yours to silence the endless whimpers. He filled you until you saw white behind your eyes each time they fluttered closed.

"They're gonna hear ya," he muttered. You caught a flash of lace before it was being pressed to your lips—willing you to part them and hold the fabric between your teeth.

Logan gave you one minute to find your brain in the muddled thoughts that filled you, before pulling out. Only to slam back in. Your cry was muffled—eyes rolled back—and he felt a searing triumph begin to form in his chest. At the sight of you in a messy state of bliss.

His hips slapped against yours, the wet slide of your cunt a loud echo. Adding to the symphony of his groans and your whimpered sounds. Your spit soaked into the lace, fingers digging hard along the planes of his back, and he felt you gush at the feel of his teeth sinking into your neck.

"So fuckin' sweet for me," he grunted, cupping your ass to push you back and forth on his cock. A shift in the angle had you going dumb. Eyes wide and glazed with tears. "My pretty girl huh?"

Fuck you wanted to scream. You longed to hear his name bounce off the closet walls and spill into the foyer of Wade's damn apartment. To remind them that time was still passing and their limit had reached the vastness of infinity.

He pounded into you with sharp gasps of praise, words that fell on ears deafened by the rush of blood that ran right to your head. Oxygen felt secondary when his cock kissed the wall of your cunt with such accuracy it left you blinded. Enough to have you sobbing into the spit soaked lace - tears spilling down your cheeks.

"You take it like it was fuckin' made for you yeah?"

You nodded, breasts bouncing as he fucked you along his cock—his other hand pressed to the wall. You took it like it was made for you, because it was made for you. Logan belonged to you. Whether he knew it now or not.

"I can feel you squeezin' me," he gasped. "Gonna cum?"

"Mhm," you mumbled, the squelch of your cunt loud enough to block out the laughter from the outside.

"Then do it honey." His thumb found your clit, swirling it with sharp pointed circles. Your toes curled in your shoes—head falling back to the wall with a soft thud. "That's it. Fuckin' cum for me."

"Mmff–" A sob of what morphed into his name tore from the depths of your body. Rendering you a shaky mess in his arms as you clamped down around his cock.

Slick poured out of you, coating the hair along the base of his stomach in your essence. Logan growled at the sight. His eyes narrowed and teeth bared with each stunted thrust of his hips into yours. Claws punctured the drywall behind you as a way to keep his body level. To ground himself as he came with a hoarse groan he quickly muffled into the top of your breast.

Grinding into you, he emptied himself entirely. Rope after rope of his spend now filling you to the point of dripping down to his balls.

You felt the need to drop to your knees and taste him.

To clean him entirely and place him neatly back in his jeans. But the movement of your body no longer remained an option—your legs numb and back sore from being pounded into the wall.

He removed the gag with a huff, kissing you gently with his thumbs pressed to the tops of your cheeks. A soft caress. A contract to the rough way he manhandled you.

"I can't feel my legs," you sighed into his mouth, tongue swiping along his bottom lip.

"You're not supposed to." The weak slap to his chest had him laughing louder than intended.

"Don't worry. Wade won't notice if you carry me."

He groaned, his teeth scraping at the flesh of your breast. "Don't fuckin’ say his name or I won't be able to fuck you again tonight."

You giggled, running your hands through his mussed hair. "Whiskey dick?"

"Shut up–"

"He's told you–"

Lips sealed over yours, hips pushing yours until the sigh stuttered from your chest. "Don't fuckin' start honey."

You smiled into the kiss. "Or you'll finish?"

A thump rammed against the door, startling the both of you. You half expected it to swing open and expose Logan with his jeans down to his knees and his softened cock still inside you. But all that came through was Wade's laughter—his knuckles rapping on the wood.

"Did he rise babygirl?" he shouted much to the detriment of the group who booed behind him.

"I will cut you open through the door!" Logan snarled. A triumphant laugh rattled the walls as Logan lowered you to the ground. Only for Wade to get the last official word.

"HE ROSE!"

[m3owcuryy]

౨ৎ ━━━ R U MINE?

━ ghost of u.

━ characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji

━ sum: when he realizes (modern au)

━ wc: 2.5k

━ tw: angst, m cheater, slight(?) comfort, mentions of ED (eating disorder/unable to eat), mentions of insomnia. nsfw!!! MDNI.

lowercase intended!

𖤐.ᐟ pt 1: cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater | pt 2: ghost of u.

MASTERLIST

━━━ GOJO SATORU

it's been almost four months since you had caught gojo satoru cheating on you. the last time you had seen him was when you finished up gathering the last of your things.

the first week after you had ended things with your white haired ex-boyfriend, you were inconsolable. you were unable to eat healthily or sleep. whenever you had closed your eyes, images of the incident would quickly play, resulting in you crying until you were unable to cry any more.

after a month, you had slowly began regaining your appetite. there were moments where you would eat something that reminded you of gojo and the memories you shared together that you (inconveniently) had to toss out because you would instantly become irritated at the mere thought of him. you were still hurting, but the hurt began to grow into disgust and anger as time went by. aside from that, you were finally getting used to sleeping alone.

after the third month, you were finally able to sleep peacefully and eat without getting irritated at the thought of gojo. you still thought about him due to the texts you had been receiving from him ever since the day you had broken up, including the plethora of voicemails he would leave you as he sobbed for you to come back to him.

you would've thought that after getting no calls or texts back after A MONTH would get him to stop, but man, were you wrong. if anything the voicemails would get longer, and the begging would get even more desperate than the last. you had debated on blocking him, but hearing his pleads helped you move on, in a twisted way.

the thought of entering another relationship, terrified you. after gojo's infidelity, you didn't know if you were ever going to trust anyone with your heart anymore. of course you were paranoid, untrusting of people, but you decided that it was okay to open your heart for someone else. you weren't actively looking for a relationship, you believed that if things happen, they happen for a reason.

then came, nanami kento.

you had met kento at a coffee shop near your apartment. you had decided to finish up some work at the coffee shop, when the cliche two people bumping into each other, spilling the coffee moment played out.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry." a deep voice hastily apologized to you.

"no, no. you're fine." you muttered as you tried to get the hot beverage off of your body by flailing your arms up and down.

"here, let me help." the male began patting you down with napkins with urgency.

"let me get you another coffee, sir." the barista who had witnessed the incident spoke, which was completely ignored by the two of you.

after a few moments passed, you looked at the male, immediately noticing his handsome features. blushing, you cleared your throat in attempt to hide your flushed cheeks.

"are you okay?" the worry evident in his voice.

nodding, you flashed the blonde male a shy smile. "yup, thank you for trying to help."

after that, you and kento had, coincidently, been running into each other at the coffee shop as well as the grocery store, engaging in conversations which would go on for hours if you guys had the time. he helped you move on from gojo without even knowing it.

"[name]...?"

you and kento had decided to hang out at the coffee shop since you were both free for the rest of the day. hearing a much too familiar voice, you froze in your seat, stopping mid sentence. kento noticed your behavior, looking behind him and seeing gojo satoru. kento raises an eyebrow in confusion as he looks back at you.

"gojo."

gojo looked like a mess to put it nicely. his hair looked unkept, along with the very prominent under eye bags. the once, lively and kept male, now looked tired. gojo noticed kento the minute he saw you, but he didn't care. he just wanted to see you, to talk to you again.

"you know him?" kento asked, making you nod.

"you look," gojo took a deep breath. "good."

"uh, thank you. is there anything i can help you with?"

gojo's heart clenched at the coldness in your voice, but you didn't care to mask anything in the moment. you felt bad for him, it was obvious he wasn't doing good from the voicemails he would leave you, but seeing him,

you didn't think he was doing this bad.

at one point in time, you loved him. you loved him so much you would forget about your own wellbeing to make sure he was okay. you don't love him anymore, but seeing him so pathetic, you felt so bad.

"kento, give me like, ten minutes. i'll be back." you flashed him an apologetic smile, before getting up and walking to the back of the shop where it was a bit more secluded. gojo followed, taking a seat across from you.

"so," gojo took a sharp inhale. "is he...?"

"don't worry about that," you dodged his question, opting the choice that he doesn't need to know anything about you anymore. "you need to move on, satoru."

gojo's eyes shut close, trying to keep his tears from falling.

"you cheated on me," you sighed. "there's no going back from that. no matter how much begging and crying you do, i'm not coming back. there is no more 'us'."

"please, [name]..." gojo tried to suppress his sob. "look at me! i'm sorry."

you shake your head, giving him a sad smile. "i'm sorry, gojo, but there's nothing you could do for me to come back. instead of weeping over something you did, why don't you learn and grow for the next person you date?"

you get up, patting gojo's back. without letting him respond, you leave him, going back to kento. before saying anything, you pull your phone out, blocking gojo's number.

"an ex...?"

looking up from your phone, your eyes meet kento's. putting your phone down, you nod. before you could respond, your eyes snap up to gojo's figure that was exiting the shop, not missing the tears that cascaded down his pale cheeks.

"yeah," you answered softly.

━━━ GETO SUGURU

it's been almost half a year since you caught geto suguru cheating on you. it didn't take you long to move on, after all, why would weep for a cheater?

you had moments where you would catch yourself crying and looking over pictures you had taken with him and the twins, which resulted in you impulsively going outside no matter the time of day or night it was. you didn't do anything, all you did was walk around even sometimes buy yourself something when you could.

nanako and mimiko never stopped talking to you. they would text you everyday and keep you updated with what they were doing along with pictures and selfies. you tried your best to see them as often as you could whenever they wanted to see you, which wasn't hard since they always wanted to be with you once a week on the weekends.

the twins never really forgave geto for cheating on you, they were trying their best to forgive and forget, but all they were able to do was forgive. after all, geto was still there for them and loved them like his own. it was easier to forgive him when they had seen you move on from him, but one thing the twins never failed to do was tell him about you.

"how was it?" geto asked the twins when they entered the living room.

"omg! it was so fun! we went to the mall, and hung out with [name] at her apartment for a little." nanako gushed.

"how-" geto choked up, clearing his throat. "how is she...?"

"[name] has such a nice boyfriend! he dropped by to give her some flowers before he went back to work." mimiko exclaimed happily before getting elbowed in the side from nanako. "ouch!"

"we agreed not to say anything...!"

mimiko's words hit geto like a truck. the tears that he had tried so hard to push away after hearing about you, came down rapidly. putting his arm over his eyes to suppress the tears, he took a sharp breath.

geto kept all of his feelings tucked in. after your departure from his life, the world was so dull, so sad. he spent countless nights unable to sleep due to his guilt, and every time he closed his eyes, your crying face kept him from being able to sleep.

every time he brushed his hair, he'd end up crying from the memories of you getting excited to brush his hair. the way your eyes would light up when he would ask you to brush it, the way you would hum whatever song that was stuck in your head as you combed through his tresses.

after multiple slip ups from the twins, geto was able to put together that you had really moved on from him. as much as he wanted to beg you to come back to him, he didn't have the right to. geto was unable to move on.

geto wrote letters to you once a week, hoping that one day, when you miraculously came back, you'd read them, seeing how much he suffered without you, but now he knew, there was no miracle.

━━━ NANAMI KENTO

after catching nanami cheating on you, you spent countless days crying in your bed, and refusing to go outside. there was a point in time when you had ultimately finished all of the food in your kitchen, and never restocked on anything for almost a week, only surviving on takeout.

you had blocked nanami on everything you could think of, refusing to hear from him if he ever tried to reach out. a week after catching him and his assistant, a number of his ex-coworkers informed you that the two had been fired, and blacklisted. as much as that made you happy, your heart was still hurting.

almost a year has gone by, and you were officially able to move on. you didn't think you were ready to be in another committed relationship yet due to the trust issues nanami had given you. but, after some time you met kamo choso.

choso knew about your history with nanami and how you weren't ready for a committed relationship, and despite that choso decided to court you. you didn't want him to wait for you, but after seeing him be so patient, so understanding of you, you decided that it was time to open your heart to him.

choso <3: hey, are you home? :) my sweet [name] <3: yup! just doing some cleaning. what's up? choso <3: i'm outside <3

looking outside your window, you spot choso with a small arrangement of red and white flowers. his eyes met your's, he flashes you a soft smile, waving. smiling brightly, you opened the front door, letting him into your home.

"choso! you didn't have too!" you blushed as you gave you the flowers, along with a kiss on the forehead that made your heart flutter.

"i know, i wanted too."

after a few hours of talking and watching movies, you looked at choso with loving eyes. with finality and certainty you asked him, "would you like to officially be my boyfriend?"

it had been almost three months since you and choso became official. despite your trust issues, choso stayed understanding and patient with your feelings, never forgetting to reassure you and let you know what he was doing. you couldn't be anymore thankful for him.

a knock at your door rang throughout your home. getting up from cuddling with choso, the two of you got up excitedly, expecting the takeout food you had ordered before the movie.

"hello- nanami...?"

you weren't expecting to see your ex-boyfriend standing there with a bouquet of flowers.

"eh? this is nanami?" choso muttered, wrapping his arms around your waist, propping his head on your shoulder.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, taking in his appearance. his hair had gotten longer, along with prominent eye bags. he looked like he lost some weight as well. to be honest, he didn't look like the nanami you once knew.

"i...i wanted to apologize." nanami swallowed. "but i see you moved on..."

scoffing, you crossed your arms as choso just listened. "it's almost been a year, nanami. and you're apologizing now?"

nanami's grip on the flowers faltered. he looked down, ashamed. with a sigh, you looked at him with pity. he looked like a mess, to say the least.

"nanami," you began. "it's too late for apologies, don't you think? i moved on, you should too."

━━━ FUSHIGURO TOJI

after calling it quits with fushiguro toji, you didn't think you would be able to move on, but you did. though, your idea of moving on was something different from what you initially had in mind.

you never thought that sleeping with your ex-fiance was going to be the way you coped.

"ngh," toji groaned into your ear as he was balls deep into you.

there you laid under toji as he fucked you. this was the fourth time you found yourself in his bed as he had his way with you. the sound of his balls slapping against you, as well as his muffled groans as he fucked into you.

as much as you hated him, the sex was undeniably amazing.

as you felt yourself nearing your edge, you clawed at his back, moans escaping your pretty lips.

"i'm cumming, doll." toji uncharacteristically whined into your ear.

as the two reached your peaks, you laid under him as you caught your breath. toji's eyes gazed down at you with guilt and regret swirling in his orbs. as he tried to capture your lips into a kiss, you turned your head away, getting out from under him. all toji could do was stare at your back as you got dressed, his heart clenching.

"megumi should be here soon. see ya." with that you left his room without looking back at him.

"megumi!" you exclaimed happily, bringing the boy into a tight hug.

"hey, ma. ready?" megumi asked, hugging you back as tight.

"yup!" you smiled, your eyes met toji's making you sigh softly before planting a kiss on his forehead. "i'll see you in the car, i gotta talk to your dad really quick."

nodding, megumi made his way into your car. walking closer to toji, you nodded at him. toji stared at you with soft eyes, his eyes speaking so much more volume his words couldn't.

"fushiguro." you acknowledged. "is there something you have to say?"

"be mine again..." he softly spoke. "please."

sighing, you shook your head. this was the nth time where he had asked you to come back. despite his efforts, you always declined.

"toji, you cheated on me," you narrowed your eyes. "three times."

"i'm sorry."

"sorry won't take back the amount of hurt you put me through." you rolled your eyes.

"let me show you how much i miss you, doll. one more time. it's been. a while, right?" toji pleaded, his hands grasping your's. shaking your head, you pulled your hands away.

"no, toji." you took a step back. "there are no more times. no more fucking. i moved on, you should do the same. besides, i'm only here for megumi. not for you."

you began walking away. "there is no more us, i already told you that long ago."

note(s):

slightly proofread

this was the last part! sorry if it didn't meet y'alls expectations. i tried to make it all as realistic as possible, esp w the kids, the reader literally CAN NOT take the kids w them, they aren't their guardian in any legal way!

[annwrites]

⸻ being aegon ii targaryen's personal chambermaid would include:

↳꒰gif꒱

he would be wary of you at first.

he'd be acting under the assumption that you're dyana's replacement which has been hand-chosen by his mother to spy on him. especially since you are assigned to him & him alone, he later comes to discover when you tell him.

"Who are you?" "Your new chambermaid, My Prince," you reply with a polite curtsy, folding your hands in front of you while keeping your eyes downcast. "Dyana's replacement. Y/N, if it pleases you." He hums in feigned interest for a moment. "Did my mother send you, then?" You waver. "She did. I was hand-selected by her—" "To spy on me?" He interrupts, crossing his arms. Your brows furrow and you hesitantly meet his eyes. "No, My Prince." He rolls his eyes. "No, of course not. She sent you to what, then? Change my sheets and bathe my children?" "She...assigned me solely to you, My Prince. It was requested the maid be young and modest. Devoted wholly to you and your needs." He raises a brow. "Devoted? My needs?" He takes a step closer. "And did she disclose to you, what, precisely, 'my needs' are to be defined as?" You blink at him. "I assume tending to your chambers, My Prince. Cleaning and organizing them. Fetching your meals, and hot water for your baths. Tending to your clothing when necessary. Building the fire within your hearth and so on." His violet eyes trail along you while he chews the inside of his cheek. "Are you, then? Devoted to me?" He asks with a sarcastic snort. You nod slowly. There is no other acceptable way to reply than with agreement. "Of course, My Prince." He huffs, stepping away, pouring himself a glass of wine. "I shall leave you to it, then." You step over to his bed and begin stripping it of last night's linens—his gaze remaining upon you all the while.

he would act quite indifferent to you, initially. nevertheless, he watches your every move as you flit about his room, tidying & cleaning.

it takes awhile before he bothers with attempting conversation with you.

and when he does, it's 'innocent' enough in nature. he's always careful of keeping in-mind, that, when he speaks to you, he may very-well be speaking—by proxy—to his queen mother.

"You're very pretty," he remarks, feet propped up atop his dining table while he sits near a window, sipping idly on sweet wine. You slowly turn round to him from the mantle you'd been dusting. "M-me, My Prince?" He gestures toward the vacant room. "Who else might I be speaking to?" You nervously wring the small towel you hold between your hands, your cheeks warming, which causes him to smile slightly. "Thank you, My Prince." He takes a sip from his chalice. "Aegon," he offers. "No need for all this ridiculous formality when we spend near-every waking moment together now." You nod, unsure that it's appropriate to begin addressing him by his given name, but the two of you are alone. And you're meant to obey him. To please him. "Aegon," you reply with a nod, and a sweet smile. He raises his cup. "Better."

unable to help himself, the vow he made, internally, to keep his distance & make minimal conversation with you, falls to the wayside in his unhappy loneliness.

he, in time, will send for you for you when it is late and everything is too quiet because—oh, would you look at that?—the tunic he'd intended to don tomorrow needs a button replaced.

or—he's hungry and wishes for something sweet from the kitchens. he needs you fetch it for him.

but, before you can leave, he offers you some wine, or merely to share in his meal. all an excuse to keep you longer, you both know, but neither of you acknowledge it aloud.

eventually, he begins following you around his chambers while you're cleaning—so close that when you turn with arms full of sheets, you slam right into his chest.

he'll briefly apologize, tucking some hair behind your ear, before continuing on with his babbling.

"I went up on Sunfyre just this morn with Jaehaerys—it will be some years yet before he is able to ride his own, Shrykos, by himself. He laughed, though, the whole while. Helaena hardly bothers with ever leaving this damn place. Someone has to take the boy outside. She's so fucking dull. I wish mother had let Aemond have her, but I'm instead stuck—bound to her in matrimony," he states with a mocking lilt to his voice. He follows you over to his wardrobe while you hang up his freshly-washed tunics, trousers, and cloaks. "I mean, she talks in riddles when you do try conversing with her, so what's the point in even attempting? Do you want to know what she told me the other day?" You glance to him, then back to your current task. "She said that I will 'take up objects like a king of old' and 'so, too, shall Rhaenys come again'. What in Seven Hells does that even mean? Objects? What bloody objects? And we have a Rhaenys now. Is she planning a visit?" He grips your hip, so you turn to him. "Do you've any idea what she's on about in her madness?" You close the doors to his wardrobe, leaning back against it. "Maybe—" He cuts you off short, waving his hand, taking your own within it, walking you over to his dining table so you can tend to it next. "She's simple, is what she is. I pray our children turn out far different. Jaehaerys seems, already, to take more after me. Jaehaera looks more like her, but it's just as well: she's her mother." You begin gathering plates from when he broke his fast. "Have you ever been near a dragon?" He asks. You look up at him. "I've not." His lip twitches. "Do you wish to ride one?" "I'm not su—" "There is always the option of riding one without wings," he states with a wink, walking across the room, throwing the curtains to his balcony open, looking at you over his shoulder. "Fine day for it." You smile nervously, returning to your chores.

the day aegon introduces you to sunfyre, you're terrified, until he takes your hand in his, pressing it to the golden dragon's neck, and he practically purrs in contentment.

and then he has the two of you climb atop him, and you are given the honor—a singular experience—of riding through the clouds on a dragon.

aegon holds you close with a wide smile upon his lips whole he laughs contently with you in his arms.

the longer you're in his company, the more flirtatious he grows toward you. and, quite shockingly—even to him—loyal as well.

he ceases late-night trips to the street of silk, instead wanting for you to remain by his side late into the evening, until he manages to finally get you to stay long enough that you fall asleep in his bed while the two of you are conversing.

he'd honestly planned for you to stay so late that it's where you end up sleeping, but the thought of asking you to stay the night makes him feel even mildly pathetic. so, waiting until you were so exhausted that you merely passed out had seemed the next best option.

he still has yet to receive any sort of sign or confirmation that you feel similarly toward him as he does toward you: affection and fancying and all.

so, the next morning, right after you've woken is when he asks it.

"Do you like me?" You blink open bleary eyes which quickly widen when you realize you'd spent the night in the prince's bed. You shoot up—your hair a wild mess as you stare at him. "W-What?" "Do you like me?" He repeats, gently tucking tangled locks behind your ear with a shaking hand. "Yes, of course I do," you say, leaning the least bit toward him. He frowns slightly. "It is your job to say yes. Of course you would." He makes to get out of bed, until you grab his hand. He instantly turns back to you with a hopeful look in his eyes, much like a puppy might do its beloved owner. You scoot toward him, gently cupping his cheek. "I like you a great deal, Aegon. It surprises me, with all the time we spend together, you need me confirm it." He shrugs, lacing his fingers between yours. "It is your duty to be loyal to me. Kind and...what-not. It can be difficult to dissuade where that duty ends and true friendship—or otherwise—begins." Slowly, you slide a hand up his warm, bare arm, smiling softly. "All I do now, I do out of devotion which comes from me and me alone." He blinks at you, his face growing warm. "Devotion, hm?" You nod. He glances down to your hands—considering—remaining silent for a considerable amount of time whilst his heart pounds in his chest at the mere thought of asking his next question. But he does it anyway, despite his nerves, because he needs hear the answer. He has wondered for weeks. At the very least, has wished to hear it for that long. He's wished to for far longer, in truth, from anyone. But none utter it. Not his mother, or father, or siblings. Mayhaps...you will. "Do you...love me?" He asks, glancing to you from under silver lashes, wanting to crawl out of his skin, or take to the skies upon Sunfyre and disappear above the clouds for a few hours to escape this Gods-awful embarrassment. You smile widely, which he quickly matches—heart leaping and bounding in his chest at the hopeful sight. And then, most unexpectedly, you crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. "What gave it away?" He crushes his lips to yours in elation.

He deigns you are to spend all your time at his side from that moment forward.

you are to eat together, sleep together, take walks together. he wishes deeply to take things in a more intimate direction, but doesn't want to scare you off when he's only just earned your love.

nevertheless, he's a young man & can't help himself. he wants what he wants & what he wants is to be buried inside of you as much as possible.

"Have you ever...known a man?" He asks with a raised brow of interest. You still—your hand hovering over the game of Cyvasse you are currently winning—as per usual. "Do you mean—" "Are you still a maiden?" He quickly asks, thus elaborating. You settle your hands into your lap, heart fluttering at the knowledge he's after. "I am." He grins. "That pleases me greatly to hear, Y/N." You flush, growing warm between your thighs. "It...does?" He nods, resting his arm atop the table. Slowly, he begins to slide it to the left, knocking everything off the surface and onto the floor—game pieces, tiny elephants and dragons and trebuchets tumbling across marble. He stands then, as do you, and he leans over, grabbing your face in his hands, and he begins to kiss you passionately. And then he breaks the intimate embrace for only a moment. "May I have you?" He whispers, cock straining against his trousers. You smile lovingly. "You already have all of me, Aegon. I would deny you nothing when it comes to myself. Including this. I am, as ever, wholly yours. In every way." He grins widely before walking around the table, scooping you into his arms, and carrying you over to your now-shared bed.

aegon is painstakingly gentle with you in bed.

very slowly, he rocks his hips against yours, gazing down upon your face all the while.

he loves seeing the expressions you make—the flush across your cheeks and naked skin.

it makes him impossibly harder when you whine and whimper and moan and sigh.

gets him ever-closer when you call his name while he's deep inside you.

he tells you how much he adores you. how he loves and cares for you. that he'd do anything to make you happy.

He never bothers with asking you to drink moontea after he's spilled his seed inside of you.

You're the one, instead, who procures it for yourself, even if he actually—secretly—wants to get you with child.

He loves the three little ones he already has, so he'd very much like a fourth. Maybe a fifth, and so on. And the thought of it being with you? It fills him with inexplicable joy.

especially since the children he has now already enjoy your company just as much as he. and he knows you adore them in return.

You hold Jaehaera in your lap while Aegon plays with his boys across the room—Maelor slamming wooden blocks together and Jaehaerys giggling as his father makes a wooden dragon soar over his head, breathing fictional dragonfire. You read quietly to the little girl as she sucks on her thumb, staring at the illustrated pages before her with wide, violet eyes that much resemble her father's. Maelor stands, walking over to you, and then he gently tugs on your skirts. You smile down at him while he raises his arms, wanting you to pick him up. You set the book down, shifting Jaehaera to your other knee, and just as you make to retrieve the little boy, he utters it.

"Mama." Your head immediately jerks in Aegon's direction, and his in yours. You remain still, staring at him with unsure eyes, unknowing of what to do—what he must be thinking. And then Aegon smiles, and he calls the little boy's name. Maelor turns back to him, and Aegon's eyes flit to you for a moment as he nods in your direction. "Say it again, my boy." You open your mouth to tell him he should not be encouraging it—he already has a mother—but are interrupted. "Mama." You lift him into your lap, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You look back to Aegon and he beams at you in return.

unknown to you, aegon has been encouraging his children in secret to begin calling you as much.

helaena seems, at times, grossly indifferent to them—more interested in her bugs and riddles than anything else.

whereas you've always been attentive.

he knows you would make a wonderful mother to fruit of your own womb.

it is something he very much desires, so he begins hinting at it eventually.

"Is it not distasteful?" You raise a brow, dabbing at your lips with a cloth after having finished a small mug of moontea. "Hm?" He nods to the cup you hold. You shrug slightly, settling it atop the dining table. "It's a necessity." A muscle in his jaw feathers nervously as he comes closer to you, threading his fingers in your hair. "What if it wasn't?" Your eyes flit between his own. "I don't underst—" He rests his free palm against your belly, his eyes studying it for a moment before meeting your own once again. "What if it wasn't?" He repeats. A small smile crawls across your lips.

when you finally conceive, the two of you keep it a secret between you for as long as you can manage, until alicent one day catches the two of you in a private hallway.

aegon is smiling, caressing your stomach, telling you how the two of you should begin discussing names soon.

filled with fury, she returns to her chambers, then summons him to them to confront him on what he's done.

"With child, Aegon?! As if you have not sullied your great house's name enough—have not dishonored your father and I enough, as well as yourself time and again—you get a serving girl with child?" She shouts, her voice echoing across her chambers. Aegon sits silently upon a plush green lounge, his sweating palms tightly gripping his knees while he keeps his head slightly bowed, not wishing to meet her disapproving eyes. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?" She asks in exasperation. "I love her," he states quietly. She mumbles something incoherent, pinching the bridge of her nose, wrapping her other arm around herself—her opposite hand coiled into a fist. "You've a wife—it is shameful I need keep reminding you! How could you've let this happen again, you fool? What of Helaena, or your children—" "Children she barely acknowledges?" He asks, interrupting. His eyes meet hers then, continuing on. "Y/N acts far more a mother to them than she does. She acts wife to me in all but name as well—gives me the love my own never has. That you never have." Alicent remains silent. "I know you are disappointed in me. Perhaps you've always been. I'm not what... Whatever you'd envisioned for yourself for your first-born son. I'm not like Aemond. And naming me after a Conqueror was never going to make me one, mother. My children, Sunfyre, and she are all that bring me joy. I won't let you take her from me." Alicent throws her hands up in exasperation, resting them on her hips. "What do you think to do, Aegon? Take her as your official mistress? It will humiliate all of us." He shakes his head, face screwing in confusion and irritation. "You chose her for me!" "To be your chambermaid, not your whore!" He stands then, fuming, hands bunched into fists as his sides. "Mayhaps you should've been more specific in your commands when you assigned her to me, then. 'Devoted wholly to my needs'? You mean to pretend you never intended this? For me to—to take her solely to bed so I'd stop visiting the Street of Silk, so I'd stop flirtations with random serving wenches? I give you what you want, and still I am punished for it! We are devoted to one another. Just leave us be!" Alicent seats herself, resting her face in her hands for a moment. "I will make arrangements. She and the child will be well-cared for. But this stain must be hidden. If not wholly washed from history altogether. No one can know. I won't allow it." Her eyes meets his then, which are filled with tears. "Please," he pleads as they begin to slip down his cheeks. "I don't want to live without her." Alicent stands, clasping her hands before her in finality. "It is done. I will give you an evening to say your goodbyes. Come the morn, she will be sent away to a location undisclosed to you." He roars in anger, throwing a wine glass against the wall, staring at her with a look of utter loathing before stalking out, slamming the door behind him.

come the next morn, however, alicent's plans never come to fruition when viserys is found dead in his bed.

aegon begs his mother not to make him do it—he does not wish to be king—but his wishes, are, as ever, not considered.

he keeps you close to him all through the day for comfort and reassurance, even if you yourself are frightened.

he will not allow alicent so much as near you.

he tells her that she gave him a conqueror's name, he lives in his home, has bestowed upon him his sword, coronated him with his crown, will be given his armor, and will sit his throne, so he—just like his forebear—will take a second wife for love.

"I know what my first measure shall be once I am crowned king," he whispers, his forehead pressed to your own, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he holds your face in his hands. You rest your hands against his chest. "What might that be, my love?" He leans back, gazing into your eyes with a look of certainty unlike you have ever seen—utter seriosity. "I mean to take a second wife."

and so, not but a couple days after he is crowned, the two of you are joined as one in the sept, much to his mother's dismay.

and so begins his employment as king of the realm, even if he is scared out of his wits and wants naught to do with it initially.

the clear disregard his small council has for his opinions becomes quickly apparent.

so he confides in the only person he knows actually respects him: you.

and you council him from the position of someone who is a commoner, trying to guide him toward mercy. not that he does not wish that for himself.

he just...wants his people to love him.

he wants to be a benevolent king.

but then aemond kills luke.

and then they come for his own children.

and he loses his little boy. his jaehaerys.

and he goes mad with grief.

you are heartbroken yourself—so distressed you fear losing the babe you carry inside of you—but you know you must calm your husband, even if you are frightened of him in this moment as he screams for war, and fire, and blood as he destroys his father's life's work.

"My love, please!" You cry through blinding tears, clutching at your pregnant belly, your little one stirring madly within your womb, as if it can sense your and its father's shared agony. And then Aegon holds Blackfyre in your direction—his eyes wild—and he presses the tip to your stomach. "My Jaehaerys is dead! That fucking whore took my boy! And you wish for me to what? Quell my rage?! You common whore! I see it now! I see what you are!" You back away slowly, terror filling you at his words—his unspoken threat toward your and your child's life. You shake your head, cradling your belly, your tears near to drowning you as you choke on them, unable to so much as speak in reply. "Get out!" He cries, reigning down on white stone spires. "Get out! I cannot look at you! Out! Out!" Ser Arryk grabs you by the arm, wrenching you away, toward safety. He spirits you away to vacant chambers, where he stands watch for your protection. And so you sit and wait—trembling in fear, terrified of what may happen to you now. He'd...he'd turned on you so easily. Had called you...what he did. Has he always seen you in such a manner? You try not to think on it too long. Tonight is not about you and your feelings. Jaehaerys is dead. He has been brutally murdered. And you want Rhaenyra to pay. Dearly. What happened to Lucerys had naught to do with Aegon. If she wished to punish, why had she not, instead, targeted Aemond? That little boy... Your little boy—for you have come to regard him as such. You will never hold him again. Will never sing or read to him again. Will never watch Aegon play knights and dragons with him again. You cradle your head in your hands, and weep. You've nearly cried yourself to sleep when Ser Arryk enters, telling you that His Grace is asking after you. And so you follow silently behind him, holding your belly, your chin wobbling in fear of what's to happen to you. You've never feared Aegon before. Never. But tonight...you fear for your very life. You enter his chambers, the doors shutting softly behind you, and you glance to them over your shoulder, wishing a guard had stayed. Mayhaps he ordered them out for what is to occur. You steel yourself, padding closer, tears slipping down your cheeks as you keep your eyes focused on Aegon who sits before the room's hearth, trembling and quietly sobbing. His head shoots up and you still. He stands and you clutch your belly impossibly tighter. He comes toward you and your heart hammers between your breasts. And then he falls to his knees, clutching at your skirts as he howls in agony. "Forgive me! Forgive me, please! I'm so fucking sorry! I'm so sorry! My boy! They killed my boy! You have to forgive me!" He suddenly stands then, taking your face roughly between his hands, his eyes flitting rapidly between your own. "Y-You have to forgive me. You have to! You're—You're my wife—Queen. You have—You can't leave me!" Gingerly, you wrap your arms around him and the two of you sink to the floor while you gently rock him. "My boy!" He hollers, echoing through the halls and into the night. It's some time later before you manage to coax him into bed. And once the two of you have lied down, dawn has just begun to grace the horizon. He wraps himself around you like a child would its mother for comfort, whimpering and sniffling and shaking in fear. So you sing to him the Song of the Seven. And he falls asleep in your arms, begging for Jaehaerys to come back to him.

aegon is very, understandably, sullen after jaehaerys' death.

he returns to keeping you at his side at all times—even during small council meetings—so you can soothe him.

and then otto suggests a procession where his baby's body will be put on display for the people.

and you watch the distraught look on your husband's face grow with fervor as the people in that room talk about his little boy like a prop to bastardize rhaenyra.

so you hold your husband, cradling his head as he cries against your breast, glaring at any who dare glance in your direction with questioning looks.

"You would dare use the corpse of your King's son for political benefit? Have you no decency? No honor? Have none of you children yourself, or is it hearts you do not possess?" Otto stands tall when he replies simply. "Your presence here is a mere courtesy to His Grace in his hour of need. You hold no seat at this table." "Your Grace," you hiss. "I am your Queen. You should remember that next time you mean to address me, along with whom is whom's better. The roles are now reversed, ser. And my position comes with a great many benefits. Including utilization of obtaining justice. In various forms." The King's Justice is the unspoken threat that hangs in the silent, taught air. None speak in his defense—including the King—leaving him suddenly without allies as you wield the metaphorical sword that is your tongue. He knows naught that you have done so before within this room—your husband serving as proxy as you gave him council on how to handle the very vipers which have made their nests all around you. He should have cut them off at the head. Then again, there is always time. Otto bows his head. "Your Grace."

read my post here on reader counseling aegon on what to do after alicent tells him to do nothing, in regards to politics, bc he is an "inferior king", essentially (it doesn't entirely match up with this post, bc when i wrote it, i hadn't entirely fleshed out my idea of aegon's & reader's relationship (as in: she becomes pregnant & subsequently, his queen).

after rook's rest, you remain vigilant by aegon's bedside, watching over him, doing whatever you can to help, or to soothe his pain.

he tells you he is a hideous beast now.

you assure him otherwise. that he is & will always be beautiful to you. inside & out. that he holds your heart entirely until it stops beating.

he "jokes" that he is fortunate he "got you with child before he lost his manhood".

he tells you he will never be able to pleasure you again. that you should abandon him and start your life anew with a new man. a man in general.

you assure him—as you trail your fingertips lightly along his body—that there are other ways you may pleasure each other. many things which you one day may explore together in intimate moments.

he begins to weep at your undying love for him.

꒰a/n꒱: more to be added, perhaps, when we get the next season. i'm not going to follow the events of fire & blood with this post since the show has stopped doing as much itself, which this post is based off of.

i know the text is both regular & small, but it's bc Tumblr is fucking stupid & fucked up my formatting.

[jazjelspen]

ex-girlfriend

jeff the killer x fem! reader

(you've dated Jeff the Killer since high school and have known him for longer. You stayed even after he became who he is now.. but what if you became stronger than him? what if you became a completely new person entirely? and left your heavy-hearted killer boyfriend to rot?)

(notes: took inspo from fanon Jeff but also tried to write him into his own person of course :) will try to be realistic when it calls for it + took some creative liberties in certain aspects too. I also apologize if the characterization of Jeff and others isn't super fitting.. I'm still getting used to how I want to express them and construct them as characters and the world around them.)

(CAUTION!!!: includes dark/serious themes, mention of murder/death, use of cannab1s, slight implications of s3x, toxic relationships, physical abu$3, possible ooc(?) )

(NOT PROOFREAD)

[part 1/2]

you and jeff are a killer duo.

seriously and figuratively.

you two have always been attracted to each other, a connection you two couldn't see but you both knew it was there.

the older and closer you two got, the more you two realized you had more in common than you two initially assumed..

way, wayyy more in common.

but to skip a long origin story short, let me give you some details on how you and Jeff suddenly got separated in the way that you did.

you see, you and Jeff resided at the Slender Mansion.. mostly just to get Slender off your backs due to you guys finding solidarity and a sense of safety in the deep dark forests, far away from home. it kept you two safe from police, as well as anyone or anything else that could be a threat.

of course, the specific area you went into was territory of the thin and tall boss of the forests.. and you would've been dead meat if you two didn't create a sort of alliance with the deity, not exactly proxies yet you two still had to trade something in return for your lives.. the lives and bodies of others seemed to quell Slenderman's hunger quite well.

nonetheless, tonight was one of those nights in which you and Jeff had to find more lives to take, blood to shed.

this night was different though, as Jeff was currently stuck in your shared room after going through a minor operation at the hands of Eyeless Jack, another being that came and left as he pleased.

"You think he'll recover quick?" You perked up as you watched EJ sew in the last stitch in a cut that reopened earlier as he was helping Jeff into your room, cutting up the thread before standing back as you two stared at your injured boyfriend from beside the bed he laid on.

"Not as quick as you may think," spoke EJ, his calm, raspy, and slightly demonic voice sounding monotone as he isn't intending to comfort you in the slightest but just to inform you. "Slenderman's healing properties can only work so fast, the rest depends on his own body's will to repair itself."

"Makes sense, with how much the victim fought back and the cops almost got him by a hair.. " you let out a huff through your nose before crossing your arms over your chest and shook your head slightly. "It has never gotten this bad before..." You murmured before moving away to open the door for EJ to find his way out. "I know you don't usually accept 'thank you's but, thanks. I owe you one for saving his ass."

"Hm." hummed the blue masked being. He may have the form of a human, and sound like one to a certain extent.. but he doesn't have the feelings of one for all you knew. "I'm sure you know how to stitch him up again if another injury reopens, I won't be here the rest of the week as I'll be doing my own business elsewhere."

"Got it.." You opened the creaky wooden oak door to let him through, and he left just as fast as he came in.

Closing the door behind you and letting go of the rusty brass door knob, you sighed in exhaustion.

"Yknow, you've been awfully quiet--"

"Shut the fuck up or I'm going to slice your throat."

Your shoulders dropped as soon as you heard Jeff's empty threat escape his throat. You walked closer to him, your shoes making small thuds and the wooden floors creaking beneath your feet.

"There you are." you cooed, finally hearing him talk after being silent the entire time.. incredibly out of character for him yet you were sure the shame of getting as injured as he is now and having to be 'taken care of' definitely got to him. "I almost started missing you."

"Get my knife, get the rest of your shit, and let's move.. we have people to kill for fucks sake.." Jeff's hoarse voice cracked even further as he attempted to sit up yet the pain coming from his abdomen only caused his nerves his fire up, making him fall back onto the moldy mattress yelping in pain. "You're absolutely stupid for even thinking you're able to go out tonight Jeff." You proceeded to sit on the empty side of the bed beside him, your hand slowly reaching over to gently caress his brutally cut up cheek yet your lover only harshly smacked it away with the back of his own hand. "So.. you're telling me you're going to ignore what I fucking telling you to do?" Jeff groveled and huffed in irritation, if he wasn't so incapacitated he'd probably be pulling you by your arm or hair to get you to do what he told you. "Since when have you gotten so brave, doll?"

"Since I followed you and helped you kill your own family that night." You pulled your hand away, reminiscing the night when your Jeff turned into who he is now.

You remembered how much your heart swelled when you saw him covered in his family's blood, his fresh cut up smile and red inflamed burns across his body and face. You continued to love him just as much as you did before he became so disfigured.

He was your religion, and you followed him in devotion.

"Now, we still have to keep our deal with the big boss right? I'll do your kills for the night, then when your better tomorrow we'll finish up whatever else we have to do.. or hell we can just kill for fun to make it up to you, " you hopped off the bed as you spoke and walked over to a wooden rotting vanity in the corner of your room, with drawers that were unable to close and doors that were hanging by their hinges. Your hand reached over to get an empty crunched up ziplock bag and continued on to walk back to your boyfriend with the object in your hand. "What do you say? I'll even get you some of the good stuff to make you feel better." you spoke lovingly, your hand with the bag grazing over his misshapen nose as he inhaled it deeply with a faint sense of delight. It still lingered the smell of his favorite thing to smoke and get high off of.. aside from your kisses and affection of course.

"Fuck that smells good.." he mumbled before his beady black eyes then suddenly shot up at you with this look of angry hesitation. "This is the only damn time I'm ever letting you out of my sight, make it quick, come back, and if you take a fucking second too long I'll get up and drag you back by your hair myself, got it gorgeous?.."

"You won't even have to bother Jeff." you bent over slightly to give him a quick peck on the lips, but just as much as he was addicted to the green he was also addicted to your warmth, your lips, your presence and self.

You couldn't help but have to suddenly sustain your own body weight by resting an arm beside Jeff's head as his own uninjured arm went to grab you by the back of your head to pull you closer in a deeper, much more passionate kiss.

Hearts beating aggressively in a dark passion that was just as fiery and scarlet as the blood you two would spill on the daily, the faint smell of dried blood, mud, and rubbing alcohol reeked as you two struggled to inhale air with your noises clashing against each other, his aggressive and hungry kisses tasting of iron but also of old cigarettes and booze.

Normally this would disgust any one else that wasn't you, but you liked the way he smelled, how he tasted.. it reassured you that this was in fact Jeff, your Jeff.

Eventually, he would finally let you go by harshly pushing you away in order to break the kiss. He knew that if you stayed any longer he was gonna want you all to himself for the rest of the night, as close to him as you physically could.

"Get out of here and get back, ______. Don't make me wait longer than I have to."

You smiled at him, a sweet and sinister little smile that would somehow always get him hard every time you did it.

"You've got nothing to worry about."

two weeks.

two weeks passed since you disappeared that night.

Jeff recovered the night after you left, but you could imagine the absolute horror and rage he felt when he realized you never came back later that night.

With other residents also living in the mansion, residents with personalities and have bits of humanity left similar to Jeff, you can also imagine the slight wave of rumors to those that knew or noticed the two of you in your years in the mansion. Some say you made a deal with Slender and got to leave, others say that you got kidnapped, that you got brainwashed, caught by police, sacrificed to another higher being, stuck in an asylum or- simply that you died. There were endless possibilities but they all ended the same:

you hung Jeff dry, left his grasp and simply didn't come back.

Jeff would obviously try to get in contact with Slenderman as to know your condition, since he knew that the deity had the consciousness and psyches of every being or person he's made some kind of contact with in his hands.

Although he had to go through one, two, three of Slender's proxies, just to have a word with him somehow.. He would eventually get a word from the big boss through one of his more well known lackeys.

"She's fine, Jeffery. She isn't dead, she hasn't made any deals with him, and she isn't injured to death or whatever." the annoyed and exasperated voice of Masky would echo in the empty halls that the pair stood in, the arms of the mustard-yellow colored jacket would fold over his chest while also being in a sort of stance that expressed the fact that he simply just didn't want to be there.

"Then why the hell is she not back?? Does he know where she could be? If she was kidnapped? If she got arrested or put in a fucking ward?" Jeff yelled in an almost desperate sort of tone yet he would never admit it openly.

"Look, I don't fucking care whether she's alive, dead, stuck in a fucking hole or hell! if she's sucking some other guy's dick that isn't yours! But all I know that is that if she left on purpose he would've already had me or one of the others to get her back, but he hasn't so maybe she's nearby or some shit like that."

Anyone around could see that Jeff was on the verge of reaching over for his knife and cut Masky in half, yet he knew better than to do that to him of all people. "Does he at least know where she is?? I'll get her myself if I have to just give me a fucking address, some place to know where she could be!.."

If Masky wasn't wearing a mask, he'd probably be rolling his eyes to oblivion, irritated beyond belief at something like this even being a problem. "No. But as I already fucking said, if he isn't asking one of us to chase her down and get her back then you shouldn't have to overreact the way you are right now." the proxy proceeded to brush past him without a care, but said one last small thing before he left Jeff's vicinity completely.

"By the way, stop bothering the other proxies about this as we could care less about your girlfriend, just get a new one and fuck off!"

Jeff stood there, trembling in an anger he hasn't felt since the day he attacked his bullies and his brother took the blame for it.

He wasn't exactly reassured, but he also knew that he was very limited and there wasn't much he could do.

But he was restless, so you bet your ass he was going to go look for you even if it was just stalking the streets and killing anyone in his wake.

luckily for him, his waiting would end soon enough.

the week after that, he'd get the news of his life.

he'd been killing all week, killing innocents as he usually did but at a quicker and animalistic pace, he would almost get caught this time by the cops yet again but before his spree could continue he received some news thanks to that cheeky voice that would speak to him through the screens.

he would come back to the mansion, battered and bruised beyond belief. the calluses on his hands split and bled, cuts everywhere all old and fresh, he was ruthless in his murders as well as he was careless.

he needed you to ground him, you were the reason as to why he has even been alive for as long as he has.

his hand seemed to be superglued to the handle of his sharpened knife even as he was dragging his legs towards EJ's basement, where he was led to believe he would find what he was looking for.

He aggressively banged on the metal door with his fist in anticipation, not being able to wait any longer than how much he's already had to. The one to answer the door would be Eyeless Jack as it is his "resting" place in the mansion so to speak.

Once the door opened Jeff would quickly push past EJ not needing to be accepted in the space for him to go in.

"Where is she??" he shouted, his voice boasting in the cold concrete room. "I was told you found her, where the fuck is she?"

EJ would calmly close the door before slowly leading Jeff towards a corner of the large space, where a long, clean-white room divider seemed to hide something.

well, more like someone.

That was when Jeff finally saw you, your limp body laying there and your face had this gentle expression you'd usually make when you were sleeping. Beside you stood Nurse Ann, who was gently cleaning the countless cuts and lacerations you had around your body with several cotton pads and changing gauzes as well.

Jeff's heart fell down to his stomach, he would've started reeling and throwing up if he didn't rush to take a closer look at you only to see that your chest was still rising and falling.

He sighed in relief.

"As you can see, she's alive." spoke EJ as he took a few steps closer, "Nurse Ann found her as she was coming back to the mansion, she found her body laying on the edge of where Slender's territory ends and the rest of forest. She also claims that ______ wasn't there when she left, so she probably appeared a little later that same day."

Jeff's hand trembled slightly as he reached out to touch your face with the back of his hand, yet hesitated slightly when his hand could almost feel the warmth of your skin.

But that's when he took a minute to really take in the rest of your appearance.

Your entire body even your face was dirtied in dried mud and soil, your fingernails were dirty and chipped, your arms and cheeks were decorated in scratches and cuts of various sizes, and your clothes.. seemed to have been replaced with a clean hospital gown and your missing shoes were replaced by socks.

EJ continued on, "And so you don't go attacking me, Nurse Ann changed her clothes. According to her they were tattered and beyond repair, and that they were completely soiled in blood."

"Blood?" Jeff spoke up in slight concern,

"The blood wasn't hers."

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik gets caught playing his favourite sport: Price Watching.

cw: sad Nik is sad; pining, wingman Laswell.

"What're you smiling at?"

"Hm?" Nik dragged his eyes away from where the captain was giving his briefing to the rapt attention of the gathered operators to give Laswell the side eye.

She raised an eyebrow.

"He did the thing," Nik said, unhelpfully.

"The thing."

"Da, the thing he does."

"Nik, Price does a lot of things..."

"You know," he grabbed the straps of an invisible carrier vest, rolled onto his toes and thrust his hips a little at the air, the movement rippling up the length of his torso in a perfect imitation of the captain currently gesturing over a map table at the front of the room, "the thing."

She smacked a hand over her mouth to stifle the guffaw and ended up blowing an undignified half-raspberry into her palm. Sergeant MacTavish raised his eyebrow at her before returning his attention to Price's briefing. She glowered at Nik.

"Laswell, that was very unprofessional," Nik breathed, amused.

"That's rich coming from you, I thought I was the only one who had noticed that," she hissed back in the practiced method of a woman used to keeping her voice hushed in the earshot of others.

Nik hummed and let the conversation lapse as John continued to walk them through the jump and intended target. Nik had read the file four times over and already forwarded his questions ahead of time. As they progressed onto assignments, he leaned towards Laswell again. "You are right. There are a lot of Price things."

"Oh?" She smirked. "Go on."

"When he finishes, he will tap the lieutenant once on the chest with a flat palm as he is standing closest."

She shook her head at him, her smile soft. "Nik..."

"I am right, you'll see."

"What else?"

"He blinks rapidly when he smiles. It is..." He trailed off, but Laswell had the creeping suspicion that the word 'beautiful' or even 'cute' had been about to come out of Nik's mouth. "And he twitches his nose before he drinks his coffee."

"Have you thought about asking him out for a coffee rather than watching him drink it from afar like a peeping tom?"

"He would say no."

"To a coffee?"

"Not to the coffee."

"Somethin' to add Nikolai?" Price called over from the front, and the sternness in his voice made both of them snap to attention.

Nik cleared his throat. "Nyet, captain. Only explaining the exfil to Laswell in simpler terms."

"Leave it 'til I'm done, I'll take any questions at the end."

Laswell nodded tightly and then kicked Nik's shin when Price returned to his explanation. "Asshole."

"Da."

"I'll tell him, you know."

"No you will not."

She sighed. They lapsed into silence again.

Nik continued to watch Price with the same open, adoring expression he thought was camouflaged by the crowd of soldiers around him. Laswell had seen that look on him so many times and yet Nik had never tried to progress his adoration beyond pining from afar. She couldn't understand it; they were perfect for each other. Whipsmart intelligence, bloody minded, grumpy in the morning, mischievous, scars behind their eyes... the list could go on.

"You should ask him out," she whispered.

"I am too old for him."

"Now you're just making excuses..."

Someone had the audacity to shush her and she turned to give them the stink eye only to come face to face with the colonel. Alejandro raised an eyebrow and she gestured her apology with two raised hands before turning back to face the front.

She watched as Nik went to receive the written answers to his enquiries to review before the flight, and waited for Price to head off to his office before she approached Nik again. He was studying the note closely, far longer than necessary. "Handwritten," she said meaningfully, her eyes darting over the notes in Nik's hands.

The briefing concluded and Price... did exactly what Nik had said he would do; one pat on Lieutenant Riley's chest as he dismissed the gathered operators to their assignments. Nik raised both eyebrows and pressed his lips together at Laswell in the most comical 'told ya' expression she had ever seen.

"Da."

"You can't torture yourself like this forever, Nikolai."

"Lucky for me that I do not have forever."

"Macabre, even for you."

He sighed, folding his note from Price carefully so that he could tuck it inside his jacket. "Everything beautiful in my life is taken from me, Laswell. My family, my country. If I keep him at a distance, then there is a chance I will not lose him too. Let me have... this."

"This is yearning and agonising from afar while he's oblivious. It doesn't seem like much."

"It is enough."

"There are no guarantees, not in this life."

"This is true."

She stared at him in hopes of more, but he only looked back placidly. "Coward..."

"Da."

She sighed and threw her hands up, exasperated. "One coffee, Nik. What's the worst that could happen?"

"He could fall in love with me."

"Jesus."

This was going to be a project, wasn't it? Well, what was it that Price said? In for a penny, in for a pound.

[angelicsoka]

YOU’RE SOMEBODY ELSE, t. zegras & h. brothers

part two <3

word count | 1.4k

pairings | trevor zegras x fem!hughes!reader, platonic!luke hughes x sister!reader, platonic!quinn hughes x sister!reader, platonic!jack hughes x sister!reader, 

summary | the youngest hughes sibling is slowly becoming someone she can’t recognize

warnings | mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, and depression. ANGST. not proofread. this is not a very happy fic, based on the song you’re somebody else by flora cash. no use of "y/n". lowercase intended. uses of the nicknames for reader include: miss sunshine, bub, & kid

a/n | i’m surprised with how my other post turned out, i definitely was not expecting that lol. here's another sad fic, based on another sad song. i wrote this at 1 am when i couldn’t sleep, so i apologize if this sucks. 

you held the balance of the time

that only blindly i could read you

but i could read you

it's like you told me

go forward slowly

it's not a race to the end

she was their sunshine. the youngest hughes sibling and luke’s twin sister was an open book. she wore her heart on her sleeve, and was the sweetest soul around. she had her brothers  wrapped around her finger, and it didn’t take long for trevor zegras to fall for her enchanting smile. he made her happy, something only her family had ever truly achieved. quinn remembered the moment she ran into his room, threw herself on his bed as she squealed: “quinny, i think i’m in love!”

quinn held a soft smile on his face as she went on and on about the date trevor had taken her on. she had trusted him to hold this secret until the couple was ready to tell the two other hughes brothers, who would more than likely overreact. “well, bub, i’m happy for you, but if he hurts you, you tell me and i’ll break his face.” quinn promised, laughing when she hit his shoulder in retaliation. 

“please, as if!” she laughed, getting up to hug quinn. “thanks, quinny. i love you.”

“i love you too, kid.” quinn watched as she practically bounced out of his room. she was so clearly in love, blinded by it even. maybe that's where everything went wrong. maybe they moved too fast, maybe she needed to learn to truly love herself before she could truly love him.

you were the better part

of every bit of beating heart that i had

whatever i had

i finally sat alone

pitch black flesh and bone

couldn't believe that you were gone

trevor zegras loved her, he loved her more than he thought he would ever be able to love someone. and it wasn’t that she didn't love him, it was that she didn't love herself. she made trevor a better person, made him want to do right by others. if she had taken the time to take care of herself like she had taken care of everyone else, maybe they could’ve made it. maybe, he had loved her too much. maybe, they were doomed from the start.

now, trevor was alone, unsure of what to do. she had left him, claiming that she wasn’t ready. that she loved him, but she could never love him like how he loved her. that she didn’t know how to love herself, so how could she love him? still, trevor blamed himself. he was angry that he couldn’t have shown her how much good she brought to this cruel world. he spent too many nights stuck in thought about her, about how things could’ve been different.

she spent too many nights stuck in thought about how the world would be better without her. about how things would be better for everyone if she was gone.

well, you look like yourself

but you're somebody else

only it ain't on the surface

well, you talk like yourself

no, i hear someone else though

now you're making me nervous

change is inevitable. it is bound to happen, yet the youngest hughes sibling feared change. she felt herself becoming a person she could no longer recognize, it was like her body was a house that had been intruded by unwelcome visitors. she looked the same, yet she had changed so much. 

she never told her brothers the real reason she had broken up with trevor, instead she simply told them they had grown apart. however, one look at trevor zegras told them it was more than just that. it was after that they began to notice the subtle changes in her: the joyous laughs that use to fill the lake house were much more quiet and less frequent, and her smile never quite met her eyes.

it was after luke caught a glimpse of the scars that littered his twin’s thighs and stomach that they knew it was serious. luke tried to talk to her, to figure out what was going on but she would find anyway to divert the conversation, to get away from the inevitable change.

luke led his twin into the basement where quinn and jack were waiting. he had promised a movie night, just him and his sister and god, did he feel guilty about what he was about to do. he quickly shut the door, blocking her only way out. the look on her face made him want to break down. the once bright, bubbly girl looked nervous and so very tired. tired like she knew she couldn’t keep going like this without telling someone.

she took one look at her older brothers before breaking down in sobs. luke was quick to embrace her, jack and quinn on their feet in an instant. the words tumbled out, the need to tell someone being so unbearably overwhelming.

“i can’t do it anymore. i can’t keep living like this. i can’t look in a fucking mirror because i hate myself! i hate how i look, the way i talk and laugh! that’s why i do this to myself because i fucking deserve it!” she rolled up her sleeve, revealing the healing scars.

 “there’s this fucking war going on in my head and i’m losing. i can’t keep going, i don’t wanna keep going! i wish that i could go back to when i was a kid, to when i wasn’t so fucked in the head.” the words just kept coming, as well as the tears. she couldn’t see it, but her brothers were in shambles at this revelation. the fact that their sister hated herself so much she would physically hurt herself, that she couldn’t see how much she meant to them. “maybe i’m just better off dead.”

“don’t say that, don’t you ever fucking say that or even think that.” luke pulled back, looking to his sister. 

“bub, why didn’t you tell us you felt this way?” quinn questioned, watching as she took the tissue jack offered her. she sat on the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. jack sat beside her, looking at her with teary eyes. luke was on her other side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. quinn sat in front of her, a broken look on his face; he was the oldest of them all, he was supposed to protect them. why couldn’t he have protected her from this?

“i didn’t want to be a burden.” she sniffled, avoiding eye contact. jack scoffed beside her, pulling her gaze to him. 

“you? a burden? miss sunshine, you could never be a burden. your feelings are not a burden.” she felt relieved, glad that she would not have to carry this weight alone. tears began to cascade down her face as she allowed jack to hug her. she cried as her twin and oldest brother joined.

“you are so loved, miss sunshine. so fucking loved.” quinn kissed her forehead, a smile creeping on to her face. 

“thank you.” she rasped out, drying her eyes. she fell silent for a moment, deep in thought. “i was promised a movie night…” she trailed off, a smile adorning her face. this time it reached her eyes. “but first, i have someone i need to talk to.”

she stood up, walking to the basement bathroom. she closed the door behind her, taking a seat on the lid of the toilet. she dialed a number on her phone, hesitating slightly before she hit the call button. it rang a couple times before he picked up. “hey, z, you busy?”

“are you alright?”

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. just really needed to hear your voice.” she smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he questioned, concern clear in his voice.

“yeah, i'll explain everything when you get here next week, i just needed to hear your voice.” she heard distant voices on his end, followed by rustling as he pulled the phone away from his ear. 

“i’m sorry, but i gotta go.” he sounded upset, still clearly very concerned about her.

“that's okay, z. uh, before you go, i’m sorry... about everything.”

“its okay, it'll all be okay.” more distant voices could be heard, “i gotta go, i love you.” he ended the call, probably not realizing what he had said. it was in that moment, she knew everything would be alright.

i saw the part of you

that only when you're older, 

you will see too

you will see too

[shiggyscumrag]

HEY HEY !! Just read your Logan fic and I NEED MORE , your writing is amazing. Please could we get some pain kink/masochist Logan with a slightly dom reader , fem or gn idm!!!

I HOPE YOU ARE WELL !!!

(Specifcally thinking of the scene where he puts the cigar out on his hand.)

HEYYY POOKIE!!!! 💋💋 thank you so much you’re too sweet 🫶🏻 I am in LOVE with this request so I will indulge you lol. I did not proofread this so I apologize for any warnings I might miss and for any mistakes/misspellings!!

Synopsis: Logan was having so much fun teasing and edging you all night long, while you were growing more frustrated by the minute. Deciding you aren’t waiting any longer, you hop on top and show him just how you want it. Maybe some pain will make him remember who’s in charge.

Warnings: choking, biting, hickies, edging, top reader with sub Logan, hair pulling, Logan using his claws on you, freaky shiz

One hand circling at your clit and the other wrapped around your throat. Tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks as his cock pushed in and out of you at an absolutely brutal pace. Your legs over his shoulder stretched as far as they could possibly go. Panting to keep up you were getting close again. He knew that, yet Logan just loved the flush on your face and the tears in the corner of your eyes too much to stop. Then he did. Pulling both his hands away and stalling his hips still deep inside you.

“How much longer are you gonna make me wait!” You whine out hands starting to trail down to your clit. Hoping to find some relief since he’s enjoying his games a little too much.

“No, no, now you know better than to try that.” He grumbles in a raspy manner wrapping his hands around your wrists pinning them above your head. Face to face he plants a kiss to each cheek and then your jaw slowly working his way down your neck. He places a gentle kiss on each collar bone, you start arching up your chest to meet his hot lips. Kissing down in between your tits he starts moving farther tickling the skin on your stomach with his beard. Coming back up right before he could place a kiss on your clit he laughs.

“How bad do you want it?” He has to be joking right? You’ve been begging to cum for an HOUR! Retracting his claws only an inch or two he drags them across your outer thighs, the cold metal making you shiver.

“Real fucking bad.” You tease letting your voice lower into a deeper octave feigning a whimper, your legs snake around his waist bringing him even closer. Smirking he leans farther down to kiss you slightly loosening his grip on your wrists. Perfect.

Using your body strength you flip him onto his back now holding his hands above his head. Grinding down on his dick he groans in confusion.

“What the hell? This is hot, but-” interrupting him your other hands covers his mouth. He tried to move his hands but you hold steady so he doesn’t put up a fight. Stilling he gives into your little game.

“I want to cum. So hold on hot stuff.” Not giving him any warning you slip him in with no hands. Moaning loud his hands instinctively went to grab your hips. Holding strong you let out a laugh beginning to ride him.

“Not tonight baby. You had your chance to fuck me. I’m in charge now pretty boy.” You lean down whispering into his ear. Placing a kiss right behind his ear you continue to bounce on his cock. Biting down hard on his pressure point has him moaning loudly right in your ear. You taste a little metallic in your mouth. You can feel him twitch in you and it had your walls fluttering around him. Looking down at him you see his claws starting to poke out again, and an idea popped up in your pretty little mind.

“Use your claws on me.” You almost laughed at how his tightly shut eyes opened so wide so quickly. It was inhumanly fast. No pun intended.

“What?” He asks almost like you’re fucking crazy. Maybe he’s a little right.

“Scratch down my back like I do yours. Just be a little more gentle than me.” Pulling your hand off his wrist he sits up his chest meeting yours. He chuckles under his breath at your comment, his hands finding the small of your back squeezing slightly. You jumped a little when you felt his cold claws start to apply pressure on the top of your shoulders. Looking longingly into Logan’s eyes you don’t hold back the moan that breaks from your throat when you feel him start dragging his claws down your back. The pressure breaking your skin lightly, marks forming in their wake. Halfway down your head falls back and you feel really close. The sting and sudden burn has your vision blurring in the best way possible.

“Fuck you’re so sexy.” He’s grinning wide with a scrunch in his brow. Biting your lip you look back down at him, your legs growing tired but you’re determined to make him cum with no help. Maximum effort as Wade would say. Your left hand finds his throat squeezing hard and pulling him into a sloppy hot kiss while the other grips his shoulder. You start to bounce faster curving your pelvis into his. He starts to pull away moaning but you hold onto his bottom lip, biting him playfully before letting go.

“Holy shit- I’m gonna cum!” He grunts out. Holding back a very obvious whine. It came out a little bit at the end. He was gonna be the death of you.

You almost cum from those words alone. Moaning, coming out more like a bratty whine, you take your hand away from his throat to rub your clit. The hand on his shoulder moving to the base of his neck, pulling on his hair deliciously. Head falling back Logan’s hands crush your waist forming a bruising grip. Just from the pure pleasure consuming him. Finding the perfect rhythm you can feel the final stroke before you cum all over his cock. Milking him you can feel him fill you up no more then a few seconds later. The shudder that runs through his body has your body heating up and your lips curl into a smile.

“Logan! Oh fuck- fuck that feels so good!” You’re now shaking as you slow your pace. Still riding out your high his hands make their way to your hips guiding you.

“God, you ride me so pretty princess. Made me feel so good.” Kissing your neck he starts to give you a hickey. Moaning his name again you feel satisfied.

I’ll write more masochist and or sadist Logan in the future bc I enjoyed writing this but I’m not completely satisfied with it.

[gaycragula]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request Ghost x assassin male reader who surprises Ghost with a sweet passionate kiss while hanging upside down?

Spider-Man Kisses

Pairing: Ghost x M!Reader Word Count: 679 Warning(s): Suggestive content, kissing, implications of a boner, descriptions of blood and gore, outright violence for the first 2 paragraphs, blood, assassin reader, assassination, graphic descriptions of blood Masterlist

Extra notes: Intended for m!reader but could be read as gn!reader. also im so sorry it took me forever to get to this </3

You let out a quiet grunt as you yanked your blade from a man’s body, pulling a handkerchief from your pocket to wipe it down. The man clawed at your boots, whatever he was trying to say coming out as gurgles as blood dripped from his mouth. You kicked his hand away, grimacing at the streak of blood he left on you. 

It wasn’t long before the sounds of him struggling stopped and you let out a breath. You removed the ring from his finger and pocketed it, evidence that he was dead. He was a high priority target, you’ll get paid nicely for the kill. 

You made your exit, quick and quiet, making use of the alleyway system to stay out of sight until you were a comfortable distance from the crime scene. Your pace slowed when you noticed a familiar figure appear ahead of you, walking in the opposite direction. 

His apartment was in that direction, you assumed that’s where he was heading. You debated for a moment whether or not to cut him off, surprise him if you will. It wasn’t often you got the chance to catch him off guard. 

It was a quick decision as you rerouted yourself to cut him off in the most convenient manner and you perched yourself atop a fire escape. Not long after, you spotted the outline of your boyfriend in the distance again. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. 

You didn’t get to see him very often. Both your current jobs keeping you separated most days. He must’ve just gotten back that day, it was rare that he wouldn’t call when he was home. 

As he got closer, an idea popped into your head and you quickly put it into action. You hooked one leg around the railing of the fire escape, making sure it would hold your weight. You waited a little longer, listening to the sounds of his steps before you slipped yourself off the fire escape, ending up a few feet in front of him, upside down. 

“Surprise!” You smile, trusting the punch he threw out of defense would stop before it hit you. 

“Bastard,” you hear Ghost hiss out as he drops his fist. Despite the harsh name, you watched his face soften when he saw you. His usual cold demeanor warming up ever so slightly. You swear you could see a smile dance over his face for a split second before it went still again. 

You chuckle out an apology before gesturing for him to come closer. Once he was in reach, you grabbed his face gently and pulled him into a kiss that quickly turned heated. “Couldn’t help myself,” you whisper between kisses, smiling against Simon’s lips. His lips were rough, as they often were, but you couldn’t help but love the way they felt against yours. “Missed you so much.”

Ghost’s hands found your arms and he mumbled something against your lips before separating. “C’mon down.”

“Right, one moment please, my good sir,” you tease before unhooking your leg and, with the help of Ghost, getting down on the ground. 

You weren’t down for more than two seconds before Simon had you backed against a nearby wall, his lips back on yours. Your hand moved to cup his face while his moved to your waist.  Both of you were breathless when you parted, chests heaving as you looked at each other. 

Ghost leaned into you, placing his forehead on yours. You smile up at him, rubbing your thumb along his jawline before you trailed your hand into his blonde hair, brushing your fingers through it. His eyes lidded as he moved to kiss you again, his hand traveling under your shirt to sit on your waist. “Your place?” You breathe out as he separates and  leans down to kiss your neck. 

He nods against you. “Now,” the desperate tone he had mixed with the roughness of his voice had your heart skipping a beat, your pants suddenly feeling too tight as you grabbed Simon’s hand and tugged him in the direction of his apartment. 

[scoonsalicious]

6.1 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, nudity, Bucky's lies come back to bite his ass.

Please note: I'll be taking a break from posting starting on Thursday, May 16th to focus on writing, and will resume posting on Thursday, May 23rd.

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: Porn. The last chapter was porn.

A/N: Sorry, besties; not sure what happened. I set this up to post at 445 per usual, and when I came back on, I saw it still hadn't gone up, so I'm doing it manually. I apologize for this screw up!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and Major. He had to pee, but he didn’t want to get up. God, he never wanted to get up. If he could stay wrapped up with her like this, for the rest of his life, he thought, he would die happy. The very idea struck him like a brick– he’d given a lot of thought to his own death over the years, but never, not once, did he ever consider the possibility that he might actually die happy until this very moment. 

If she was in his life when he went, he realized, he very well could.

Major shifted in her sleep and snuggled further into Bucky’s chest with a contented sigh, and he felt his heart swell. If he wasn’t careful, at the rate his feelings were going, he was at risk of proposing to her before lunch. 

After about fifteen more minutes of blissfully watching Major sleep in his arms, Bucky couldn’t hold off his bladder any longer. Gently extricating himself from Major’s embrace so as not to disturb her, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to the bathroom. 

After he’d finished and washed his hands, he made his way back toward Major’s bed. As he passed by the string of clothes he’d discarded the night before, he heard a buzzing coming from his pants. He reached down and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID.

Lily. Again.

Bucky sighed and took himself back to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him as he accepted the call.

“Hey, Lil, what’s up?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of Major’s whirlpool tub.

“Hey, Jamie,” she said, and Bucky could immediately tell something was wrong. She sounded… off, distressed. “Listen,” she continued, “I know you and Sam probably had a late night last night, and I hate bothering you…”

“What’s wrong, Lil?” Bucky asked, growing concerned now. 

“Well, I drove out to Langston Park to run the trails,” Lily began, “and I don’t know if I ran over a nail or had a slow leak, or what, but when I got back to the car, my tire was flat. I was kind of hoping you could meet me up here and help me change it?”

Bucky ran a hand over his stubble. “Shit,” he said. “You know I would in a heartbeat, Lil, but–”

“No, yeah,” Lily interrupted him. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m sure someone will drive by and I can flag them down for help–”

“Lily Anne McIntyre, you are not going to wave down a stranger and just hope that they’re not a murderer or a rapist,” Bucky said into the phone, a little louder than he intended. “Listen, I’m on my way, but I’m in the city, so it’s going to take me a little while, okay? Just… just stay in your car with the doors locked until I get there.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Jamie!” Lily’s voice was full of relief. “You’re my hero! I owe you, big time!”

Bucky cracked a smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Give me about forty-five minutes to get to you, okay? And remember, lock. your. doors.” 

“I promise,” Lily agreed before ending the call. 

Bucky stood up from the edge of the tub and went back into the bedroom and quietly put his clothes back on. Sitting down at the edge of Major’s side of the bed, he leaned down and began pressing kisses to her shoulder and collarbone until she stirred and started to stretch. 

With a lazy moan that sent the blood straight to Bucky’s dick, Major sleepily blinked her eyes open. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” she asked him, her voice seductively husky with sleep. “Come back to bed.”

Bucky wanted to. Oh god, he really, really wanted to. “I’m so sorry, sugar,” he told her, leaning down to give her a proper kiss. 

“Bucky,” she laughed, pulling back from him, “I just woke up; I’m sure I have horrible morning breath.”

“Like I would ever care.” He cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers, gently running his tongue along her lips so she opened her mouth to him. 

After a long moment, they broke apart, and Bucky rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said softly. “But I’ve got to go.”

Major nuzzled her cheek against his. “So, don’t,” she murmured. “Stay.”

Bucky sighed. “I can’t. Lily’s got a flat tire; she’s waiting on me to come help her change it.” 

Major let out a puff of air through her lips. “Well, give me five minutes to get dressed and I can come with you,” she offered hopefully. 

“I’d love that, doll,” Bucky said, frowning, “but Lily’s still pissed off about the bar and…” he ran a hand behind his neck, suddenly realizing how stupid this was going to sound, “I haven’t told her I’ve been seeing you.”

The change that came over Major was nearly imperceptible, but Bucky clocked it, all the same. Her eyes narrowed, her shoulders tensed and she pulled back from him by a hair.

“So,” Major began slowly, “where did she think you were last night when she called you, then? You said you’d already told her what you were up to. If she didn’t know you were with me, what did she think you were doing?”

“I told her I was having a guys’ night out in the city with Sam,” Bucky admitted, hating himself now for even deeming the lie necessary in the first place.

“I see.” The words were clipped, Major’s voice void of any emotion, and Bucky knew he’d fucked up. Immensely. “Well, you better get going, then, if Lily’s waiting on you.”

“Major.” Bucky put a hand on her arm, but she got up out of the bed, dragging the topsheet with her to wrap around herself and keep her body covered from him, as if now, suddenly, after everything they’d already done together, she no longer wanted him to see her naked. “Can we just–”

“You should go, Bucky,” she said again, not meeting his eye, and Bucky felt like absolute shit. 

“Can I call you later?” he asked, and he heard the note of desperation in his own voice, but Major just shrugged a shoulder. He tried to lean in to her to give her a kiss goodbye, but she stood there, still as a statue, so he simply pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed before showing himself to the door.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up, and he’d blown it. She’d probably never want to see him again, and honestly, could he blame her? He’d lied about being with her, like she was some kind of dirty secret. Sam had been right, though Bucky would never admit it to him. Why was he letting Lily’s opinion dictate how he lived his life?

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part two

authors note: well, holy shit, the response to this has been so unexpected yet insanely appreciated and humbling! the kind words of support and interest really have been so wonderful to receive. thank you thank you thank you!

this ended up much longer than i intended, but i couldn't find a "good" place to break it in half, so i apologize for the length.

i also feel like this is a bit on the boring but necessary side in terms of setting the scene and backdrop for what's to come....

i also feel like this is gonna def be more than 4 parts, so sorry!!!!

warnings: language, slight sexy time, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

words: 7.5k

tag gang: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @tshepisho @lizzycaraballo-blog @xiamentshoneypot

“I need a break.” He slid out of you, the absence of his thick dick noticeable and borderline uncomfortable. Despite the fact that your voice was hoarse, limbs jello, and pussy tender as all outdoors, you still wanted him. Wanted to feel him inside you. But you knew you also needed some amount of time for your body recoup for the next round, so you made logic overpowered lust.

He made a sound, lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “So fucking needy for this dick.”

“Shut up.” It was intentionally not a denial, because he wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been a shitty past couple weeks, what with parent teacher conferences, your least favorite time of the year. There were only so many different ways you could try to gently explain to parents that their child wasn’t the next Cornel West and actually could benefit from “additional evaluations.” But that almost always went over their heads as they attempted to tell you, the professional, the real reason why their child wasn’t doing well.

You were just over all of it and damn near at your wits end when you got the text from Joe that he’d be in town this weekend. That goofy ‘i’m about to get some good dick’ smile was damn near stamped on your face in the days preceding his arrival. You needed an outlet, and wearing yourself out on his dick until you were physically incapacitated happened to be the perfect one, the best one.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have options, you did, but they were subpar. And that was the problem with having a chance to experience superior dick, everything else that followed was mid. No one had ever fucked you like Joe. No man before him had ever made you come from just penetration. You always needed more. Had to sometimes physically instruct them on what you needed. Not with him. He gave you more—-the man could and had stayed with his face buried between your legs for hours on end—-but it wasn’t necessary. He could fuck you to a toe curling, light blinding climax with just a few good, deep strokes.

And yes, you still struggled with the guilt of fucking someone else’s man, but in times like this, where you were beyond stressed the fuck out, all you could think about was getting off and decreasing that stress. The guilt session could come later.

“What’s wrong?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. You could both be around each other and not say a word without an ounce of discomfort. It was nice.

“Parents suck.” You answer, bluntly, afterwards realizing how vague that is. “I’ve had parent teacher conferences the past couple weeks, and they’ve been getting on my nerves trying to tell me how to do my job.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“Beyond, and makes me feel like they’re insinuating I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do. They just don’t want to hear it.” They prepared you in school, to some extent, to expect those select parents that weren’t the easiest to work with but to always stand behind your professional judgment regardless if one agreed or not. And for the most part, your parents in the years since you’d been teaching were relatively chill. It just seemed that this time of the year is when all of them decided to be in their difficult era.

One hand behind his head, Joe looks over at you. “Then that’s on them.” He shrugs. “You can’t make them hear what they don’t want to hear.”

Groaning loudly, you turn on your side, propping your own head up with your hand. “I know. It just sucks for the kids. There’s a couple who might be on the spectrum or have ADHD, but I can’t outright say it, so all I can do is strongly imply. And trust me, my implications are clear as fucking day. It’s just annoying when I have to work harder than I should to get people to be their kids' advocate, not their adversary.”

He’s quiet for a second and then asks. “What’s the best part of your job?”

The answer doesn’t even require contemplation. “My students. Hands down. I love kids. I love helping them learn and seeing the excitement on their face when they finally grasp a concept I’m teaching. It’s super rewarding.” 

His gaze lingers on you, “Then focus on that. You do this because it’s a passion and a love and you’re clearly good at it.” 

His words marinate over you, reminiscent of past conversations where you’re the one feeding positivity into him, reminding him to not lose focus of what’s most important and why he does what he does. The roles being reversed is different but nice. It’s nice to have him to talk to, it’s always easy to do so.

You move your hand to his chest and slowly walk your fingers downward. “Good dick and good advice. This trip is a double win for me.”

His jaw clenches when you begin to stroke him, sinfully and intentionally slowly. A smirk forms on your face. He’s just as needy for you as you are for him.

Joe’s voice is hoarse with desire. “You ready for the next round?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure if physically, you’re well enough, but that’s what epsom salt baths are for. And Motrin. You need him. Climbing on top, you grab his hardened length and align it at your entrance, dew coating the tip and serving as natural lubricant. “But I want to be on top this time.” 

________

“Mommy!”

You’re startled awake by the loud voice, jumping body, and smiling face of your personal alarm clock. The only alarm clock you’ve ever had that you can’t dictate the time it goes off. It takes a second for you to settle yourself, to push away the inappropriate afterthoughts of such a salacious dream—one you’re slightly disappointed couldn’t play out longer—to focus on the little human in front of you.

The shining sun beaming down on you from the curtains you’re certain she opened assists in doing just that. You rub at your eyes, a small, warm smile growing. “Good morning, Callie Bear.”

Her eyes, big, brown, and always full of curiosity are focused on you as she stops jumping and lands on her knees. “You’re up!”

You chuckle, how can you not be up with a rambunctious four year old jumping on your bed and screaming for you to wake up? ”I’m up.”

“Yay!” She cheers, tiny fists raised up and victory. “Can we have pancakes?” 

“I don’t know.” You pretend to contemplate her request, index finger against your bottom lip. “Can we?”

She pouts, and you bite on your lip to suppress your laughter. Her arms cross over her tiny chest, bonnet covered head tilting to the side. “May we have pancakes?”

Sometimes, you feel bad for your daughter, having a teacher for a mother. You’re always going to be on her about anything academic related, especially English. “We certainly can.” Yawning, you sit up in bed and scratch your scalp through your bonnet. “But first, hygiene.” 

Swooping her into your arms, you’re met with a chorus of giggles as you tickle her stomach with your index finger. Walking into the bathroom, you sit her on the counter and reach her her toothbrush, putting on her (Halle Bailey) Little Mermaid themed toothpaste before letting her do her thing as you do hers.

This is the first time in a while that you’re grateful for your daughter waking you up so early on a weekend. Those dreams….you’d be lying if you said they didn’t happen more than you’d like to admit. You’d tried to figure out what triggered them but have yet to be successful. 

The simplest answer would be that you miss him. You miss Joe, but that’s also the answer you refuse to admit. You can’t miss him. Don’t have the right to miss someone else’s man, someone else’s husband. 

All you can do is be appreciative that one of the biggest regrets in your life brought you your biggest blessing.

Calista, Callie, to almost everyone she knows, was a complete and utter surprise.

It was time for your women’s wellness exam, and in the set of questions they asked you, one was of course the date of your last menstrual cycle. Being stumped for a second was normal, hence why you used your beloved Flo app to track your cycle. But, it’s when you opened the app and realized you hadn’t logged a period in two months, you knew.

Didn’t need a blood test to tell you the obvious. 

You were most definitely pregnant. 

You’d used Flo consistently since you were 14 years old, there was no way in hell you’d forgotten for two whole months to input the period dates.

So, after crying and damn near having a panic attack, your doctor provided you with pamphlets. Options, as they were called. You wouldn’t review them until a couple days later, needing that time to process that you were actually pregnant. Pregnant by a married man that you’d ended things with, ironically, on the night your daughter was conceived.

What in the actual fuck were you supposed to do? Send him a text and say ‘nvm. Congrats, we’re expecting. Are you gonna tell your wife or should I?’ To this day, you’re convinced that the nasty wave of ‘morning sickness’ you experienced the first few weeks of finding out you were with child was actually just your absolute disgust that you’d allowed another woman’s husband to impregnate you.

It was like you were walking in the same footsteps your mother molded for you. Something you swore you’d die before letting happen.

What’s that saying? We make plans, and God laughs. Well, he must be having a field day with you. 

It was actually in confiding in Mariah, your best friend since kindergarten, that you were able to look past your shame and panic to see this for what it is.

“You want to have kids, don’t you?” She asked in an obvious tone, picking through the big bowl of popcorn you two shared while Insecure played at a low volume on your TV. “Well, here’s the kid.”

“I wanted to have kids with a husband, Mariah.”

“Well—“

“Shut up.” You tossed a few pieces of popcorn in her direction. This was not the time for her occasional joke. You were too busy having a mental breakdown.

“Does it really matter how the baby got here? Aren’t you the one always saying kids are a blessing? Why are you trying to block yours?” It’s a fair, valid point that you’re too stubborn to want to hear, even if it’s what you needed to hear. “I’m just saying if you’ve been blessed with being a mom, something you’ve always wanted. Seems kinda silly we’re having this discussion instead of baby names, baby showers, and gender reveals.”

“I’m not doing a gender reveal.” That much you are absolutely sure of. Never. But, Mariah’s words do resonate with you. Why were you so caught up on how you got pregnant? Yeah, it was fucked up, but dwelling on it did nothing but make you feel worse. You always imagined this would be a happy occasion, couldn’t you find it in you to be happy? Regardless of the father and that whole Tubi of a situation.

There was a life growing inside of you, no matter the dynamics of the creation, the child had done nothing wrong, didn’t deserve to be blamed. And the truth was you weren’t really that upset, you were more happy than anything, if you really allowed yourself to feel without reservation. Borderline excited, even. Maybe even at the fact that you would always have a small piece of him with you in a really big way. 

Even if he wouldn’t be a part of that experience.

And it was then that you decided. You didn’t care what anyone thought, couldn’t think about how your mother, who was completely unaware about your relationship with Joe for the entire three years, would react. You’d figure out the rest of this later because you were having this baby, but you were having this baby by yourself. Joe couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t know.

And almost five years later, nothing has changed. Yes, you absolutely couldn’t see yourself making it through your pregnancy and even the first few weeks postpartum without the help of your mom and Mariah. But, for the most part, you did everything you could by yourself for your daughter, wanting her to see the strength and perseverance of a strong, single mother. 

She finishes brushing before you and spits out the remnant toothpaste in her mouth. “Are we gonna see grandma today?”

You finish a few seconds after, spitting and wiping your mouth before answering. “We certainly are.”

“Yay!” She celebrates as you bring the towel to her face, giving it a gentle cleanse before tossing it into the hamper. Callie wastes no time in removing her bonnet and giving her curls a good shake. The two of you share a laugh as you follow suit. 

 “Pancake time?”

Separating some of her coils, you answer with a wink. “Let mommy wash her face, and I’ll be right out, kiddo.”

“Okay.” Nodding, she jumps off the counter and hurries into the kitchen knowing good and well what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“Sis, what have I told you about jumping off this damn counter?” All you hear is giggling in the wake of her dash. This child has daredevil tendencies that bring out a certain, uncomfortable level of anxiety. Medical bills weren’t in the budget, so you needed her to calm the hell down. 

She probably gets it from–

Shaking your head from unnecessary thoughts, you quickly work your way through your routine and eventually meet her in the kitchen to find her on her tablet, probably trying to figure out what movie to put on while you two cook. On the weekends, you remove the passcode from her device but still maintain the time limits for her overall screen time. 

You refuse to allow her to become an “ipad kid.”

“What’cha pick for us?” Moving through the kitchen, you pull out the necessary items and place them on the small island. 

Climbing onto the barstool, she flips the screen with a proud smile. “Moana!”

Gasping with faux surprise, you ask, “again?”

Much like her mother who was like her mother, an affinity and passion for all things Disney is another thing your child inherited. She could watch Disney movies for the rest of life and never get bored. And Moana was at the top of that list, the new Little Mermaid was a close favorite, but Moana resonated deeply with Callie for reasons you still don’t fully understand. 

Well, she is half Pacific Islan—

Clearing your throat, you and Callie get to work on breakfast, both singing along and dancing to the catchy Disney music. It’s a sweet bonding moment between the two of you, a bit of a tradition on the weekends. You’re not much of a cook, at all, but breakfast food is relatively simple. And thankfully, your child is not as picky as some other kids. A stack of pancakes with sausage is always enough to satisfy her. 

It’s when you’re both sitting in the living room, on the floor, legs crossed while you eat the delicious breakfast that you’d prepared together that a thought crosses your mind.

A distraction could be beneficial, the dream from earlier still floating around in the back of your head. And not even the dream in as much as the main event from the theme. 

You needed some dick. It’d been too long, that itch needing a scratch to give you some much needed reset. 

So, it’s when Callie is focused on the scene in Moana when Maui’s hook is broken that you grab your phone and shoot off a text. 

You free today?

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzes with a response. 

Just tell me when and where.

________

Walking through the doors of your mother’s hair salon is always an experience, nostalgic almost, to all the times you and your friends would hang out there with the hopes that you could get free or discounted services. Usually free for you, not so much for your friends. 

Business was still business.

The familiar smell of hair oils, deep conditioner, and the overall sound of flat irons sizzling through hair brings a warm smile to your face. It’s things like this, this place even, that remind you why you decided to come home after college.

Home, where the closest major stores like Target and Walmart, and even the airport, are nearly half an hour away. Where you have only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school. Where many of the streets are two laned and littered with storefronts, like your mom’s salon. Hell, the freaking bank, post office, and city hall are in the same building.

Everyone knows everyone, and for the most part, everyone looks out for each other. 

It isn’t for everybody, this almost Hallmark movie type setup. You know this. Hence why many leave for school and never or seldom return. But, for you, it’s home.

It’s also the perfect place to discreetly and raise the daughter of a celebrity.

“Grandma!”

Your mom is in the middle of a conversation with a patron but almost immediately redirects her attention to the equally familiar voice of Calista. “There’s my grandbaby!” Callie runs into your mom’s arms and is peppered with kisses all over. “Looking more and more like your mama every day.”

That genuinely makes you smile. You tend to think she favors Joe more than yourself, usually when she’s making certain facial expressions. She has a lot of his mannerisms, which you are grateful for, happy that she has characteristics from both sides. But any and all of the good things she can take from you, you want her to have.  

Callie’s smile is bright and infectious, as always. “That’s cause mommy’s my mommy!”

You laugh, approaching them and leaning in for your mom’s one armed hug as she has Callie in her other arm. “Hey, mama.”

“Hey, baby.”

Your relationship with your mom has definitely been up and down over the years, which you’d like to think is the standard for most mother-daughters. It’s something that’s arguably strengthened over time, especially post Callie. You’d gained so much more appreciation for your mother raising you on her own as a single parent. There was always appreciation, but infinitely more now as you were also in the same position. 

“I was hoping she could hang out with you for a little bit today. I have some business to take care of. If that’s okay?” 

Your mother gives you the look, the look that indicates she knows there’s more to what you’re saying but she won’t push out of respect for your privacy. And you’re grateful for that. You don’t necessarily want to explain that you need her to keep an eye out on Callie while you attend your dick appointment. 

Sucking her teeth, she starts walking to the back where her office is located. “When have I ever had an issue spending time with my only grandchild?” She has you there. Your mom would take Callie every day if you let her, and you’re so thankful for that. Not even for the tremendous assistance your mom provides but for the close relationship she has with Callie, similar to how close you were with your grandma. “Want me to do her wash day for her while she’s here?”

At that, Callie’s eyes go wide as she starts to whine, “noooo. I don’t want to.”

You chuckle. “That’s how mommy feels too, babes.” You dreaded her wash day as much as you dreaded your own. The women in your family were blessed with long, thick, healthy curls that Callie clearly inherited from you but also her father’s side cause the girl had some hair. “If you don’t mind, mama.”

She waves off your unnecessary added comment and starts to assess the state of Callie’s hair, murmuring comments to herself. 

You lean down in front of Callie and move your hand to her knee. “You sure you’re gonna be okay, sweetie?”

She nods and asks, “can we get ice cream when you come back?”

“We surely can.” You don’t allow her to have a lot of sweets—she already has enough energy as it is—but every so often, you two get the homemade ice cream cones at the local parlor. Sometimes you’ll sit outside and just talk, sharing laughs and inside jokes over the best ice cream anyone could ever have. And considering she’s about to endure a wash day, she deserves it. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

Putting her tablet on her lap, she leans over and hugs you tight. For such a tiny human, she always gives the best, most loving hugs. “I love you too, mama.”

Callie goes back to her tablet, and you issue your mom one more statement of appreciation before heading out so you can have your urge squashed and get back in time to have dessert with your little girl. 

On the car ride there, you send up a quick prayer that this time will be different, that you can get what you need and be gone without being asked to stay. It’s always the same answer, so maybe the last one finally stuck to where he won’t hope.

Won’t get his own feelings hurt.

________

“You know you don’t always have to leave right away.”

Of course.....of course.

You’re in the midst of hooking your bra back on when he hits you with the offer you were stupidly hoping he’d pass on this time around. 

Bold of you to assume you could come get some dick without this man trying to turn it into a cuddle session. 

Your smile is tight as you politely decline. “I don’t want to leave Callie at the salon too long. You never know what she’s hearing.”

It’s a weak excuse, hence him poking a hole right through it. “You know your mom would shut that down right away. Get back in the bed.”

“Really, Amir, I can’t stay.” Once your bra is on, you reach on the ground for your panties, sliding them back on as well. The sooner you get yourself decent, the sooner you can dip.

“Can’t or won’t?”

And here it goes. Sometimes, you wonder why you continue to put yourself in this situation. Amir’s stroke game is nice, but is it really worth this constant routine? You two fuck, he tries to make it more, an argument, silence on both ends for a little while until one of you needs that urge handled. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

It’s been roughly the same since you were in high school.

Amir was your first damn near everything: first crush, first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. It was a textbook small town romance. He was the quarterback, and you were the cheerleading captain. Everyone said you were perfect together and predicted at one point you’d get married after college. Truthfully, you once thought the same. But outside of aesthetics, your relationship was always rocky, borderline toxic. 

He had poor boundaries with other girls but never saw an issue because it never went beyond flirting. And because you were young, dumb, and just as toxic sometimes, you’d intentionally flirt with other guys to piss him off, knowing it was wrong to drag innocents into your Bobby and Whitney of a relationship but more interested in making him see your side of it.. 

Still, young and dumb. Not an excuse, but definitely a reason.

Even as you both went off to college, each attending separate schools, you’d occasionally hookup during the winter breaks. More often during the summer. He was your constant, preferred over allowing random dick into you, especially as he was most familiar and you knew he was clean. The devil you know type of thing.

Post college was when you really ended it, deciding that it was time to put the childish things behind you, time to put him behind you.

And you’d done relatively well for a while, the two of you becoming damn near strangers. Especially when Joe came into the picture. Amir was good in bed, but Joe was heavenly. Just the thought of anyone other than him fucking you at that time was repulsing. 

But, Joe is gone, has been, so now you’re stuck returning to the same nigga you just can’t seem to get rid of because he has a decent sized dick he, mostly, knows how to use.

And your rose can only go so far. 

“Fine. Won’t. Don’t. Not interested.” Standing up, you shoot him a look of challenge, of defiance. “Better?”

Your words understandably tick him off as he cruelly asks, “How long are you gonna let yourself be stuck on him? That nigga abandoned you and his kid, what is there to even be stuck on?”

Regardless of what happened between you and Joe, mostly with how it played out, you refuse to allow anyone to speak badly of him. Specifically when it pertains to his absence in your and Callie’s lives, especially since that was 100% your call. Only a select few know the full story, therefore the majority have no right to speak on it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so please just shut the fuck up.”

“Where is he then, huh? It’s been almost 5 years, Y/N. You need to move the fuck on. He’s your past.” Moving out of the bed, he comes up to you and places one hand to your face. You fight the desire to pull away. His touch is suddenly uncomfortable, feels wrong and noisome. “It’s time to focus on your future.”

Not that you’d ever admit it to Amir, but there’s a hint of truth to his voice. Eventually, random hookups to fulfill your sexual needs will become insufficient. Hell, even now, you still desire to be married, to give Callie that 'traditional' family. The problem is mostly lack of options, even if Amir seems convinced you two should give it another try.

 When hell freezes over. 

Your voice is even and to the point as you finish dressing and pull out your key fob. “Like I said, thanks for the scratch, but that’s all this is.” Without giving him time to talk more shit, you head out the door without another fucking word.

________

“Oh shit, is that ole girl Randy used to mess with?” Joe is only halfheartedly listening to what his cousin is saying, mostly focused on the work email he’s reading on his phone. It’s far and few in between they actually have time off, let alone enough time to go home and be among the rest of family. He’s trying to enjoy it and is enjoying it, but work is always on his mind, hence his inability to ignore the email notification that slid in mid-group conversation. “What was her name?”

“It started with an M, didn’t it?” Jey suggests. “Mariah, I think.” 

It's when the correct name is stated that Joe’s attention is briefly redirected. Mariah was your friend, the reason he was ever introduced to you. It’s a name he hasn’t heard in years. If only that was the same amount of time it’s been since he thought of you. No, instead, you’ve taken up real estate in his mind more than he’d ever like to admit or acknowledge.

“Wait, isn’t that—-” Jimmy is silenced, and out of the corner of Joe’s eye, he can see it’s because Jey gave him a look. That look you give someone when you want them to shut up.

Now…now they have his attention.

“What?” It’s when the twins share a look with each other, Jey shaking his head that Joe puts his phone to the side as Jimmy hits the lock button on his phone. “Let me see.” 

“Look, Uce—”

“I said, let me see.” One thing Joe can’t stand more than anything is when people beat around the bush or try to hide things from him. He prefers people to be upfront and honest, damn whatever feelings come up. The truth is always better, in his mind.

And yet……

Shaking his head, Jimmy blows out a breath and hands his cousin the phone.

Joe looks down and instantly regrets ever pushing the matter.

Five years.

It’s been almost five fucking years since he’s seen that beautiful smile, those deep dimples that were one of the first things he noticed about you, outside of your breathtaking beauty. You looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit heavier, still in all of the right places. Hair a little longer but still the same deep onyx with streaks of purple. You’re smiling and posing with Mariah who also hasn’t changed much outside of a new hair color and the huge baby bump she’s sporting. A baby shower, he’d guess. 

But outside the shock of seeing you, Joe’s attention is also on the third person in the photo. A child, young in age, no more than 4 or 5, black, curly hair styled in two space-buns and a deep dimpled smile that’s almost identical to yours. Her eyes are a beautiful light brown shade, a contrast to your chocolate colored eyes.

But similar to….similiar to his. 

Brows furrowed, Joe is surprised to see you’re tagged in the photo, so he goes to your profile and is even more shocked to find it public. You were always such a private person, but he chalks it up to the fact that the only people who’d really know how to find it would have to be those close to you.

You don’t have a ton of pictures, but he clicks on the first one that has a set of photos of you and the same little girl from the baby shower. It’s dated almost six months ago, so not the newest but better than nothing. The post is a slideshow, so he begins to scroll through the photos, each of them with you and that same child, clearly at various points in her life. The last one stops him for a moment, a photo of you, crying, in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby. 

Swallowing back his emotions, Joe redirects his gaze to the caption:

my calista, my callie, my baby girl. God used one of the hardest periods of my life to bless me with the best gift anyone can receive. every day with you is an adventure. from your incessant questions about the most random of things, constant requests for disney movie marathons, to the way you refuse to part from me without giving the biggest hug and kiss goodbye while yelling ‘i love you, mommy!’. callie, you are my whole heart, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, sweet girl. here’s to year 4 and many many more of having the biggest honor and privilege ever of being your mama bear. 

So many things are going through his head right now. 

You had a child.

You have a child.

Based upon the date of the post, you have a child who will be five years old in a couple of months.

A child who has your smile, but his eyes, his nose, and a complexion that looks the perfect combination of the two of you. She looks like the perfect combination of the two of you.

It’s hard to not jump to the obviously glaring conclusion that all of this brings, and still, he tries to not allow his head to go there. You would….you would never do that. You would never keep his child from him, no matter how things ended between the two of you. There was wrongness to that that reached low levels of depravity, and he just couldn’t conjoin that kind of deception with who he always knew you to be. 

You were a woman who believed and tried to live by her morals. It was the reason you eventually cut him out of your life. Nothing about not telling him he has a child is moral. 

He wordlessly hands the phone back to Jimmy and goes back to reading the email, acting like nothing just happened and he doesn't have a million and one thoughts running through the back of his mind. 

It’s after he walks away, giving off an excuse that he needs to call Hunter to discuss a proposed promo that the conversation commences.

“So, we all just gon act like that lil' girl don’t look like Uce? She even got his eyes, man,” Jimmy, being Jimmy, is the first to say it aloud, the only one to actually verbalize what the others are thinking. 

“Jimmy,” Naomi chides but can’t help adding. “Do you really think that could be his kid?”

Jey decides to join in on the conversation. “It’s possible. They messed around for years.”

“But would she really do that? Have his baby and not even tell him about her?” Naomi only met you a handful of times, but all of the interactions were pleasant, and she secretly thought you and Joe would have made a cute couple if the stars were aligned differently. “She had to have told him.”

Jimmy gestures to the sliding door Joe walked through minutes earlier. “Does that look like he knew?”

“This is all just speculation.” Joseph decides to join the conversation, always the one who prefers to listen to all sides before adding his two cents. “Similiar facial features don’t mean they’re related.”

“No, but add in the timeline plus the way it ended, and you can’t help but lean one way.”

“What did happen between them?” Somewhat newer to this circle, Joseph realizes that’s a topic he’s never really heard much about. He knows his cousin basically has an open marriage and sleeps around, but he’s always heard whispers there was a woman he was with for years. 

“She just ended it one day.” Jey answers with a shrug. “Uce really ain't say much outside of that. It was sudden though.”

“But was it? Three years of waiting around for a guy to maybe or maybe not leave his wife for you?” Naomi serves as a counter, shaking her head and leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “Sounds like more than enough time to me.”

“It wasn’t nothing like that though. They was just messing around,” Jimmy defends.

“He cut off every other woman he was messing with when they were together.” Jey distinctly remembers how his cousin had one woman and only one woman on speed dial during that period, and it was you. It was always you. “I think it was more than just messing around.”

Joseph nods, taking in all this information. “So, if she is his, do you think she kept her a secret to get back at him for not divorcing Jadah?” It’s a bold question, but a valid one that Jey is the first to dispute.

“Naw, I’m with Naomi. Y/N wouldn’t do that.”

Jimmy shakes his head, starting to see how this is all looking to play out. “Well, if that is Joe’s daughter and that’s how he found out he has a child….this shit is about to get real ugly.”

________

Joe tried to tell himself it was just a wild coincidence. Reminded himself that you yourself said you wanted to get married, have kids. And you’d done that, had a kid. However, revisiting your Instagram pictures, in none of your posts did he see a man.

Or a wedding ring.

And just how fucking quickly could you have moved on? Doing the math, you would have had to have someone on speed dial to get pregnant as fast as you did. And that doesn’t line up with who he knew you to be. You were fucking him and only him. 

You were with him and only him.

So that left him and only him.

And like a man hyperfixated on trying to solve a puzzle, he looks at every single post on your Instagram, starting from the year you met up until now. He focuses especially on the posts that include your daughter, not that many, but enough. 

And when it’s all said and done, thoughts vs counterthoughts, logic vs emotion, Joe is 100% convinced that this is his child.

That he’s just now found out he’s a father through fucking Instagram. 

And now he’s pissed because who the hell were you to keep his child from him? He didn’t give a fuck how you felt about him and his being married, that didn’t give you an excuse to hide a whole kid? 

His kid. 

________

“Ready for your bedtime story, Callie Bear?” 

Reading with Callie has been a must since you found out you were pregnant. Your mom always told you how she read to you in the womb and to this day believes it’s why you always tested out so high with your reading abilities, even in the first grade. You’re not sure how accurate it is, having read some studies and whatnot, but you’ve followed suit, reading to Callie even when she was in your belly. Almost five years later, it’s now a tradition. She can’t go to sleep without a story.

She nods happily. You laugh and slide into the bed next to her. Naturally, she cuddles close to you, book already picked out and waiting on the bed. It’s one she’s heard a dozen times before but one of her favorites, so you read it just as theatrically, voice changes, and everything. Her giggles of happiness and merriment warm your heart. You love these one-on-one moments, wishing you could jar them and keep them stored away forever.

You’re a couple chapters in when she starts to yawn, eyes struggling to stay open, that you slide in the bookmark and promise to pick it up again tomorrow. You know Callie is ready to call it a night when she doesn’t protest. 

But, it’s after placing the book on the shelf and going to tuck her into her covers that she hits you with a question that nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy?”

You’re not stupid, far from it. This question was bound to come up, sooner or later. For your own selfish sake though, you were hopeful for later, much much later.

She continues, almost nervous in tone. “Ms. Leah said you need a mommy and a daddy to make a baby, so where’s my daddy?”

Curious how the conversation of where babies came from came about, you make a mental note to discuss this with your daughter’s preschool teacher before working to answer her valid question. Truth be told, you have no idea how to answer it. But if anxiety was the dominant emotion before, sadness and devastation easily topple that at the next thing to come out of her mouth.

“Does he not  love me?”

It’s not until that moment that you truly know what it feels like for your heart to shatter into absolute pieces.

“Oh, baby….” Crouching down beside her bed, you move your hand to her forehead, thumb gently caressing her soft skin. You’re so damn lost on how to handle this, what to say to take away her obvious pain, that you go with the soonest thing that hits the forefront of your brain. “Your daddy…..he….he wasn’t ready to be a daddy.”

It could be the truth, it could be a lie. You never gave yourself—or him—the chance to find out, and up until this point, you never saw an issue with that. But now….now you’re wondering just who you made that decision for. 

And if it was the right one.

Callie’s frown deepens, the answer clearly not one that makes her feel any better. “What if I’m a really good girl? Will he be ready then?”

The shattered pieces are now dust, granulated dust that you struggle to hold together in trembling palms. You bring both hands to her face. “Calista, you listen to me. You are the kindest, sweetest, most amazing little girl in the whole wide world. You don’t need to do anything to be a good girl because you are already a good girl, the best girl.”

Her eyes glaze over as she sniffles and asks in a small voice. “So why doesn’t he want me?”

“Oh, sweetie…” You pull her into a hug, holding her close and tight, as if doing so will allow her to absorb all of the love and adoration you have for this tiny human who made your life have meaning. “I’m gonna talk to him, okay? I’ll….I’ll talk to him.” That’s all you can say, even if it’s not a guarantee, even if you have no idea where such an offer came from. And you hate yourself for doing that, for getting her hopes up over something that may not even happen. You haven’t spoken to Joe in almost five years, there’s no guarantee the number is even still the same.

Still, you know you have to at least try, especially when you pull back and see the renewed hope in her teary eyes, the eyes she shares with the father she’s clearly desperate to know about, to meet, to have. 

You close your eyes and press your forehead against hers, speaking with all the love and affirmation in the world, “I love you, Calista. Always, baby.” 

You’re relieved to hear her reply in a less saddened and more hopeful tone, “I love you too, mommy.”

It’s after you’re certain Callie is knocked out and you’ve exhausted every single step of your nighttime routine that you pace around your room, partially trying to avoid an action you know you need to take. 

Especially when you find his number in your phone from an old text thread you could never find it in you to delete. 

You go back and forth for nearly twenty minutes before deciding on a simple question.

is this still joe’s number?

You feel like a damn child, throwing the phone down on the bed and burying your face into your hands. This is so much more difficult than it needs to be, or maybe it isn’t. You made the executive decision to not make Joe aware of your pregnancy for a variety of reasons that felt solid at the time.

Now…now you don’t know any fucking thing anymore, it seems. 

What you do know is that you nearly jump off the bed when your phone begins to ring. Frowning, you look at the time, wondering who in the hell could be calling you at damn near midnight.

But, it’s when you lift your phone to see the caller you know exactly why someone is calling you at damn near midnight.

Ignoring it is so tempting, but the image of Callie in tears wondering why she’s not loved or wanted is more than enough to trample your selfish desires. Sliding the green button upward, you place the phone against your ear, take a deep breath, and speak, “hi.” 

He exhales, your name leaving his mouth for the first time in years. Hearing his voice, let alone hearing him say your name, creates a heaviness you weren’t expecting. Then again, you weren’t expecting to speak to him at all tonight.

Or ever, for that matter.

Communication is suddenly incredibly difficult as you struggle to string words together to create a cohesive statement. “I’m….I’m sorry for calling so late, but—”

“We need to talk.” While your tone is soft and nervous, his is serious and borderline stoic. It takes you for a bit of a loop, but you try not to put too much into it. The real focus should be why he interrupted you so harshly with such a bold statement. He’s not wrong, but why does he think you need to talk? “I’ll get a flight out tomorrow.”

That breaks you from your thoughts. A what?  “wait—”

“You still at the same place?”

Swallowing, still very much confused, you answer, “yes, but—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

The phone goes silent on the other end, and you realize it’s because he’s ended the call. You must stare at that phone for a good five minutes in complete utter shock. Eventually, coming out of the catatonia, only one thought circulates around your mind.

What in the actual fuck just happened? 

[eph3merall]

some loser!reader lore , but in headcanon form. and headcanons of her in general.

lil longer than i intended for this to be, but fuck it we ball

loser!reader . . .

ೀ ; despises social settings due to a party when she was little. everyone ended up getting too close, bombing her with questions and giving her no room to answer. there were too many people around her, making it feel suffocating—like she was trapped.

ೀ ; has the talent but not the passion for her hobbies. she enjoys art here and there, whether it's drawings and sketches or paintings or even things like photography. she's had so much free time as a child, she taught herself ways to entertain. she's good at drawing, etching out scratchy lines yet they come together so perfectly in the end. but she'll get burnt out, get bored of the activity, or take so many ridiculous 'break's.

ೀ ; gets off track on things a lot. she'll be talking to someone and say something that reminds her of something else, then continue to talk about that and then eventually get back to her main point and by then the person who's she talking with is trying to leave or bored out of their minds.

ೀ ; has this constant guilt in her chest like everything that's went wrong is her fault. she doesn't want to be like this at all, since it makes her apologize every second and she hates the look on people's faces when she does so. namely, chris. chris hates whenever she'd mumble a little 'sorry' for something that just wasn't her fault, resulting in arguments and far too many tears for either of their liking.

ೀ ; often forgets to take care of herself. chris isnt the type to remind her either, nor were her parents. so you'll find her skipping meals, not resting, not having the motivation to do much of anything. she'll resort to marijuana at times like this, and that isn't ever a good idea because it just makes her feel worse.

ೀ ; got picked on as a little kid. those popular kids with their long blonde hair, light up sneakers, and bright clothing. it wasn't like she didn't want to be friends with them, of course she did. she had an unmistakable habit of seeing the good in everyone, even when there wasn't much 'good' to go off of. those girls would laugh in her face, sit at their little round table and gossip about her while she was sitting on that rainbow carpet with a book in her lap. she never understood why.

ೀ ; has a rough relationship with her parents. it's not like they're out of the picture, because they aren't. but whenever she gets reminded of her mom or dad, good memories flood her mind before getting drowned out with the bad ones. constant arguments, hateful eyes, annoyed voices. the beer bottles and rolled joints perched on the kitchen table, practically having to wade through trash to even get to a different room. her childhood cat, her mom ending up selling it because she complained that it was 'taking up space and a waste of money'.

ೀ ; doesn't have all bad memories about her parents though. she'd remember how they'd always feed her obsession of reading and books in general, getting her new ones and buying the next one in a series she enjoyed for her birthday. her mom would rearrange her plushies since she never made her bed, making sure they always returned to their original position. her dad used to take her outside, bundled up in layers and a thick scarf to sit on their porch and watch the snow fall or the occasional shooting stars. her mom would always let her hold onto her hand, even when she was driving, and had to lean her arm back to let loser!reader wrap little fingers around her mom's pointer. all those memories were all a little bittersweet, making her chest hurt but her lips wobble into a little smile.

ೀ ; constantly has the need to pick at something. whether it's the skin on her lips or her cuticles. she was a nail biter as a kid, and her mom used to paint clear nail polish on to try and stop her biting. it never worked, and she enjoyed the taste of the polish kinda. but as she grew up, the taste and feel of her nails felt icky in her mouth and she resorted to skin. the cuticles on her thumbs are always, always in bad shape. maybe they're halfway healed, but they're at least a little ripped up everyday. her lips are in the same boat, red and abused. they sting a little whenever she eats or runs her tongue over them, but it only happens in the worst scenarios, usually when her lip started bleeding.

ೀ ; doodles in class. always with pen, never with pencil. her go to is little sleepy cats. sometimes she catches herself sketching chris' face, with a hat on his head and curls peeking out from under the brim. but always, before she finished his face, it gets scratched out.

ೀ ; is so picky. dislikes a lot of food she enjoyed as a child, and some things are just a sensory nightmare for her. she despises things like pickles and olives, and she's never enjoyed sushi or much seafood either.

ೀ ; rocks eyebags no matter how much sleep she's gotten for the day. there will always be eyebags under her eyes, maybe some days they're more noticeable than others—but you won't ever see them really disappear or anything.

ೀ ; loves walks. she'll take a stroll in the woods with a pair of headphones on, sometimes the crunch of leaves filters in through the loud music, and she finds comfort in the sound. she enjoys her own time, absolutely adores the quiet. unlike fratboy!chris, who prefers the atmosphere of parties. but, then again, loser!reader wont always go out. she does prefer staying inside, but when she has the energy and motivation she'll go out for a twenty or so minute walk.

ೀ ; was obsessed with wars as a child. not even in a weird way, she found everything just so fascinating. 'why did so and so do this?' 'what caused this war?' 'could it have been prevented?' fixated on the cold war for a little while, that being one of the only things she wanted to talk to people about before her parents told her to 'quit it' because it was 'creepy and weird'.

ೀ ; has gotten bullied for many of her interests before.

ೀ ; who always has a messy desk. everything else could be somewhat clean, but her desk and drawers are always messy and she kind of hates it sometimes. will try to clean them, fail, and tell herself she'll do it 'later'.

ೀ ; always pretends to not care when fratboy!chris is mean to her or something. she's always been told to stop crying or has been turned away whenever she seeks out affection and comfort—chris doing the same. so she just nods her head and laughs along with him or the group, hating the way her throat would tighten up and she'd grow all tense.

ೀ ; is horrible at keeping conversations flowing. it's one of the reasons its so hard for her to keep friends as well, she just doesn't click with people like she did with that one special person. it's not like she cant talk to people, but when the conversation starts dying its almost impossible for her to revive it.

ೀ ; gets burnt out easily. it's not like she isn't smart, because she really is. her grades reflect it for the first month or two of the semester, then they slowly and gradually drop down to D's and sometimes the occasional F before she's scrambling to finish all her work to try and bring the grades back up.

ೀ ; wishes she could get her emotions under control more easily. she has major mood swings and her emotions will flip around a lot depending on who's she with and what's happened during the day. she'll snap at people without having the desire to, rushing to apologize as that familiar seed of guilt plants itself in her chest even after the person reassures her that it's truly okay.

ೀ ; loves jewelry, but hates the amount of time it takes to remove everything once she's finished with her classes or back in her dorm for the night. she's practically itching to get the necklace off around her neck that feels like it's choking her in a way, to rid herself of the rings that suddenly feel like they're suffocating her fingers. her bracelets suddenly feel too tight around her wrists and she'll shed them off, only to put them back on the next day with maybe a little variety / some differences.

ೀ ; unfortunately loves (or loved) almost everyone and everything she's befriended at least once.

ೀ ; is so unsure of why fratboy!chris hangs out with her. it baffles her everyday, because she was her, and chris was chris. of course she won't complain, but it always manages to strike confusion in her.

ೀ ; asks silly questions randomly when around people she's comfortable with. 'do you ever wonder ... ?' 'what color do i remind you of?' 'imagine i turned into your least favorite thing ever and you had to be my friend for years to turn me back, would you do it yes or no?'

ೀ ; assigns people she cares about colors, seasons, candy flavors, with very detailed explanations too. 'not everyone likes sour candy, but people usually just need to give it a try and it ends up being a lot if people's favorite in the end.'

ೀ ; sometimes wonders why her generosity never gets repayed. but then she feels guilty and selfish for even thinking like that, suddenly getting all nervous since she hates being mean. she's almost immediately lighting a smoke or trying to distract herself.

ೀ ; pretends to not notice the glances and glares she gets whenever shes with fratboy!chris. if she stays blissfully unaware of it, it's like it never even happened and she can pretend that group of girls isnt about to try and swoop in to get chris in their bed.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes @starclinexo @slvtf0rchr1s @itsmaddielouis

©eph3merall 2024

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Dancing in the Dark

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 4)

—

Time written- 5:33 a.m

Titans! Jason Todd/fem!reader fluff/smut

(Tags: Kissing, sort of fingering/dry humping🔞✌️)

—

Jason had woken up with a dead phone around ten in the morning: a small price to pay for talking with his most favorite girl.

A childish giddiness riddled his mind as he put his phone to charge, anxious to call you or see your name pop up with your usual morning text.

However, to his surprise, he was met with a blank screen. No call, no text. For a solid five minutes, he stared up with exhausted eyes at his call history, seeing your name above how long the call lasted.

Three hours, thirty-three minutes, and thirty-five seconds.

A dreadful sinking began in his stomach, a tortuously hot guilt deep in his core. Did he go too far? Did he push you away? This was too soon - No.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, but he pushed it. He just had to push it. Now you’re never gonna talk to him again, are you?

He carried this guilt throughout the dreadfully slow hours of the day. A heavy stir of anxiousness weighed down on his shoulders the longer he went without a call or text from you. He wanted to reach out so damn bad, wanting to call to see if you were okay, then apologize about a hundred thousand times.

He loved talking with you, feeling it as an escape from his troubles of being himself; an outcast in his own supposed home.

He spent a good hour of avoiding his thoughts and emotions by training by himself, beating against his targets and training mannequins until his protected knuckles nearly bruised.

He wasn’t supposed to like you, but you reached out first, saving him an endless amount of self hatred and doubt on his behalf, fueling it up with precarious amounts of happiness.

Now he feels like he made things a whole lot worse by ruining this one special, quite unique friendship he had, pushing past boundaries that weren’t meant to be crossed.

Unless, that’s what you wanted to happen, too.

He had to admit, he was a hypocrite for accusing you of getting off on him last night. He couldn’t help that he found the computer geek attractive when you both first met. Regardless of your indifference towards each other at the time.

He’s spent plenty of late nights and long showers on days he was feeling untroubled enough to think of you, even more so than he was willing to ever admit after getting closer to you.

Time seemed to make his worries grow even worse, especially after a hot shower from his rigorous session. He peeks over at his phone, shoulders nearly coming to a slump at his lack of notifications from you.

A knock comes at his door, breaking the tense chain. Soft taps from none other than your delicate hands.

You stood on the other side after he opens it, looking ever so lovely with an embarrassed glow on your cheeks.

All tension seemed to slip off his shoulders upon seeing you, making a smile grow on Jason’s face. All his worries about your well being, fear of avoidance, and being ghosted dissipated like an ice cube dropped into hot water.

“Hey mama,” he softly greets, attempting to keep his composure.

“Hey.” Your soft tone riddled with enough nervousness and hesitation makes Jason’s guilt slowly return, bubbling dangerously at the bottom of his stomach.

“You busy?” You ask, making him quickly shake his head before further opening his door, silently inviting you into his semi-tidy room.

A pregnant silence surrounded the both of you as you remained standing where you were, glancing around as if to intentionally avoid looking him in the eye.

Jason exhales after a long moment, knowing he needed to break this ice the longer he stared at you. He started it, he had to own up to it.

“Hey, about last night—“

“Yeah,” you softly say to yourself. “Last night.”

“Right,” he nods, swallowing slowly as he maintains his distance, brushing his sweaty hands over his pockets. “Look … I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to go that far. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

You stare up at him with doe eyes, a faint aura of surprise coursing through your mind. Jason immediately owned up to his mistake, even if it didn’t exactly feel like one, though it was to be debated. He was taking ownership of it, something you’ve heard the others complain that he didn’t do.

Again, yet another thing the Titans got wrong about Jason Todd.

“I have a question, actually.” You gather the strength to speak up, to Jason’s surprise. Weren’t you going to… walk out on him? Yell at him? He’d stand still so you could hit him with something solid.

Maybe you were, after you understood more of the situation first.

“Sure, what?”

“So, what… what exactly brought it on?”

A short smile involuntarily creeps up on Jason’s face, followed by a measly shrug. He licks his lips before glancing towards the ground, pondering that very thought for a good moment or two.

“I don’t know what to say about it.” Jason goes on to say, smiling a little more towards the ground. “You’re funny, an’ smart. Hella hot, too.”

He goes quiet again, shrugging once more before raising his head. “You’ve put up with me. More than anyone else here bothers to do. So… yeah.”

It just happened. He wanted to finish his sentence by saying, but you understood. Your cheeks blooming from the sentimental compliments.

“So, those roses,” you nervously proceed. “Those weren’t just ‘thank you roses’, were they?”

Jason amusingly scoffs when you mention the flowers, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No. No, they weren’t.”

Again, Jason still wonders if he went too fast. Part of him wanted to take it all back, break the clock to turn back the arms. It was impossible now, and judging from the looks of you here, especially with your choice of meeting him in his room, he had somewhat good reason to believe that you were somewhat okay with it.

“We can still be friends,” Jason suggests, taking a casual step closer. “Maybe.. a lot closer than the usual stereotype.”

“Closer?” You question, watching him do so.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I don’t see a problem with it. As long as you don’t either.”

It would be very, very foolish of you to believe you could avoid Jason by any means after what happened between you both.

Your cheeks flushed from the night before; all the words he said, the things you’ve done in his awareness over the phone. It was incredible on a hardcore crushing girl’s stand point, but absolutely horrible on your friendship record.

You were both friends, supposed to be friends. The reminder of your bond made your hands tremble, but the recollection of what occurred made your core flush with warmth.

Jason slightly clears his throat before lightly scratching the side of his temple, taking his chance to fill the silence with some desperately required humor. “Y’know, I assumed you’d have had me on my ass right about now.”

“I mean, I totally would’ve,” you sarcastically boast, crossing your arms. “Don’t get me wrong. I just wanted to put all these pieces together first, see if what had happened… if it meant something.”

“It won’t mean anything if you don’t see it like that.” He pitches, his gaze unable to tear away from your rosy cheeks.

God, you’re so pretty. So cute, and quite brave to put yourself in this position.

“Did it mean something to you, mama?” Jason questions before cautiously stepping past your personal bubble, slimming the distance between you both. “You can tell me, I won’t get mad.”

Apprehension steals your nerves, making your throat run dry. You couldn’t help but crave the Jason you talked to over the phone, murmuring such filthy words into your ear through a screen. Things you’ve never considered him saying before, wanting him just as much as you wanted your friend.

Again, another border presented itself to you. This time, with a door behind held open in the center, beckoning you to walk through it.

You’re cute when you’re figuring out what to say. Jason’s smile subtly grew, his eyes scanning every adorable feature of your face.

“It meant a lot,” you finally admit, making him nod slowly after some thought.

“Good,” Jason murmurs, his nose merely inches away from yours, eyes repeatedly flickering down towards your lips with a slow, attractive desire.

His hands ever so carefully caress your sides, giving enough room and chance to slap them away if you needed to. You didn’t want to.

“That’s good, babe.”

His lips slowly settle along yours before you know it, melding against your own with a patient pause, silently pleading for you to accept. You gladly did so, remembering your use of hands as you guide them up to cradle his shoulders.

- -

You both still continued on with this friendship, even if that label was practically meaningless now, quickly washing away with water.

The late night calls and endlessly amusing texts continued, now with the addition of some particularly interesting additions. Full on flirts, pet names, nothing past what you weren’t comfortable with.

Jason kissed you plenty of more times since then, all of which were in precariously different scenarios, randomly falling along the scale of surprise.

During your chances of downtime in private during television commercials, Jason built a habit of catching you off guard via tickling your vulnerable spots, playing into your laughing spell before leaning close, sealing your giggles with a short kiss.

You had to admit to yourself, you often indulged in playing into his interests just for the sole fact of adoring his attention. Which resulted in his boldness shining through in ways you weren’t expecting.

Or, when he simply felt like it.

Most of the time, he just felt like it.

Riskier moments involved him noticing you ‘absentmindedly’ applying lip oil after a few occasional sips of water during your work on the Batcomputer.

You’d catch his gaze from the corner of your eye before giving him an innocent smile, lips glistening with a rosy tint before focusing back towards the screen.

During your work, he’d break your concentration by squeezing along your shoulders. Warm lips graze along your ear, encouraging you to take a break and go on a walk with him, to clear both your heads.

“Jason - Oh my god.” A breathless giggle leaves your lips as your back meets a chilly surface, combating his warm upper torso pressed against your front. A quiet, gloomy, secluded corner in the tower, just shy out of any camera range.

What can he say? He liked the risk, the excitement of sneaking off to steal a few kisses from his favorite girl. Regardless of what you were supposed to be doing.

“Jay, I mean it,” you exhale, your fingers grasping along the back of his hoodie while his lips tease along your soft neck, inhaling your sweet perfume.

“Dick needs me to—“

“Fuck Dick,” he mutters out with venom in his tone, the tightening clutch of his hands on your hips giving a hard squeeze. “Don’t care ‘bout what he wants. You’re mine right now.”

You’ve never seen him so giddy with attraction before. His smiles growing broader, a pleasant flush of color on the apples of his high cheeks. All he had on his mind was you, his pleasant little distraction from his dreadful hours of therapy every week.

Sometimes, that wouldn’t always be the case.

- -

“Babe.” His quivering exhale over the phone worried you to the very bone one night as you tidied up your apartment, getting a semi-unexpected call from Jason in the midst of a late storm.

He wouldn’t say what was going on, too distressed to comprehend anything over the phone, hiding his painfully obvious sobs on his end. Your aching heart couldn’t handle it, encouraging him to come to your apartment, insisting on staying up to meet him at the front door.

After twenty-five minutes, Jason could barely get a hold on hitting his third knock on the door before it pulled out of reach, your warm arms instantly enveloping his rain soaked body at your doorstep.

He clung to you instantly, sniffling nose breathing in the scent of clean, cozy vanilla and fresh laundry. The scents he associated with comfort, with safety.

“I just needed to get away from it all,” his muffled whimper catches along your shoulder, his voice broken and defeated in a way you rarely hear him.

It takes a while for Jason to calm down, but for him, you’d give him all the time he needed. The two of you sit on the ground, backs settled against the couch with mugs of hot drinks in hand, a comfortable silence bathing both your minds as the rain relentlessly batters along your windows.

Bruce, Dick, Hank, the rest of the Titans. His past even, coming back to haunt him in the worst ways. The reasons varied, but he didn’t voice them. You didn’t need him to voice them, you only needed to understand.

His phone rings, slicing through his settling anxieties until he peeked at the caller ID. He hands you his phone, his gaze pleading with you to answer Gar’s concerned phone call, in which you gladly did so. You soothe both your friend’s worries, telling him that Jason was alright, which was the biggest concern on Gar’s mind.

“I don’t feel comfortable going back,” Jason admits after you hang up, his eyes too focused on the liquid in his coffee cup. “Not now. Not for a while, I think.”

You express your agreement by settling your hand along the back of his palm, giving a gentle squeeze.

“That’s okay,” you reply, watching his gaze linger over towards your hand. “It’s gonna be okay, Jason. You don’t have to go back, not right now.”

He stares on quietly, his head nodding in thanks while pondering over various ideas. Your head turns over your shoulder to peer at the couch. No, not the couch. Not for him.

“Y’know, My bed has two pillows.” You proceed to say, attempting to wind up some awful humor to get the tiniest response of amusement out of him.

Jason glanced at you with a puzzled expression, nearly making you stumble on your words.

“Two.” He repeats, still visibly riddled with confusion.

“Well, more like five,” you shrug after quickly sipping some of your tea, trying to save yourself from further embarrassment. “But one of them just might have your name on it.”

His lips slightly curls into a tired smile, accepting your offer within that very moment.

- -

It made the most logical sense to assume that after a hot shower, Jason didn’t intend to go straight to sleep with you in your bed.

He found you in mid process pulling back the blankets and adjusting pillows, bent over along hands and knees over your bed.

You failed to register Jason’s presence behind you after you slip off, turning around with a sudden gasp from the scare.

He smirks, quietly watching your eyes immediately gaze along his shirtless figure, down to where he had slid on some sweatpants.

There it was; those tiny embers of arousal in your eyes that formed when you returned his gaze. A flame whirring to life in your innocent little head, tainted with memories of words he’s told you in confidence, leaving you aching for more.

His towel dried hair clung to beads of water like gemstones, residual droplets rippling down his toned arms and chest.

The front of your sleep shirt grew damp with water when Jason clutches you close by your hips, his lips meeting yours without a second longer of wait.

The height difference, coupled with his physique looming over when he kissed you had you leaning back, your hands slowly bracing against the mattress before you suffer a clumsy fall.

Jason’s forearms braced along the spaces beside your head at first, shadowing over your body like a broad, protective layer once you laid down. A hand grasps along your hip, tips of his fingers lightly trailing along the seam of your shorts before grasping your thigh, raising it up along his side.

“Don’t worry,” he rasps along your ear, picking up on the nervous shudder in your breathing. “I’ll be easy. Just been dyin’ to taste you.”

Your hand quickly grasps hold of his, painfully tense fingers wanting to pry them away from your hip. He paused, his head looming over yours with a noticeably concerned expression.

Feeling guilty, you prepare to say it’s accidental, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Jason, I—“ You open your mouth to testify, but he gently shushes you.

“No - shit. It’s my bad,” he exhales. “You don’t feel ready. That’s okay, we don’t gotta do anything.”

Damn him for tainting your mind with such erotic promises all before. Your arousal proceeded to get the better of you, despite his consideration on your behalf.

“Is their anything we can do?” Your pleading eyes made him groan a curse out from under his breath. Damn him for his waning control.

He kisses you again, trying really hard to hide his growing smile. Right, you’re his little eager girl, mentally ruined by his never subtle advances.

“We can try something, if you up to it.” He proposes, gazing down on you with a warm, hungry glimmer in his eyes.

“Like what?”

“Something that doesn’t require taking clothes off, but you gotta trust me.”

Chaste kisses lead towards a passionately drawn out make out, bodies shifting in between the blankets. An arm settles around your torso, slow fingers cupping and squeezing your breasts through your shirt.

Your breathing settles from soothing words whispered against your ear, but nothing could settle your raging heart from the fingers that slipped underneath your shorts, teasing along your damp underwear before easing them aside.

Warm slick quickly coats his fingers, a pleased little hum leaving Jason’s throat shortly after.

“Almost feel a little sorry for you. Havin’ to use a toy to get yourself off, babe.” He mumbled between your little whimpers.

His middle finger lightly brushes over your swollen clit, making you wince. Smirking, he repeats the action a few more times, watching your hips slightly tense and jolt.

It was nothing like when you touched yourself, barely managing to stroke along your own clit for a few seconds before the sensitivity grew too much. Jason was relentless, leaving you completely at his mercy to touch you how he pleased.

His fingers pry your smooth, velvety lips open before dipping a finger inside, groaning lustfully against your neck as your virgin walls eagerly squeeze around his digit.

All you could do as his victim was whimper and take it, too embarrassed to beg for more, too shy to reach behind and take him in hand, urging him to fill you.

Jason's restraint on his own vocals grows thinner by the minute, his ragged groans vibrating along your skin as he listens to your eager little virgin hole cry out for something more, begging to be fucked and stretched to the limit. An unabashed excitement at seeing you fall apart from his doing alone was the perfect distraction, muddling his frustrations into dying whispers.

Seeing you as you are, sprawled along Jason's spread legs, hitching pitiful whimpers as he fucks a second finger into your sopping cunt had him seething with arousal. His cock painfully begging to be free from his sweats.

“I bet your tiny hands can’t reach like mine can, but I know my cock will,” he mumbled before kissing you. His thumb draws relentless circles on your little nub while fantasizing about what he’d do to your pussy.

You writhe in his lap, moaning freely against his lips as his fingers buck further into you. Your inconsistent grinding of your ass forced some much needed friction on his cock, angrily throbbing in his sweats.

“Y’think this little pussy is ready to take me yet?” he coos at you, as though his fingers aren’t digging into your cunt and rubbing along your heated walls, crooking them just right as his palm relentlessly stimulates your nub.

“D-Don’t say that,” you pitifully whine, your nails digging into the skin of his forearm.

“Shhh, just prepping you, babe. That’s all we’re doin’ tonight.”

Your hips twitching, your head pressing back against his shoulder.

Jason only chuckled at those pretty, teary lashes flutter when he thrusts his fingers faster, grunting along with your choked moan when your hips buck once more.

“Jason, fuck- oh my God. Please don’t stop.”

He felt himself aching during his slurred words, but he set himself aside. Right now, his main priority was his sweet little Princess getting exactly what she deserves.

“I’m not stoppin’, mama. Y’can count on that.”