#but I can't tell if these have been smoothed out to hide some of her lines and make her legs look even longer

[circular-time]

oh no

Jodie Whittaker bts for Toxic Town [more pics here]

[the-boundless-sea]

a list of stark family moments and details i treasure 🫶

jon telling gilly she has a pretty name when they meet because sansa told him once that he should always tell a lady they have a pretty name upon being introduced (jon iii, acok)

robb sitting up with bran after he goes to bed, trying to cheer his little brother up after his fall by telling him how their mother will be home soon and after they'll do a surprise visit to jon in castle black

and bran realizing robb has started crying as he says this, and so taking on the role of comforter and reaching out to hold his big brother's hand as they sit in the dark (bran iv, agot)

robb being unable to resist correcting catelyn for leaving jon out when she says there were 'five wolves for five stark children' despite trying not to argue with her (catelyn ii, asos)

this acting as an echo of when they found the wolves and it initially appeared there were only five, and jon, arguing they should keep the pups to make bran happy, told ned it was a sign that there were five direwolves for five stark kids. even at 7-years-old, bran understands jon is leaving himself out of the count to make it match and loves his brother "with all his heart at that moment." (bran i, agot)

"he was no true stark, had never been one... but he could die like one. let them say that eddard stark fathered four sons, not three." - jon, as he attempts to leave the night's watch to join robb (jon ix, agot)

"mother. you forget my father had four sons. jon's more a stark than some lordlings from the vale who've never set eyes on winterfell." robb, as he legitimizes jon as a stark, names him his heir, and goes to release him from the night's watch (catelyn v, asos)

jon being so overjoyed when bran wakes up from his coma that he cries, hugs tyrion and runs around castle black telling random guards his brother is going to live (jon iii, agot)

arya and bran teaming up to ambush sansa with a dozen snowballs each and sansa retaliating by chasing arya throughout the castle until she tripped. arya stopping to make sure she wasn't hurt and throwing another snowball at her face when she isn't. sansa pulling arya to to the ground and covering her in snow while they both laugh the whole time.

sansa making a snow model of winterfell after reliving this memory because there's no point in snowballs without someone to throw them at. (sansa vii, asos)

everything about the story of jon and robb's ghost prank in the crypts. robb making sure they have one (1) candle about to flicker out. jon being covered in flour makes him a ghost. bran holding arya's hand and hiding behind robb. sansa just fucking taking off. arya's strategy being to punch a ghost into submission. jon and robb laughing so hard bran and arya can't even stay mad and start laughing too. the fact the entire reason it comes up is it's a memory that makes arya smile and feel brave. (arya iv, agot)

rickon being too young to understand why jon isn't sitting with them like he normally does when the king is visiting and holding up the procession when he sees jon sitting somewhere else. (jon i, agot) he keeps asking why jon isn't sitting with them throughout the feast. (bran iii, acok)

jon telling catelyn he doesn't care if she calls the guards on him, she can't stop him saying goodbye to bran.

robb being able to tell something is off with jon after this takes place, and gently asking if his mother said something and jon lying in response to smooth the situation out. (jon ii, agot)

bran wondering if direwolves miss their brothers and sisters too. (bran i, acok)

jon and robb climbing the towers at winterfell to practice shouting at one another after ned told them it's doesn't matter how brilliant a man is if his men can't hear his commands during a battle. (jon vii, asos)

arya thinking if she could see sansa again she'd kiss her and beg her pardons like a proper lady to make her happy. (arya vii, acok)

sansa, believing her younger brothers to be dead, thinks of how she'll name her sons eddard, bran, and rickon. she pictures them all looking like her "late" brothers and sometimes dreams they'll have a girl who looks like arya too. (sansa ii, asos)

when jon imagines leaving the night's watch, he thinks wistfully of having a son named robb. he also fantasizes gilly's son and mance's son would grow up as pseudo-twin brothers like him and robb (jon xii, asos)

the boys would all share a bed to stay warm whenever it got cold. i love to picture this after they got the direwolves so the humans and wolves are all in one big puppy pile. (jon vi, acok) jon also says he would lay up at night while his brothers slept next to him and make his plans to join the night's watch (jon i, agot), so in this mental picture i have all the other boys are dead asleep, while jon super seriously explains his plans to ghost at 3am.

whenever she's on the verge of reuniting with other family members, arya worries they won't want her anymore because of what she's had to do to survive. but when she thinks of reuniting with jon, she thinks "jon will want me. even if no one else does." (arya xii, asos)

bran, sansa, and arya all saying they have to be as brave or as strong as robb when they're hyping themselves up. (bran iv, asos; sansa iv, asos; arya ii, agot) jon dreaming of being "as good and true a son as robb." (jon x, asos) he's literally the golden standard for all his siblings.

robb's ghost showing up in both jon and arya's dreams, with neither one recognizing him (jon viii, asos; cat of the canals, affc)

bran being jealous of jon for thinking of the name ghost first for his direwolf because it sounds so cool while being so disdainful of rickon deciding to call his shaggydog. (bran ii, agot)

jon continuing to hope bran and rickon's consciousnesses live on in their direwolves when he believes them dead. (jon i, adwd; jon viii, asos)

bran wanting to be a wolf so he could find arya and sansa and protect robb in battle so they could all return to winterfell. (bran i, acok)

jon remembering how bran would always follow him and robb everywhere and try join in on whatever they were doing. (jon iii, agot)

rickon following robb everywhere and physically clinging to robb after their other siblings and parents are gone. robb arguing with catelyn over how scared and abandoned rickon feels with her gone. (catelyn iii, agot)

after bran wakes, rickon cries if robb's away more than half a day and asks bran when robb is coming back (bran iv, agot). when robb goes south, rickon melts down so much that he won't eat - he just screams and cries all day and attacks adults who try to comfort him. (bran vi, agot)

jon imagining both his sisters' reactions to seeing the beautiful morning frost at craster's. he pictures sansa crying from how magical it looks and arya running to touch everything he can. (jon iii, acok)

robb and jon's bickering devolving into a race where robb is laughing and hooting and jon is super serious and intent on winning, in a way that implies this is the norm for them. (bran i, agot)

not just summer, but shaggy and grey wind also howl in mourning when bran's in his coma. robb opens the window in bran's room so bran can "hear them sing." (catelyn iii, agot)

when bran hears the wolves howling again he worries it means somethings happened to one of his siblings. (bran i, acok)

jon and arya are so in tune they'd regularly speak in unison. (jon ii, agot; arya i, asos; arya i, acok; jon iii, agot)

jon and robb building a "great mountain" of snow to dump on whoever walks under the gate, even getting mance fucking rayder to be their accomplice, and then getting chased around the yard by their poor victim fat tom until their faces are "red as autumn apples." (jon i, asos)

rickon immediately asking if robb's coming home upon seeing a letter from him and upon being told no tells maester luwin to write robb back and tell him to come home and bring grey wolf and their parents back too. (bran v, acok)

the fact rickon specifically mentions he should bring grey wind back too, because we saw him playing with grey wind, summer, and shaggydog when his siblings were all gone or busy. they were basically his only friends for a time. (bran iv, agot)

when tyrion leaves to head back to winterfell, jon tells him that rickon will ask when he's coming back and to try explain it to him, and also adds to tell him he can have all his stuff while he's gone, which is just such cute little sibling thing, but also shows how even then jon thinks of the night's watch as being away; winterfell is still his home that he'll come back to one day.

he also tells tyrion to tell robb that he can melt down his sword and take up needlework because jon's going to command the night's watch and keep him safe. and of course, his pleas for tyrion to find a way to help bran are what lead tyrion to give bran his new saddle. (jon iii, agot)

despite his mistrust of tyrion and the lannisters, robb offers to let tyrion stay at winterfell after he sees how much his gift means to bran. (bran iv, agot)

robb no longer believing the direwolves were sent by the old gods after bran and rickon were believed dead, because what was the point of a gift from the gods if it didn't keep his brothers safe? (catelyn ii, asos)

bran going to the godswood to pray that robb doesn't have to leave and then adding if he does to have to leave to make it so he comes home with their sisters and parents and that rickon will understand what's happening. (bran vi, agot)

when jon and sansa remember robb after his death they both picture him with snowflakes melting in his hair, the way he was when they left winterfell. (jon xiii, adwd; sansa viii, asos)

when seeing sam off, the last thing jon says is for sam to put his hood up because the snow's melting in his hair, and sam notes the strange smile on his face when he says it. (samwell i, affc)

bran arguing lord hornwood's son out of wedlock should be named his heir, thinking of jon. (bran ii, acok)

robb being so upset when catelyn compares jon to theon that grey wind hops onto the crypt and bares his teeth at her. (catelyn v, asos)

jon wondering if ever really had any right to call arya his sister, saying he was as out of place as theon at winterfell. (jon iii, asos)

just... the contrast of jon thinking about sansa, and how since she became old enough to understand what a bastard is she's only ever referred to him as her "half-brother", but he misses her anyways... and sansa missing jon while living as alayne, calling him the only brother that remains to her and thinking "i'm a bastard too now, just like him." (jon iii, agot; alayne ii, affc)

robb also calling jon the only brother who remains to him. arya calling jon the only brother she has left. (catelyn v, asos; arya xii, asos)

rickon crying and refusing to leave bran until he's physically forced off. (bran vii, acok)

every word of this sentence shatters me: "every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; snow and stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see." (jon xii, asos)

ok now the angsty part

like! jon is having this flashback because he feels guilty and conflicted over stannis's offer to legitimize him and name him heir to winterfell, never knowing that's exactly what robb wanted.

(jon xii, asos)

(catelyn v, asos)

he keeps remembering robb calling him a bastard as a mental chastisement for daring to put himself on their level, but one of robb's very last acts on earth was to name him jon stark!! bran wanted lord hornwood's illegitimate son to be allowed to succeed him because of jon!! jon doesn't think he counts as arya's brother. but he's the one she misses the most, the only one whose unconditional love she never doubts!! jon!!!

(jon xi, asos)

and yet! despite all the shame and guilt, the thing that ultimately stops him from accepting stannis's offer is his belief that the old gods sent the stark siblings their direwolves, and he can't betray his family's gods! that's what makes his decision, above all else!

(jon xii, asos)

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 1

[prompt: against a wall window]

male reader x huh yunjin

5k words

You're not entirely sure where the jacket to your suit has gone.

You know you should know; it’s a rental and you need to return it in a week. But Yunjin told you to take it off, and since then, things have been... a little hazy.

More concerning - or it would be, had Yunjin not also lost some part of her attire - is what her thumbs are hooked into. Like she's peeling out the silhouette to her skin-tight, backless dress - the way she can't keep from leaning against the elevator wall. Your lips have the taste of her red lipstick all over, and her body melts with every little flick of the tip of her tongue against yours, puddles that much further when she feels your fingers curling into the folds of that skin-tight black material.

The motion to push the fabric up and over the rise of her hips is a purposeful kind of thing.

For the past hour, her skirt kept brushing over the fabric of your pants while you went from shaking hands to kissing hands to her placing yours on the hem of her dress, in the quiet space of a balcony the hotel staff had clearly marked as off-limits. A kiss behind the shell of her ear, a suggestion, a shiver.

Now, things are happening in a sort of reverse: from slow and curious, to needing more and wanting less, and suddenly, neither of you want to wait - until her thighs are spread wide apart, with your free hand slid over her smooth thigh, fingers skirting the edges of her lace, cupped over her heat - right, there. The throbbing.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me," is what she's asking.

"Something awful," you reply, but there's only a gasp out of her throat to prove your point. No words.

Just the look: desire clouding over the expression. The not-so-subtle display of want, need. Tongue pressing to lips and tugging along the corner. A moan, two, quieted behind the knuckle she can't quite help putting in her mouth.

You consider shoving her panties down the curve of her thighs and spinning her around - leaving her arms to brace the railing and keeping the dress around her waist while you fuck. Quick, rough.

The mental image is too nice to let it go.

You consider how much she might genuinely prefer to that to whatever she'd had in mind when she suggested you really ought see the view of the city from her room - oh, the skyline, it's gorgeous, she offered, lips tugged into a perfectly practiced little quirk that said: the view of me, on all fours, face down into a mattress as my ass swallows down your cock - I can't wait to have you.

You can feel the thought concrete itself to the base of your skull when you roll the flat of your finger over her clit and start sliding up and down between the lips of her pussy - finding her a little wet already, dripping onto the fabric in the most obvious way. When the elevator stops a few floors shy, you try to play it off by squeezing at her rib cage and tugging the fabric back in place, hiding the tell-tale lines between the fabric, just as Yunjin starts that gentle laugh from the very base of her spine. A real beautiful timbre in its sound.

But things get more muddled, admittedly, when the doors ding and the group on the other side piles through.

There's an exchange of glances, where they're asking if this is allowed, is there enough room, can they make room. One of them, in a dizzyingly plunging, strapless blue number that has you pressing your palm into the small of Yunjin's back just a little more than you have been up to that point, considers, carefully.

"Yunjin," she says, fingers brushing through the fringe of a smart-chic bob, prim cut of jet-black hair.

Yunjin shifts her weight onto the other heel. "Chaewon."

"By the looks of it," she says, and the way she looks you over has all the judgmental verve of an older sister, a real cold stare. "You've got a I'll-be-staying-in-tonight kind of vibe."

A deeper laugh now, rolling out across the backs of her teeth. "If it's all the same to you," is what you hear from her, "it'll be an early night for me."

“Don’t make it a habit,” she tells Yunjin.

“We’re just going to go enjoy the view.”

“Yeah.” Chaewon gives you one final, disapproving expression. “I bet he will.”

The elevator isn't totally silent, not for the subtle hum and whir of machinery. But everything is a lot closer now. Especially your thoughts, the way Yunjin pulls herself closer against you by a hand on the back of your dress shirt - her fingernails mapping the ridge of your spine, finding your hip bone, thumb curving back and forth against the curve of it.

The four girls at the corner are just making chatter in their corner of the lift. They've got a reservation - in name, anyway. If things were as simple as getting from the hotel to the elevator and beyond, no need for the next forty floors to pass at a snail's pace.

In fact, the four have this sort of tense, concentrated way to them that suggests otherwise - like maybe they came all this way and made that sort of promise to have the whole night end the way some things ought: alone.

"Don't stop on account of us," one of them says after a while.

Which is enough to set off this glare into the furl of Yunjin’s brows. Not her friend's intention. But they laugh it off.

When the doors scuttle open, finally, the two of you stumble out, feet not catching up to the rest of you before Yunjin has her fingers around your wrist and drags you out. Her heels - red-bottomed and not entirely flat but definitely a lot less heel-ey than others (she’s tall, she says, it makes her self-conscious), are clacking quick across marble tile until she arrives at the door of her room, pulls her keycard out of her clutch and leans shoulder-first into the door after the click and whir of entry.

She takes a step backward.

The door locks at your back when it's kicked into its frame.

The first thing you notice is her dress: pooled on the floor around the arches of her heels, cast off like a cloak or some overcoat - to be tossed aside once the sun goes down.

"Make a habit out of this, huh?" you ask in an effort to keep yourself busy - gawking's never been a good look on anyone, even with your natural gifts, the glint in your smile, all your charm - but the curves of her body are stunning, curves that start where her thighs begin, wrap around her hips, cut in at her waist, bloom from the perfectly-small-breasts that now are showing their dusky pink nipples, firm and on full display.

All of Yunjin, like this, beneath pale moonlight pouring diffuse through the fish-bowl-glass of her hotel room, is nothing short of an invitation.

A good look, is what you're about to say if you don't come up with anything else.

"You do this kind of thing often?"

"What's that," Yunjin says over the sharp line of a grin.

"What I mean to say is: I hadn't pegged you for the," and you gesture, rather elegantly, with the flop of your wrist, "lure-some-poor-sap-away-from-a-party-and-take-advantage kind of type," before managing something like a genuine laugh. "Not to knock that lifestyle or anything."

"There's not a thing in the world you know about me," is what she offers. Which is, unsurprisingly, totally true, and slightly unfair.

Yunjin is walking toward you while you consider it.

Drifting when she comes around. It's that close. You can smell the warmth of her skin, a whiff of that vanilla, an infuriating softness - the room is dark, but the moon is bright and the city is glowing, reflecting its light and the various hues from neon signs below, outside, until Yunjin stops, standing right in front of you, just, waiting.

Then, the steady rise of an eyebrow that, for a second, feels like a challenge.

“So," you kiss into her lips, and that's the first. "Let me know you."

The second is when her hands slip up and over the back of your neck and you can't keep from reaching for her sides, pulling her closer. Her hips and ass and those fucking gorgeous, full, legs that can't decide which direction to take - until she's pressed, warm, soft, and perfect against your body, and she's sighing this sigh, heavy, a moan.

The third time, she's licking into your mouth, tongue rolling in and around the taste of your own.

"Too many clothes," she murmurs, and you can feel the pull at your half-undone bowtie, the collar to your dress shirt. She's working the buttons off their slots with deft, clever fingers.

"That's what happens when I'm trying to look sharp."

"Sharp, and hot."

"Is it working?"

Her eyes are as dark as the hair framing the smile that plays at the edge of her mouth. "I'm taking your clothes off, aren't I?"

"Mm," you reply, a smirk of your own. Pressed right into her jaw, her neck, the column of her throat, where she tastes sweet and salty. Like the sea and the night. Before you can even ask, with your fingers teasing the elastic of her underwear, I'm guessing you want me to do the same.

Yunjin makes a sound like, mm-hm.

The hotel room is quite standard, which is to say, nice. But, for what it is, it's not too fancy. There's a large, king-size bed with the crispest sheets you've ever felt. A little kitchenette. Some counter space and a fridge. A TV hanging opposite the bed, with an armchair and a love-seat positioned to face the screen.

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Yunjin asks, and her voice is low. Almost a husk, a whisper.

"What did you have in mind?" you say to her, and there's a hand on the nape of your neck, a fist of soft, slender fingers wrapping the length of your cock.

"You're going to fuck me until I'm cumming on your cock. You'll get me on my knees, first, though."

"That's the plan?"

"Unless you have another." Yunjin grins, a smile so full and bright and genuine. You don't know anything beyond her name and the perfectly sculpted curve of her ass. She could be anyone, an actress, a singer, a model. A girl-next-door. A friend of a friend.

She could be yours.

And in a way, when she's on her knees, her mouth hot and tight around the shape of your cock, those fucking lips pressed into the base of it, sliding easy with the spit she leaves on your shaft, that's exactly what you tell her.

"Yunjin," is all you're saying, a sigh, a hiss. You're helping her get your pants off the ends of your feet while your cock is lathered and bathed in her spit, feeling her slender fingers pull up and down your shaft. "That feels so fucking good, baby. Just like that." It's fast, sloppy, she's taking you in and out of her hot mouth like it's the most natural thing in the world. A slurp, a cough, and she's completely unfettered, sucking down and swallowing another breath - not to mention all that about her tongue. A swirl over the head of your cock and you show how much you like it, letting her read the bite into your lip, inventorying every little wince through your brow.

But see - you have your fingers in her hair, holding the strands away from her face. Away from where Yunjin's eyes are breathtaking and glittering, blinking back up under upturned brows, looking up at you from where she's taking you into the hot wet of her mouth, inch-by-inch. And the part of you, this cruel, twisting sensation, would hate for her to think anything of your hands - how they're at the top of her head, cradled behind, and easing her forward, the head of your cock teasing the roof of her mouth.

The back of her mouth.

The back of her throat.

Fuck, her eyes go wide. She's good. She takes it.

And just from the pretty look she keeps on her face, Yunjin loves it. Loves to be pushed, loves to have her hands running along the ridge of your thigh until her fingers are prying the very bottom, the underside, your balls. Like this, with her kneeling down between your legs, the flexing muscle of her upper arms to her palms squeezed tight on either cheek of your ass, where the heat starts to stir deep - to pull. Bring the full length of you to the back of her throat.

The choked sound from deep in her chest should surprise you.

And for the shortest moment, you're holding still and forcing her head, your hands keeping her perfectly put: just there, right there. Exactly like that - where she could look like the perfect mess and feel a twitch right between those lips that keep asking so kindly, go ahead, fuck a load of cum down my throat, baby, use these lips - the soft swell of these lips until you're cumming for me.

Or something else along those lines.

The thought of it crosses your mind: cum spilling from the corner of her mouth as she tries to take everything you have. The flutter in her throat wringing it all down. The mess that all would make. Not that she isn’t already a perfect sight.

You tug on her hair again.

Yunjin's eyes sparkle.

Her eyelashes go a little droopy, hazy. Dark.

And she starts humming across this wistful note of a sigh as her lips start slipping over your shaft - dragging in that slow, agonizing, blissful way over everywhere sensitive and aching. Taking her time, while one hand goes up and strokes what her mouth can't touch, while you pull her head, those perfect strands, just a touch further down, because if she can't quite deep-throat you then Yunjin can give a goddamn masterful impression.

Her cheeks hollow, and the suction - god.

You could cum right in between the pretty little pout of her lips, over the flat of her tongue. Right down her throat.

But in a turn of events neither of you anticipate, you don't do it; you are, much like anyone else, not without limits. Which is probably how you end up lifting Yunjin back up by the underside of her elbows, asking, "that feels a little one-sided, no?"

It's only fair to pull a smirk, kiss, all the best tricks - all for the best parts of her, full, curving, down from her neck, shoulders, her arms, the palms of her hands, every part of her: that perfect shade of peach, pink. From there, everything else falls away. The slow way Yunjin sneaks away with the kind of saunter you'd expect, hips swaying all the way up, sashaying out this inviting side-to-side before you realize it's working -

And you're asking, "Yunjin?" then telling, "I want you up against that window."

The sun's long set - but it'll come up soon enough, over the edges of skyscraper-blocks and shining up out from the base, until everything is bright and gleaming.

"Which window?" she teases.

So you swat at her ass. A not-so-delicate slap. "I don't care so long as I fuck you into it."

"And if someone sees?" she laughs out, still intent on teasing you, and the small edge in her voice is some combination of excitement and worry.

"Then we better give them something worth seeing."

Yunjin's palms land flush to the glass, fingers spread out - wide, wanting, willing - where the blue, yellow glow of city lights shines in over the curves of her profile, the slope of her cheek, the bright pools her irises turn under the warmth. She's the only thing worth seeing, and there's nothing that could possibly stop you from needing, wanting more, right now.

There's no other explanation. No other reason, really, to explain how you're desperate: to fill her, bury yourself inside her - to where you're promising, coming up behind her and guiding her over - so you can spread those creamy thighs apart, push her shoulders up against the cold surface of the window. Where she'll catch a view of her reflection staring back at her: beautiful, exposed, and hers.

"I'm going to fuck you now," is exactly what she's been begging you to say, is why she ends up feeling, with the deep, twisting need building somewhere, how you'll work your cock so deep into her wanting cunt that the only thing that makes her legs go weak - wobbling, really - is the promise of cock rubbing so close and teasing the slick folds between her legs. Until she's a little more demanding, needy - and fuck, where is all the foreplay you'd promised earlier? That perfect, thick cock of yours is missing. She knows what all this really needs.

"Yeah? You need me here?" and she gets this whine, a little pathetic, but in the cutest way.

Yunjin turns her eyes to you, over her shoulder, just the faintest bit of a sneer. 

Because she needs it, right now - rough, quick, good. 

A gasp catches in her throat when you drag your cockhead through her wet heat, once, twice, and the slide of it against her clit becomes the only thing that matters in the entire goddamn world. 

"Inside," her teeth are clamping hard on her lip now, holding it from trembling as she tries to put words together, "Put," is where she loses focus and you're sucking, and kissing, and biting at her shoulder, "put, fuck. Please, put your, put - that cock of yours in my-" You slip into her hot-soaking-wet cunt, and after you've clenched a fist and brought a palm to the center of the window, so that you could open up your body around her a little easier, her muscles squeeze and grip and milk the first few strokes so tight. So-fucking-good.

There's not even a word for it, how she fit like a glove around the first thrust, but if the expression on your face says anything, it's everything Yunjin wanted and more: the shape, the angle, how you're pressing your fingers so hard into the impossible geometry of her waist, the round of her ass - oh, she’ll be a mess of red marks, shapes and lines, reminders of how good you fucked her - these long deep strokes in and out of her creaming pussy - evidence left where the heat inside her builds and pools.

And god, Yunjin is so, so easy to fuck: you can pound into her as rough and steady and fast as she'd begged - there with your other hand, pulling hard, hard, at the loose, dark locks of her hair. Where it has Yunjin gasping, moaning, the whole nine. She has to look to find her balance - and meets the two silhouettes framed inside the reflection on the window. Two shapes, lost in the blurred shadow and outline of lights outside the hotel window, behind which the whole city and its crowds might have stopped the way they'd started, with the rest of you caught between these strange moments:

First, the mindfulness. The purpose and meaning in movement, sensation. In being alive and young, hot, gorgeous and dumb as you can afford to be be.

Yunjin's murmuring, "right there, I want you," or telling, or begging, "don't, you have no idea, I, no-" until your body presses flush up against hers, hips rocking into her perfect figure - taking you like she was built for it, and everything feels so much tighter now, so much closer. Her palms and cheek against the glass, her knees are all shaking and ready to fold at any moment. "So deep, fuck. Fuck me right there, just like that."

Then as you suppose, the unbridled lust on display: Yunjin's turned to this kind of abandon - she's swearing out loud, saying things that have no name and very little form until you've dragged the roughness of your fingers all over her body and found she needs a palmprint on her inner thighs, her ass. That she's whimpering with every deeper plunge until, finally, she gets what she's after - and the words are falling out of her mouth. All it does is mean nothing now - whatever you've been waiting to hear, the pleas to fuck her harder, the cocksleeve talk, or any other request or order.

It's a small miracle, really, considering how she'd gotten you throbbing and aching with just the press of her lips and the dangerous little curl of her tongue - the tight heat all in the back of her throat - but Yunjin cums first.

Loudly. 

Messily, too, as she rides out the feeling - tightness gathering right into her core. But her head, it's in the clouds and a little far away, the skyline bathing her skin in shades of glittering silver and gold. And god, the heat of her tight, twitching, soaked pussy - pulsing around the thrusting curve of your cock: the sublime kind of place, spot, rhythm.

How her arms give out and she's pressed, flushed, back to chest with you, right there. Her words are soft. Wholly unimaginative: yes and fuck, yes and oh, she wants you, loves how well you fuck. The murmur comes from that gorgeous body of hers, the exact shape of everything that feels good to feel. The jut of her hips and her legs are longer than her height suggests they'd be, flawless from the ankle and foot to her thigh to where your arm wraps around the base of her ribs, hugging her from the back.

It's a perfect fit.

And not in the glass-slipper kind of way that means there is such a thing as a soulmate, no.

"Cum in me," she breathes, and then - all over. That's it. The moment your fingers are splayed back out over the pane of window, she can't hold her gaze steady. Those tears prick up at the corner, where they get caught. Where her voice is too high and pitchy - begging, a whining noise and some syllable. Something inaudible that has pressing these hot, open-mouthed kisses right into the pretty rise-and-falls of her spine. The sloppy-wet sound from your cock slipping back in, and back again, until you're just left fucking these little ragged breathes out of her chest.

The space between her lips and the glass, the white-ghosting breaths of air out between those plump little pouts that have shaped and molded themselves into some version of words, a few half-finished pleads: “kiss, hold, fill, fuck, just," and, "my body, love-

"Your fucking pussy, Yunjin, holy shit, it's - fucking - so, god," you all but growl out.

Pounding into the tight clench of her cunt.

The bed in the other room might be the better choice, the sheets and pillows for more support than the hard wall she's propped against. But the glass, to see the view and take her up against it: it feels nice, cool and comfortable, even when your motion makes it fogged and sticky with condensation. She had, when your first thrust pushed inside the molten heat of her pussy, reached around the corner - fingertips splaying wide apart, up, along the foggy pane, watching the shadow of her palms turn blurry and indistinguishable against the soft glow of neon beyond.

"I'm cumming," you tell her, "I'm cumming - fuck," before shoving her body even further into the glass. Fucking her hard - just short of bending her to the point of where she might break.

That last stroke or two goes a little wild; all that coiled and pressurized want and need, boiling over the moment you fuck your cum deep into her trembling body. This time, your sounds aren't just the thoughtless hum and groan from the depth of your lungs, but some collection of dirty words, grunts. Nasty things. A whole host of obscenities: like how it's for the sake of claiming, leaving something of yourself behind. How you're pulling the smooth, curve of her hips into your body to push as much of yourself inside the gripping warmth of her. How your hot cum is starting to spill from her pink, perfect, hole - all for the better because when you take your thumb and swirl and trace and smear all along her slippery-wet slick, she gets like this: squirming in these lazy, needy little wriggles against your touch.

It takes the two of you sometime longer to move. Not long, but, you know, a little while.

When it is that Yunjin comes back to herself, you feel the smile as the ghost over your arm.

The kind of thing to ask, though you're too fucked to pay attention, are questions about life: where do you go to school, how long will you stay? All of that. There's a quiet moment where your mind plays back, vaguely, a little more intensely, the realization - and regret of it, the waste - of fucking a stranger for a night.

And in a real short moment:

"That was - really good," she says, still not recovered quite enough to walk.

Yunjin sounds all that same: a stranger. Not familiar. That's, like, your last chance or whatever. Before this becomes a one-off.

("Stay for a while?" is what she doesn't manage to ever ask.)

"Have to leave early tomorrow." And she looks at you, shoulders dipping at the ends. She says things like: "my work," and "we have an international flight. Customs is a bitch."

"Oh," is what you say to all that, looking her body over again, drinking down all the small details of her. The ones you'll lose forever after tonight. All of them, you know.

All because that's how it had to be, from the start.

"For sure."

Yunjin's hands are twisting at the end of her hair, stroking and brushing through the silky, black strands. Just for something to do: maybe, optimistically to keep herself occupied with some semblance of a thought that has nothing at all to do with how she can't seem to shake this sudden, cresting wave of frustration - how there's an urgent throb from deep within, pushing into her skin like a force.

You swallow. Try to smile. "It was fun."

-

The hotel's checkout desk is staffed by a cheerful looking man, almost fresh out of high-school. Too cheerful a smile, perhaps, and maybe a little too bright for the time of day. You'd been busy pacing the lobby, trying not to stare at your phone for the third or fourth time since stepping out of the elevator. Your feet have scuffed the ground under the coffee table, around the floral couches - almost tripping over the boutiques lined in the middle of this path. Likely you'd have considered them if you weren't focused elsewhere.

Thinking about how you'd put off any discussion about piecing back together your rental suit.

"Did you have a good stay, sir?" the concierge asks, reaching out across his desk to pick up a card. He's placing a machine in front of him.

Your face warms ever-so-slightly. "Wonderful."

"That's what we like to hear. Just swipe your key here."

The machine's screen flashes and there's another cheerful beep, indicating everything was processed.

"Could you get me my receipt?"

"Absolutely. One second."

And the printer whirs to life: spitting out line-after-line of printed data. Until there are twelve characters of nonsense and garbage, including but not limited to the link to a questionnaire and an explanation for all the boxes marked 'x'. It also indicates your total costs (minimal, really) and lists a detailed breakdown of services: breakfast, in-room bar, laundry, towels - all the necessities.

"There, would you like- wait. Sir? Someone asked me to hand this to you," and after reaching under the desk, "looks like a suit jacket of sorts."

"Oh."

He raises an eyebrow. "From the event, I'm assuming."

It's hard to tell what it's about. But as you wrap your fingers into the cloth of the fabric, tug at it a bit, there's a note that slips and falls to the floor.

You sort of frown, skeptical. Fumble with the note. And the note says this:

In your absence, I helped myself to your jacket, your wallet, an extra serving of breakfast, as well as a large iced-coffee. Promise you I'll get the next one. Call me: (xxx)-xxx-xxxx.

Affectionately, your (girl)friend for an evening,

Huh Yunjin

[jessicas-pi]

When Father breaks the news about the Jedi to Hera, she just stares up at him in bewilderment, then runs into her room and slams the door.

She doesn't come out for hours, and when she does, her eyes are dry---she hasn't cried. At dinner, she numbly remarks that they'll have to buy her something in white, because she's in mourning now.

From that day on, she wears no other color.

Hera never sheds a tear. She can't. Not with the Empire watching. But she wears white, and hears the people around her ask each other who Cham Syndulla's daughter is in mourning for--and sometimes, she hears other people answer.

It was her soulmate, I think. I hear he was a Jedi.

She wears white long past the time of mourning has ended. She wears it defiantly at dinner parties with Imperial Admirals. She wears it when she works on her mechanic projects and when she takes flying lessons and when she graduates at the top of her class. She wears it when her family goes on the run, and then she starts talking about him.

Caleb had eyes like the clearest sea, she says abruptly, one time, when some of her peers are gathered together chatting about their soulmates and she's sitting on the edge of the group, staring solemnly at nothing.

Caleb used to call me his little sister, she laughs in tragic commiseration, when her best friend is bemoaning his soulmate's habit of referring to him as her brother-from-another-mother. He didn't know I wanted him to marry me someday.

Hera talks about him freely. She tells how they met. She tells how they talked late into the night on comm calls until her parents started confiscating her commlink overnight. But she doesn't talk about her soulmark. Few people know where it once was, and no one has seen the place it used to be.

She wears long sleeves and keeps her right shoulder covered constantly, hiding the smooth skin that bore a three-pronged mark. She has to. If she doesn't, people will realize that she has been lying to the whole galaxy since she was nine years old.

Hera wears white because she wants everyone else to believe she's mourning her dead soulmate.

But the truth is, she doesn't mourn for Caleb.

She can't mourn for Caleb.

Her soulmark is still there.

Caleb isn't dead.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Off to See the Wizard (3)

previous | next

tw: canon-typical violence, bad accents

"Wut?" Simon stutters, in a voice you've never heard before. You've been on comms with him when missions have gone to shit, and he has never sounded as nervous as he does right now.

"It's just-" You huff out a breath. Why does this have to be so hard? Usually conversation flows with Simon like a stream over rocks, smooth and unhurried. "It seems like you're upset. You looked like you wanted to hide when John introduced us, and now..." You let the sentence trail off. "Where's the man who, two weeks back, spent watch sharing the worst puns I've ever heard?"

Simon looks at you, finally meeting your eyes, before glancing quickly away. "I dunno wha' 'cher talkin' about," he mumbles.

You can't help but snort in response. "That's such bullshit, Simon! You forget I've heard you lie before," you remind him. "You're usually much better than this."

Simon's mask twitches and you glimpse little laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. You think maybe he's smiling a little behind the mask.

You decide to push your luck, knowing your Simon is stuck somewhere in this man who seems to sit so uneasily in his place. So you smile and say, "Go ahead and give me another."

Simon holds your gaze a few moments longer than last time and mutters you, "I don' like change."

You keep your eyes on his, on the parts of his face you can see, and on the way his hands are twitching against the table top. "Liar." You're grinning at him now.

Simon flattens his hands against the table and leans forward a little bit. Lowering his voice, he says, "We don' need help."

"Eeeh!" You make a buzzer sound and tell him, "Wrong answer, but thanks for playing." He chuckles like you're used to, low and dark. "I've seen the same intel you have, and you're going to want me on the other side of those comms."

This time he looks at you and holds your gaze. "Yer right, Oz. We will."

You're so shocked at the first honest response from him you don't know what to do. You gape at him for a moment, unsure of what to expect next, when he floors you again.

Simon looks down at the table and, so quietly you think you misheard, says, "Yer prettier 'an I thought you'd be. An' I knew you'd be pretty."

You're saved from having to respond at all as Kyle, Soap, and John finally come back with food.

"Scran's nae bad teday," Soap says, sliding a tray in front of you. You mumble out your thanks and catch John looking between you and Simon. You hope he can't see how nervous you are. Simon's posture gives nothing away, which might be his biggest tell right now.

"Solid copy, Ghost?" John asks him, and he merely grunts as he digs into his food.

The rest of your day is spent going back over the information you have. Laswell agreed with your idea for transport, so you spend a few hours arranging something both more discreet and reliable, calling in a favor or two in her name.

By the time dinner rolls around, you have given yourself no less than a dozen pep talks about your interaction with Simon at lunch. You've played out a million different scenarios and finally opted to take your cues from him.

You don't have long to wait as he and Soap come to your office at 6:30. He stands back and lets Soap do most of the talking, which he does all the way to the barracks. When you get there, you give him a quizzical look. "I don't know the base we'll, but isn't the mess the other way?"

Soap's smile borders on feral. "Aye, but Cap'n decided, 'cuz a yer bein 'ere, to take ye off base tonight." Beside him, you catch Simon's eye and the eye roll he gives to Soap's back.

"Cap'n jus' wan'ed tuh show ya some 'a the city, seein' as you'll be here instead 'a home when we're gone." He finishes quietly. Seems like no one is happy when reminded the whole reason you're here is to support them while they're gone.

Simon unlocks the barracks and ushers you in, following behind with a gentle hand on your lower back. Now three of your boys have made the same unconscious motion. When will Soap? "We're gonna head out in 20. Tha enough time fer ya ta get ready?" he asks.

You look at him and Soap and notice they're dressed in civvies. You're not sure how you missed that detail before because now that you really look, it's clear they've cleaned up and changed since lunch. "Twenty should be fine. I mean, it's not fancy, right?"

Soap winks at you, "Nah. Ya look perfect already, bon. Yoo could go as ya are 'n be feen."

You pause, smile frozen on your face. You don't know how to take that compliment , so you stammer, "Uh, thanks. I'll just..." You point towards your room. "Meet you in the rec room?"

Simon nods, and you walk away. You hear a light thump and an "Oi, Lt, wha' was tha' fer?" as your door closes.

It turns out John's idea of a tour of the town is more about how to get off base and where not to go alone. "Unfortunately, can' let ya borrow a military ride, Oz. Yer not cleared for 'em." So instead he shows you where to catch the bus - "ne'er do a ride share. Can' have 'em on base" - and where some key places in town are. "Asda's gunna have e'rything ya need 's far as snacks 'n toiletries. An' if ya want food tha's not from the mess, pick somethin' over 'ere," he says, sweeping his arm to the streets northwest of where the bus would drop you.

He doesn't take his own advice though, parking in a lot several blocks south and taking everyone to a pub bearing the name The Dancing Bear. The others walk ahead of you and John. Clearly this is a place they've been before.

As you follow the group into the space, the man behind the bar calls out to John who simply raises a open hand. You watch the man's eyebrows rise while he looks over the group, finally landing on you. You can't quite interpret the look he gives John, but he points to a table towards the back. You notice it's nestled in an area not immediately viewable from the door but with a line of sight to most of the room. As they had at lunch, Simon and John take up positions along the wall where they can see almost everything. Kyle and Soap are sat next to John and Simon respectfully, which leaves you to take the seat between the two sergeants.

You hear heavy steps come up behind you, and while your first instinct is to tense - you completely understand why soldiers and cops try to not put their backs to a room - no one you're with seems concerned.

When the footsteps stop, a gruff voice says, "Nice ta see ya, boys. An' ye've brought a friend."

You assume this is the same man from behind the bad, but while John was smiling a moment ago, you can tell it's now strained. You can only guess what caused the change.

"What've they got on you, dollface? Ye're too gorgeous to be here, with them, by choice." The man laughs at his own joke as you turn. You don't know how often the boys come here, and you certainly don't want to burn bridges if they think the joke is funny, so you simply give the man a tight smile.

John gets his attention and orders drinks for the boys then looks to you. You order a soda; these guys do not need to see what a lightweight you are, and you definitely don't need your inhibitions lowered. Kyle orders chips and curry for the table as you all decide on your meals.

The atmosphere is much different than at lunch, when the lore of being the 141 kept you insulated. John and Simon are scowling more than before, to the point where you suggest everyone heads back to base.

"Why?" Simon asks.

You look at him then over your shoulder to the small group playing darts, the few people at the bar, the man who was at your table and another woman, both making drinks behind the bar. "Oh, I don't know," you drawl. "Maybe because it looks like you're trying to stare the place down."

Simon's eyes snap to yours as Soap giggles. "She's got a point, Lt. Yeh look right pissed."

He turns slightly to see where Simon has been staring, his own face morphing from carefree to annoyed as Simon says, "It'd be fine 's long 's other people'd mind their fuckin' business."

You look at him pleadingly. "Then let's go, really. I want this to be nice for us all, and clearly you're bothered by something."

Simon looks at John who claps a hand on his shoulder. "Oz's right, Ghost. Let it go or we're gone." Though he's calm and the tone is light, John's words come across as a mild threat.

You make it through the meal without another incident, but as you get up to leave, the guys take up positions around you. It's impossible to miss the way John leads the way with Kyle and Soap chatting your ears off while Simon trails you silently.

Back at the barracks, you say your goodnights and turn in while the others meet in John's office. "Tha' was a bad idea," Ghost says. "Too many eyes on 'er."

"Not sure base is any better," Gaz says. "Plenty a' the rookies saw 'er as I walked 'er to lunch. Got the feeling some idiot is biding their time 'til we're gone."

Price looks around at them. "Is this something ya want? Truly?"

"How can we not, Cap?" Soap asks. "She's perfect. And perfect fer us." Gaz nods, and Ghost meets Price's eyes unblinkingly.

"Alright then. We got less than a week to get this done."

part 1 part 2 part 4

~~

Taglist: @blackhawkfanatic @starriestarlight @grayskel @mxtokko @imjustheretofightforlove @miss-vanta-likes-to-write

[writerpeach]

I've lost count how many times I've been down bad for Annyeongz's legs

Both of them sitting on your lap, crossing their legs to firmly tighten their thighs together, the perfect shape to caress in the palm of your hands.

They are getting comfy to the point of just nonchalantly kicking off their heels, hearing them go 'kick clack' on the hard floor. Their well manicured feet slightly dangling in the air, toes barely touching the ground, forming the perfect arc with their soles.

If they 'force' you to choose who has currently the best legs, would you follow your gut and tell them the truth?

If this was the previous Peach then Yujin would probably win hands down. Now though... I'm not so sure... 🤔🧐

dammit frisky

---

You've never been so happy to have such a dilemma and these options. You have the best of both worlds; the smoothness of Wonyoung's long creamy legs or the deliciousness of Yujin's more powerful, thicker thighs—equally irresistible and silky soft when wrapped around your head, around your waist, never letting you go.

"Daddy likes my legs better, right?" Wonyoung questions, pulling her short dress even higher up, leaving you unable to help yourself, the urge to reach out, running a hand all along her inner thigh.

Yujin meanwhile does the same and scoots in closer, opening the buttons of your shirt and tracing her delicate finger up your bare chest until it reaches under your chin, lifting it upward, forcing eye contact. "Don't get ahead of yourself, princess. Daddy knows mine are the best. He loves having them on his strong shoulders while he drives his big, fat cock into me all night long. Isn't that right?"

Wonyoung, despite the cute little huff, isn't fazed as Yujin responds, narrowing her eyes at the youngest. You can sense the competitiveness building inside both of them, these two sets of manicured fingers roaming all over your chest. You swallow hard, already too distracted as the pair press lips against your neck and tease, just wanting to steal attention their way.

"Daddy loves when my legs are in the air, when I'm all folded up for him, letting him plunge into every deepest fucking part of me, nothing to stop him," Wonyoung adds with a cheeky, innocent look that stirs heat deep in the pit of your stomach. "I know daddy loves breeding me and pumping me full of his hot cum more than he loves anything else."

Yujin breaks off from her deep kiss that's already left a mark on your neck, looking Wonyoung in the eye with an intensity, a heat you've seldom seen on the girl, shaking her head. "Maybe, princess—but daddy loves fucking his thick load deep into my tight little cunt when I wrap my legs so tight around him that he can't possibly pull out. There's nothing he loves more than completely emptying his balls inside me while I'm all hot and sweaty."

"Slut."

"And proud of it. Jealous that daddy loves to creampie me so much? Sorry, it's not my fault that you can't handle such a big cock. I'm sure someday you'll get there," Yujin returns, never breaking eye contact and maintaining a constant smirk of triumph.

Wonyoung scoffs. She definitely won't admit defeat. And Yujin simply grins at the unsuccessful attempts to conceal her clear anger, the frustration. "Daddy, choose now. Me or Yujinnie. Come on, prove her wrong."

Just the thought of choosing either of them is torturous and absolutely impossible.

So you refuse to.

Yujin can't hide the amusement when you pick neither of them, instead silencing Wonyoung with a kiss, quieting whatever protests are rising in her throat. This is the sign for the three of you to form some semblance of a triple kiss, before switching between Wonyoung and Yujin, until you eventually lean back and watch the two of them make out all sloppily, swapping saliva and realizing how easy it is to shut Wonyoung up.

Then with this fleeting glance shared between the three of you, it's Yujin who speaks first, sliding the straps of Wonyoung's dress off and groping her chest, sucking, slobbering on those pretty nipples.

"Now that this is settled, help me get these clothes off this fucking brat. We've got a nice, big comfortable couch to ruin the princess on. Don't we, daddy?"

[4only1]

Could you please write Gitae obsessing over Jake's gf? Him getting jealous when he got to know that reader was dating Jake and when he tried to pursue her she had no intention of betraying Jake. This made him more determined to make her his and Jake hating his brother more. Thanks!!!

Trouble

Gitae Kim x Reader (Also technically x Jake Kim but barely) Word Count: 943 Masterlist -----------------------

Peace had finally returned to Big Deal. After the recent events, Big Deal was finally proven innocent, allowing the gang to return to the street. It made you happy that now you technically, weren’t dating a wanted man anymore.

You had been sweeping, when a large shadow had overcast you. Looking up, you are greeted with the sight of a very tall man. You couldn't recognize him, so he clearly wasn’t part of Big Deal. His words only confirmed your suspicions. 

“Hello, I’m looking for someone, can you help me? Where is Big Deal’s Number 1, Jake Kim?”

His voice was smooth, but still kept you on edge. You didn’t want to tell the man where Jake was, he sounded like bad news. Swallowing your nerves, you spoke.

“Oh Jake, I’m not quite sure, but he isn’t here at the moment.” 

It took a lot of energy to keep your voice steady, but it still wavered a bit. The man in front of you leaned closer, causing you to take a step back, clinging onto your broom tighter. He examined you, closely, seeming to like what he was seeing. 

He moved closer, again, causing you to take a step back. This pattern continued until your back met a wall. The man reached an arm above your head, effectively caging you in.

“Now I came here to see my brother, but I found something much tastier. What’s your name?” 

Brother? The gears in your head worked quickly to deduce that this man was in fact, Jake’s older half brother, Gitae Kim. What did he want with Jake, and why did he have to come after everything had just settled down.

“I’m not a fan of repeating myself, so I'll ask once more. What is your name?” He leaned in closer, his face right in front of yours. You didn’t really have a choice, knowing it would get ugly if you continued to refuse.

“(Y/n) (L/n). Why are you here?”

Since you told him your name, you felt you had the right to ask him a question. Maybe he was feeling friendlier than he looked and would answer. And he did, although whether it was due to him feeling kind or taking a liking to you was up to debate.

“I told you, I’m looking for Jake Kim. You said he isn’t here, so why don’t you keep me company until he is.”

Worry began filling you. You didn’t particularly trust this man. At all! His intentions with Jake were obviously bad and he clearly was playing with you right now. You needed to stay strong, and hopefully, get Gitae to leave.

"Jake won't be back for a while, so don't waste your time here."

"Now, now, no need to get upset with me. I was just asking a question. I can't help but wanna hang around a girl as pretty as you. I approched you for a reason."

He spoke with not a care in the world. It was as if he knew that whatever he wanted to happen, would happen. You tensed as he moved, his hand coming up from his side towards you cheek.

Thankfully, the tension was interrupted when someone grabbed Gitae’s wrist, pulling it away from you.

“Now, now, harassing girl’s is no way to get a date. I can give you some pointers if you want some romantic advice.” Sinu had appeared.

You breathed a sigh of relief, as Sinu’s appearance allows you to slip away from Gitae. You moved yourself to hide a few steps behind Sinu, out of harm’s way, but in reach if needed.

The conversation between the two men was a blur to you. All you could think about was what this man wanted to do to Jake. As the two men clashed, you took a few more steps back, until a kick to Gitae’s face caused him to look at you. No, he actually looked past you.

Following the gaze, you let out a sigh of relief as Jake’s figure appeared. You moved quickly, hugging yourself around Jake’s arm, who reacted in confusion.

“(Y/n), what are you doing? Not that I don’t mind, but can someone tell me what is going on here.” 

Just as Jake spoke, his brother’s arms wrapped around both of you, hugging you tightly. Gitae’s arm squished you between him and Jake, making it a bit hard to breath. He spoke, but you zoned out, too focused on the feeling of his muscular arm squeezing you.

Gitae removed his arm from Jake’s shoulders but kept it over yours. He took a step back, dragging you with him, being quite happy that you weren’t putting up much of a fight. He couldn’t help but admire you, despite not fighting back against him, you didn’t let yourself look weak.

Jake, getting angry at Gitae’s hold, moved, pushing his brother’s arm off, and pulling you behind him. You peaked out, finally paying attention to the conversation.

“I don’t care that you're my brother. You come here, asking about Gapryong Kim and now harassing my girlfriend! What is your problem?” Jake yelled, arm out, guarding you.

Gitae’s expression darkened. Girlfriend? Now that isn’t right. He had taken a liking to you, wanting to get a better taste, only for you to be taken by his brother. Despite this new information, that didn’t take away from your appeal. In fact, it made you even more delicious. 

He now had a second objective, making this girl his, no matter how much of a fight she put up. She seemed loyal to Jake, but that didn’t matter, a chase made things more fun anyways.

-----------------------

Please excuse any grammer and spelling mistakes.

That first picture is just 😘chef's kiss. But who TF is this man below?

😞 I still love him but why does he look like he hasn't eaten in days. He's losing muscle by the chapter. His downfall was when the art style changed and they unslutted him (buttoned his shirt up. Speaking of which, did this man only bring one set of clothes?)

Sorry for the rant, I didn't wanna make another post.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Leonardo's First Love—Splinter's Talk

When Leo realized his heart was being divided, he felt afraid. 

His attention had always been captured by his family and his mission—he knew what it was like to love them. But never had he thought his love was going to be snatched up, split, and taken almost wholly by someone of the race that thought they were monsters. 

When Leo noticed the pull towards something else, something new, he pushed himself away. 

He found himself tonight an observer to soft skin, a vulnerable but inviting form that seemed to master existing as is without striving for status-quo. And it was entrancing, desirable; sparked sensations in him he had put under wraps years ago as a teen. Useless instinct. Basic drive. He had more to expect from the world, and expected more, he did…but every night, went back to the same old scenario. Her. 

"Get out of my head," he groaned as he laid up in the quiet lair when he was supposed to be resting, lost in thought. Smooth curves. A small stature against his. Hands, running down—he paused. Somewhere in the middle of a fantasy, he'd heard the words "I love you". That brought him back to the fact that it wasn't just desire. For that there were things he felt embarrassed to indulge in sometimes; but it didn't help anymore. Because those people in the screens, the words on a page of an R-rated book, were not her. Couldn't be, even if he tried. He wanted to know for just a moment what it was like to be human. To have that possibility of love there for the taking. And to never go for it, with all the permission those men had just for being human, he was disgusted. Feeling bitter over that fact sent his mind into overdrive—because he would feel even worse if some man did go for it with her. Like a walking contradiction, he was fighting with himself every step of the way. From she should stay away, to she should be with me. 

He got up to practice some forms. Maybe do maintenance on his flexibility. Sharpen his katanas. Anything to stop thinking and start doing. Somewhere during his steady training, he heard Master Splinter enter. 

"What is the matter, my son?" asked Splinter. He always knew even when his more stoic child Leonardo was troubled. 

"What's the matter? Nothing's the matter. I'm fine," Leo replied, balancing on one leg. "[Y/N] should head home, it's almost time for patrol." 

Splinter sat cross-legged down on a cushion with a slight smile. "So quick to mention [Y/N], even when you're preoccupied," he commented, "I told her she was welcome to stay whenever she liked. To repay for her generosity." That generosity being, stocking their fridge with things they couldn't get a hold of, to help out the heroes of New York. Something along the lines of making sure they were eating right for all they did. 

Leo paused, "What? I'm not quick, I was just saying…Splinter, it's weird having someone around now." 

"Does not have to be 'weird'," Splinter said. Leo felt his black eyes on him even when turned around. He was flustered, still going through the smooth motions of his kata. "Tell me what is really going on, Leonardo. I know you have something on your mind." 

Giving up his rotations, Leo slumped a little as he stepped off of the pedestal, setting his katanas down as he faced his father. "I don't know what's up with me, Master. I just don't get it." 

Splinter gave a knowing hum. Still, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It seems like you've been quite bothered over [Y/N], my son."

He knew he couldn't hide anything from Splinter. There was no point in deflecting longer; he was only embarrassing himself. Finally, he admitted, "I can't…you know the way it is, Master, it'll never work. She's cool with us, but she's a human. And I'm a mutant." He sat down before his father on a plain mat. 

"Yes, a very beautiful human, too," the old rat mused, gently stroking the longer hairs of his chin. Leo flinched and opened his mouth to switch the focus of the conversation, but Splinter beat him to it. "Surely a woman like that would not ever spend money on, cook for, and give quite undivided attention to such a mutant when he's training. You are correct, my son, it's over." 

Leo's face flushed cold, blood rushing to his cheeks as he listened to his father. "Master Splinter! I'm being serious!" he fussed as he leaned forward onto his palms. "I don't know what to do, I—" 

"—want to stop feeling this way, yes, I know," Splinter finished for him. "Oh, young love." 

It was quiet for more than a moment. Leo's face softened, his blue eyes studying his father's as he gave Leo a look of acknowledgement. He gathered the courage stuck in his gut fluttering about his stomach, mind bouncing between [Y/N] and what his dad was saying. "I made myself stop thinking about love and stuff a long time ago. Mikey's always going on about it. I know Raph wants to be accepted more than anything, and Donnie, he's got his secrets. I'm supposed to be the example. I was supposed to show them we can live and not care. That our lives are worthwhile even without humans being involved. But now…" 

Splinter raised a brow at him. 

"I'm in love," Leo said. "And—and want it so badly." 

Splinter reached forward to place a hand on his shoulder. As soon as [Y/N] had entered their lives, he knew this day was going to come for one of his sons. It was inevitable, he thought. "Welcome to manhood, my son, this was fated to happen at some point. I've only been waiting since she arrived." 

Leo felt exposed. He felt unsure, and that uncertainty was driving him insane. He was always steadfast in his approach. Knowing he was a fish out of water in this situation disarmed him. 

"Master Splinter, what do I do? Tell me." 

Splinter's idle smile left as the tone turned  more serious suddenly, adding to Leo's growing discomfort. "You must understand that having [Y/N] means that your burden will grow. Not only will it be your brothers you will have to protect, but her, as well. It is your job to defend her from anything that could put her in harm's way. She is not built to fight like you. She is vulnerable, and being affiliated to us will only add to the dangers already present in this world. That is what you must come to terms with. But you must not ignore your heart, either." 

Having another body to look after. He contemplated that before answering. When he thought about defending her, it did not feel like an added chore. He wanted to. What was he so strong for if not to also protect the woman he loved? And what he had said before…could she have felt the same way? 

"You've prepared me more than enough to be able to handle another person, Master." 

He wanted nothing more than to hold her. That was something he could not deny. He enjoyed being an observer to a way of life so different from his; femininity, not always being the one taking care of others. He loved his family, but at times, leading was tiring. He wanted to forget about it for just a little bit, maybe lay down, be with someone he didn't have to "manage".

Splinter would have been lying to have said he wasn't surprised at all. But he knew his sons, inside and out—Leonardo had iron will. 

"It is your choice, Leonardo," Splinter said amiably. 

His choice? He wanted to laugh. There almost wasn't a choice. He felt like every road led back to her. It was either face his fears, or stay awake every night plagued with the possibilities of what could be. And he didn't handle fear well. It twisted his stomach and ate him up inside when he felt uncertain, afraid. God, one word is all I need from her. Just one "yes". One touch. One kiss.  He wanted to feel her hands explore his plastron, run along the edge of his shell. Love what made him, him. 

Overcoming the hesitance he felt, he let out a deep breath, committing to a final answer. " I don't know how, but...I want to try. I can't let this go. There has to be a reason all of this happened. If everything that's happened to us up until now has been destiny...I can believe it for this, too. Thank you, master."

Just felt like writing our leader in blue having a talk with his father 😌 Going to make this a little mini series for all the boys!

[thewitchblue]

Death was her curse and her gift.

"Tim and I couldn't find out all of her abilities, but she's deadly both from a distance and up close."

Bruce told his children sternly. The Wraith was the newest vigilante and metahuman in Gotham. Her black bodysuit held concealments for her dual blades that release without a sound. She was as silent as a cat and as deadly as a hurricane.

"Avoid her at all costs. Until we find out more about her, she is a threat. Do not engage in a fight."

Bruce's voice was stern and worried. He hated having another masked vigilante running around in Gotham. He can't tell yet if she's a criminal or fighting on the side of good. Sure, she's been on their side so far, but that can change very quickly and very easily.

Unfortunately, his hunt proved fruitless. Every time he got close, it was like she melted into the shadows. She was gone before he said a single word. She did, however, wink at him before she vanished into the night. It was like she knew he wanted to question her, but she had no interest in talking while on patrol.

Jason, of course, didn't listen. He went out looking for her. If he stumbled across a criminal while on the hunt, he obviously took care of them, but his main focus was finding the phantom and questioning her himself.

After a particularly fruitless encounter, he found himself on top of a rooftop, sat down with his legs dangling off the ledge. This was becoming infuriating.

"Fuck! Why is it so hard to find her."

He curses, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He's normally so good at tracking people down, but she's, well, a phantom. He's halfway convinced she's actually a ghost. How does someone just vanish into thin air like that? Does she hide in the shadows and simply walk away? Does she teleport? He couldn't be sure. How was he supposed to find someone who's untrackable? She leaves without a trace. No footsteps in the grime filled streets, no scent he can smell with his slightly heightened senses (he's no bloodhound but surely he'd smell something), even his trackers were removed nearly the second they are placed or straight up avoided entirely. It's like the shadows smack it away for her.

By the end of patrol, he's not happy in the slightest. He's sat outside the Batcave, not wanting to go home yet but not wanting to hang out with his family. His entire night was fruitless.

His head snaps up once he feels a hand on his shoulder. Before he could complain about it, assuming the hand was one of his family members, he stops himself. He notes the hand is much smaller than any of his siblings and certainly smaller than Bruce's massive hands. Then he feels it. A strong tug, almost as if he's been pulled towards a destination. Before he could even struggle, he finds himself in his apartment with a certain ghost vigilante sitting lazily on his favourite chair.

"I believe you have some questions for me, Big Red?"

Her voice was smooth, with a casual tone despite the very horrifying experience unfolding in front of him. He watches almost in awe as twin blades release from her suit silently with a flick of her wrist. She makes no move to threaten him, however. She merely cleans them with a nearby towel. Her eyes watched him with a calculated look as two shadowy hands disarm him with ease.

His brain finally catches up to his situation. He's disarmed, the vigilante knows both where he lives and where the Batcave is, and he has said vigilante on his chair with blades casually being cleaned.

"What do you know?"

Was the only question his dumbfounded brain could think of. What does he do in this situation? If she's a villain, she could've killed him, but if she was good, she wouldn't run away and avoid him.

"Everything, Jason."

Those two words nearly sends him into a panic. What counts as everything?

"Everything about me?"

He was almost hopeful. He desperately hoped she didn't know anything about his family. She lazily hung her legs off the arm of the chair, leaning back while still facing him.

"I know everything about everyone in your vigilante family. You became part of the family after nearly stealing the Batmobile wheels and you died because of the Joker. You've been revived, and honestly you've been through the wringer. Disowned for a moment, with mommy and double daddy issues. Your best friend is named Roy and you are about to have a secret girlfriend."

She said everything with confidence. She really did know everything. Then his brows furrow in confusion,

"Did you just ask me out after telling me my entire life story?"

He was equal parts flabbergasted and flattered. She was bold, that much he can tell. She swings her legs back to the front of the chair to face him normally. Calmly, she replied,

"That depends on what your answer to the question is."

He doesn't even know her name. He said,

"I don't know anything about you."

As if she could tell what he was thinking, she said,

"I'm Y/N. If you kiss me, I might let you take off my mask."

As silent as a tiger, she stalked towards him with a grin, her blades returning to her suit as smoothly as they came out to lower her threat level in his mind. Shadows swirl around her, almost clinging to her like an overprotective best friend. She really isn't here to threaten him. He knows she could skewer him like a kebab or sap away his life force, but he coyly asked,

"How am I going to kiss you through my helmet, punk?"

She smirked, pulling off his helmet in a shockingly gentle manner. He wraps his hands easily around her waist and pulls her closer. She was so close that he could smell her perfume and feel her body heat.

"Well, I am good at keeping secrets."

He said with a sly grin before kissing her. To hell with whatever the others think about their relationship. Sometimes, it's a good thing to take risks.

[supercorpkid]

Would it really kill you if we kissed? Part 2

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x B!D!Reader, Alex Danvers x B!D!Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader, Esmé Danvers

Word Count: 3010

Previously on part 1. Part 2 of 3.

You start spending more time with Esmé, filling your days with her endless energy and her excitement over everything new on this island. You’d planned on being here for the family time anyway, but lately, it’s become easier to dodge Kara’s concerned glances and Lena’s quiet observations. Esmé, at least, never asks questions you’re not ready to answer.

It doesn’t stop Kara from trying, though. You find yourself slipping out of family dinners early, ducking behind palm trees when you spot her coming your way, feigning sleep when she knocks on your door at night. You know it’s getting obvious—Kara’s face fell when you bailed on last night’s dinner, and Alex’s knowing sigh was almost loud enough to break through the silence you’ve wrapped around yourself. But would they even understand if you told them?

Esmé’s simpler. When you’re with her, it’s just fun, silly games and laughter that doesn’t get weighed down by questions. For now, you let yourself hide behind that. That is until Esmé notices, of course. Kids always do, with that unfiltered clarity adults forget to keep.

It catches you by surprise when the two of you are building sandcastles, the sun heavy and warm, and she says, “I miss hanging out with Aunt Kara and Aunt Lena together. You know, like… like we used to.”

You tense, your hands pausing mid-sculpt. “They’re busy with grown-up stuff. It happens.”

Esmé gives you a look, so knowing it’s almost painful. “You’re a bad liar.”

You sigh, brushing sand from your fingers. “I guess I am.”

“Is it because of that thing you can't tell Aunt Kara, but you can tell my mom?”

It takes you by surprise, the perceptiveness of it, the way she’s pinpointed exactly what’s unraveling between you and your sisters without even understanding why. You swallow, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Sort of.”

“I wish I had a sister. If I did, I'd tell her everything! And she would be my best friend!”

"Well, your mom is my best friend and she is my sister too."

She spares a look over her shoulder, to Kara on the other side of the beach swimming alone in the ocean. "I bet Aunt Kara feels lonely."

It’s… whoa. A lot more insightful than you'd expect from a six-year-old.

Kara’s attempts to reach you haven’t gone unnoticed. She’s patient, but only for so long, and it’s clear to everyone around you that you’re holding her at arm’s length.  But what's worse is that you avoid Alex too, because you don't wanna tell her what happened. She's gonna tell you that you missed your chance to come clean, which is obvious and yet extremely unhelpful. 

It’s so evident you're keeping your distance, that when Lena finds you sneaking behind a bush one evening, she doesn’t even act surprised.

"Hey!" Lena’s voice makes you jump, her warm presence somehow amplifying your guilt. "Why are you hiding behind a bush? And why does it feel like I haven't seen you in days?"

"What? It hasn't been days." It has. She raises her eyebrows, and you smooth your hands over your clothes. "I thought I saw a hedgehog," you lie, forcing a smile. She doesn’t look convinced. "What are you up to?"

"I thought you and I could go on a walk," she says, her smile soft, irresistible. You’re about to argue, but she throws a cheap shot. "You know, you did promise me some alone time."

"Did I?" You try a joke, but, as with the last few attempts, it doesn’t quite land with her.

"You don’t have to come if you're more interested in the hedgehog. I could probably hold my own against the wild animals in the forest."

"Yeah, I’m sure you can, but I’d hate to miss you fighting a snake, so I might as well tag along. Wouldn’t want to miss the show."

"Very kind of you, darling." Lena’s eyes light up with humor, and the two of you start toward the nearest forest trail. It’s close to the resort—too close for any real wildlife, which is probably the point.

The conversation is supposed to be casual, just friends catching up. She asks about your thesis, even a few things about your superhero life. But as relaxed as it should be, you can’t shake the tension simmering beneath the surface. Every laugh, every shared glance, every tiny silence, and you’re swallowing feelings, nearly choking on unsaid words. Your heartbeat drums in your ears, terrified that one slip-up could give everything away.

"Kara is so thrilled to have you to share these experiences with. I bet it’s lonely, having to figure out this superhero lifestyle on your own."

"I don’t think I’m helping that much, to be honest. I’m just… following her lead most of the time."

"I think you're more important than you give yourself credit for." Lena touches your arm, her eyes soft and unwavering, making it impossible to shrug it off. "For everyone, not just Kara."

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You mutter the words with such disbelief that Lena almost flinches.

She doesn’t let it go, though. She stops, making you pause too, her expression puzzled but determined.

"Y/N, darling." Just one word—darling—and your heart is pounding, each beat a tiny betrayal. "You know I mean it, right? We wouldn’t miss hanging out with you so much if you weren’t—"

"So fun to have around!" you cut in, your voice unnaturally bright.

Lena reaches for your hand, her gaze softening in a way that makes it impossible to hide. "If you weren’t so incredibly special."

This is it—the moment you could be honest, vulnerable, bare open like she is. But Kara might be in love with her. And she’s probably in love with your sister too, because who would choose you over Kara? No one. Not even you.

So you bite your tongue, force a smile, and watch the moment slip past. “Yeah, I—I don’t know. Maybe the superhero life just isn’t for me.”

“Oh.” Lena blinks, visibly thrown, and when you realize what you’ve just said, it’s too late. Can’t take it back. You’ve tried so hard to hide how you feel about her, you didn’t even think about the other secrets you need to protect.

“Not that I’ll stop!” you rush to reassure her. “I’d never stop supering and leave Kara to it. I just… wonder, sometimes. But, um, everyone wonders about things they’ll never act on, right?”

You can feel Lena’s gaze linger on you as you stumble through your words. Her silence feels weighty, loaded with questions she doesn’t voice. Instead, she’s watching you with that careful, gentle look she has—the one that makes you feel like she can see straight through every defense you’re barely managing to hold up.

“Y/N,” Her voice is low, softer than usual, and you can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “If you ever feel like talking… Really talking, I mean—I’ll listen, you know that, right?”

You breathe deep, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the way she’s looking is too much; she’s seeing right through you, and every instinct you have screams to deflect, to put distance between you and that sharp, all-seeing gaze.

“I know, Lena. I just—” You pause, forcing the words clawing up your throat back down, swallowing hard against the sting of tears that threaten to break free. “I don’t have much to say right now, but… thank you.”

Her fingers brush down your arm slowly, lingering for a split second before letting go. She doesn’t push, but there’s something in her eyes, something searching, that leaves you feeling bare. She’s not fooled, you know that. But she doesn’t press further, only offers a soft nod.

“I just want to make sure you know that you’re not alone.” Her voice is so gentle, it makes your throat tighten.

Her words land with a bittersweet ache, a reminder of exactly how not alone you actually are—and yet, how impossible it feels to share any of it. You swallow, nodding a little too quickly, desperate to end this before you give yourself away completely.

“I appreciate it,” you mumble, unable to meet her eyes. “Anyway, uh… we should head back before it gets dark.”

A tiny smile curves her lips, one filled with patience, and it only makes the weight in your chest feel heavier. She sees through you, sees the things you’re too afraid to say. And as you walk back, her presence beside you is both comforting and unbearable, the knowledge that she’d listen if you let her like a gentle but relentless pressure against the wall you’re so intent on keeping up.

When you finally reach the resort, you mumble something about needing to freshen up before dinner, ducking away before she can say anything else. But her words stay with you, lingering in the back of your mind: you’re not alone.

Even though you've never felt as lonely and isolated as you do now.

This trip, this whole thing, was a really bad idea.

You throw together your bag in a rush, moving faster than any human eye could see. This trip was supposed to be a break, a chance to breathe—but with each day, it feels like the land on this tiny island is getting even smaller. There’s nowhere left to hide, and the weight of your secrets presses harder, threatening to escape the moment you open your mouth. It almost did with Lena, so you desperately need to leave.

You knock lightly on Alex and Kelly’s door, hoping not to wake Esmé. It’s late, but Alex answers quickly, slipping out into the hall and shutting the door quietly behind her. She gives you a concerned once-over, her expression softening in that big-sister way.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers. “Lena said you two hung out before dinner, but then you didn’t show up—”

“I’m going back to National City.” You say it quickly, barely letting the words settle before you look away, as if that might make it easier. Alex’s eyes shift down to your bag, and she lets out a long, disappointed sigh.

“You can’t keep running forever, you know.”

“No, but I can tonight.” You set your jaw, bracing yourself. Alex is going to try to talk you out of this, and you can’t let her. “I’ll help keep watch over National City with J’onn and M’gann. Say goodbye to Esmé for me.”

“Absolutely not. You want to leave her, you tell her yourself.” She opens the door a fraction, enough for you to glimpse Esmé’s little sneakers by the bed, and you feel something twist painfully in your chest. She knows it’ll be harder for you to look Esmé in the eye, to break your promise of a trip full of fun with her favorite aunt. “Man up.”

“Sexist,” you mutter, half-heartedly, as you step inside. But before you can call for Esmé, you freeze. Kara is sitting on the floor, her gaze sharpening the moment she sees you.

“You’re leaving?” She stands up, arms crossed, and in that moment, she doesn’t look much like your sister—she looks every inch of Supergirl, unyielding. Kelly clears her throat, mumbling something about checking on Esmé before slipping out of the small living room.

“Yeah, I have this… thing.”

“Is this ‘thing’ called a massive crush on Lena that you’re too scared to deal with?” Kara’s voice is quiet but piercing, an eyebrow arching as she studies you, making you feel as transparent as glass. “Or is this ‘thing’ a problem you’ve got with me?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot everything has to be about you.”

Before you can get another word out, she’s right in front of you, moving faster than even you expected.

“It’s becoming about me because you keep dodging me and shutting everyone out,” she says firmly. “You have to stop running, Y/N. Why won't you deal with your problems like an adult?”

“Oh my God! Is there a version of this conversation where you don’t sound like my mother?”

“I don't know. Is there a version where you don’t sound like a moody teenager?” She fires back, voice sharp as a blade.

"Go to hell, Kara," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, knowing full well she’ll catch every word. You try to push past her, but she steps in your way, resolute, daring you to challenge her. Fine. If she wants a fight, you’ll give her one.

“Stop acting so tough,” you say, each word sharp and unyielding. “You’re not Alura. You’re not Eliza. You’re not even my oldest sister.” You pause, just long enough to let it sink in, to make sure she feels the sting. "You don’t get to act like you’re in charge."

Kara flinches, just a fraction, but you catch it. And part of you hates that it hurts her—almost as much as the rest of you wants it to.

A hand catches your arm as you make to leave, and you know it’s Alex without even looking. Her grip isn’t harsh, but it’s inflexible, the quiet authority of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.

“This has gone too far.” she says, her voice low.

“Alex,” you say, a warning lacing your tone. But your sister doesn’t budge. She’s as immovable as Kara in her own way, and you can tell from her stance that she’s done letting this slide.

“No. You tell her now, or I will.” The seriousness in her voice roots you to the spot, and you stare at her in disbelief. “Don’t test me, Y/N. This has gone on too long.”

“Alex,” you plead, the warning fading, replaced by something that feels like betrayal. “I trusted you.”

But Alex’s stance only hardens. She glances at Kara, crossing her arms in front of her chest, each movement deliberate, telling you in no uncertain terms that this is the line she won’t let you cross.

“You want to know what’s going on?” your voice comes out loud, it's almost a yell in the quiet of the night, voice cracking as you throw the question back at them, your fists clenched so tight they’re shaking. “Fine. Let’s do this. You want honesty? Here it is.”

Kara and Alex fall silent, but they’re staring, eyes wide. You can’t tell if they're surprised or concerned, and for once, you don’t care.

“I’m in love with Lena,” you spit out, practically choking on the words. “There it is. Happy? But it doesn’t matter, because she’s yours, Kara. Everyone is. Everyone who matters, everyone I could ever care about, they’re all yours.”

“I don't—” Kara starts, but you’re not finished. Not even close.

“Don’t!” you snap, cutting her off. “You have no idea what it’s like to be around you, day after day, having to act like it doesn’t kill me. Watching you looking at her like… Like I do. And I just—” Your voice wobbles, a tremor of frustration bubbling up with the tears you’re fighting to keep down. “I just get to stand there and smile and play the part of your perfect little sister, like I should just be grateful to even be a part of your story.”

Alex takes a step toward you, hands up, but you move away, barely holding it together, so you don't hurt her. “Do you know how exhausting it is? How much do I dread putting on the suit, being the hero, pretending this is all I ever wanted? Because it’s not. It’s never been. I hate it," your voice comes out so raw, your throat hurts afterwards. "and I can’t even tell anyone that because you’d all look at me like I’d failed you. Both of you would.”

Alex steps back the slightest, her face twisted in a mix of surprise and sadness. Kara looks stricken, her mouth parting like she wants to say something, but you don’t give her the chance. You’re too far gone, the anger pushing past your better judgment.

“You get to be perfect, and I get to be… what? The second-rate version of you? The one who’s not quite as brave, not quite as good?” You only realize you're crying when you taste your own tears. “The one people don't even glance at because they are too busy looking at you — the super girl. And now you want me to watch you with the person I love too? You just get to take everything.”

"That's not true! None of it is—" Kara reaches out, but you take a step back, hands up like it’s a shield. 

“You don't get it! So don’t—just don't.”

Her expression crumples, and for the first time, you see the real hurt reflected back at you. But the ache inside you is too loud, too sharp to ignore. A small part of you feels vindicated, glad that she’s hurting too—at least now you’re not the only one carrying the weight of pain.

You turn away, ready to escape the suffocating atmosphere, but Alex’s voice cuts through the tension, pulling you back.

"Y/N, wait." Alex tries, voice sweet like you didn't even know she could master. "Let's all take a breath and just… talk about it."

"Oh no," You turn to her. "you don't get to do this. I trusted you with this, and you just—” You can’t find the words, the tears breaking free, your voice shaking. "You just chose Kara over me. Like everyone does. So you don't get to ask me for anything." The next words leave from the depths of your core, it shakes the entire room. "NONE OF YOU get to ask me for ANYTHING!" 

Sometimes hours can feel like minutes, and sometimes a single second can last a lifetime.  "I'm done pretending we're one big happy family." This is it. This is that second. The second you burned every bridge, every connection you've had and flew away from it.

[hopleii]

since you admitted it,

content: tsukishima x fem!reader angst, breakup, cheating, fighting, trashy writing, not proofread, kinda ooc, swearing lmk if i missed some!

a/n: inspired by Babe - Taylor Swift!! I keep forgetting i have responsibilities on this account lolzies, anyways, I think this is my first time writing angst? also, i'm working on some requests rn so sorry for the delayyy :(

you and tsukishima have been arguing for what seemed like hours now. yelling at each other back and forth, throat hurting from all the screams and explaining.

"for God's sake, I didn't do shit with her! how many times do I have to say that!?" tsukishima screams. there's this girl that's been making you uncomfortable, she was beautiful. her face so pretty almost as if it was carefully crafted by god himself, her voice so sweet and smooth like honey. you felt insecure.

tsukishima had been getting close with her, which wasn't a problem at first. so what if he was friends with her, right? wrong. eventually, tsukishima had been getting way too close, cancelling plans "because she needs help studying" or "she's not feeling well, I need to be there for her"

you were getting sick. though, you held your tongue. you stayed silent and let it slide, maybe they're just good friends, that's all. is what you kept repeating to yourself.

"why are you so mad that I'm hanging out with her, geez! you have guy friends and you hangout with them all the time, why are you suddenly mad at me and her just because you're insecure? you're always like this when we hangout!" he screams again. this was the first time you ever brought it up, what could he possibly mean by 'always'?

"stop dragging useless shit into this, tsukishima! you're not stupid so stop acting like it! you know that those gestures are more than friendly!" you scream back, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I have NEVER brought this up until now, why are you so defensive, kei?! why are you hiding things from me?"

"I'm not fucking hiding anything, okay!? what do you want me to do? she's my friend! I can't just stop talking to her even if I wanted to!"

bullshit.

"really? you can't?" you say through choked sobs "are you fucking kidding me, kei? you can't? you can't stop holding her waist? you can't stop cancelling plans just to go to her house? you can't stop kissing her when you think i'm not looking? are you kidding me?"

you were shaking with anger, you couldn't find the right words at that moment, you wanted to scream and cry and shout at him but you just couldn't.

"what the hell are you talking about? I can never do anything like that, especially not with her--"

"well now you can because we're over! I can't do this anymore, kei!"

silence fills the room for a few minutes, you clench your fists so hard you were shaking. but what really bothered you the most was the slightly relieved expression on tsukishima's face.

only punctuated by your ragged breaths and the remnants of your tears staining your cheeks. tsukishima's eyes widened, the relief he initially wore began to fade into a mix of shock and regret.

tsukishima's voice, no longer fueled by anger, now shaken with uncertainty. "wait, just, let's not make reckless decisions here. I didn't mean for it to come to this!"

your heart ached as you gazed into his eyes. at that moment, you questioned if you had done the right thing. but you knew that the doubt, insecurity, and pain that had been bottling up in you had pushed you.

trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt, you finally had the strength to confront him. "Kei, you need to tell me the truth. did you do more than just kiss her?" the words hung heavily in the air, and a knot formed in the pit of your stomach.

tsukishima's shoulders slumped even further, and he let out a long, heavy sigh. with a voice that was almost a whisper, he admitted, "yes, I did, but--"

you let out a quivering gasp, covering your mouth with your hands. utterly disgusted with what he just admitted. betrayal surged through your veins, overshadowing the pain that had been lingering. the air became suffocating, and you struggled to comprehend the reality of his admission.

"i'm leaving," your voice shaking as you fought tears that threatened to overflow again "i should've known..."

tsukishima's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet your eyes. "i... i didn't want to hurt you. i was going to tell you eventually...i just couldn't find the right time i--"

a bitter laugh escaped your lips, "you thought hiding the truth would spare my feelings? how could you?"

tsukishima started to get angry again, his ego and pride unable to handle the truth in your words. "fucking hell," he mumbles "i messed up, okay? i never meant for it to get this far. it just...happened."

your anger flared again, and you took a step back, distancing yourself from him. "no, tsukishima, it didn't just happen. you made choices, and you chose to betray me!"

as you turned to leave, his voice trailed after you, desperate and regretful. "i'm sorry, i really am."

but the apology fell on deaf ears. the door closed behind you, leaving tsukishima alone in the haunting silence of the room.

[writerbugg]

Good Luck

Chapter # 4 As Sweet as Sugar Cookies

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (You are here), Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. - Mary Poppins

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

"No," Tim says crossing his arms. "I have homework to catch up on, I can't play Minecraft with you right now."

Y/n frowns, "But Tim," she whines "Everyone else is busy, and I'm booored!" She complained while tugging at his shirt.

The boy rolls his eye at the young girl's antics, "Fine if I play with you, will you leave me alone?" Y/n nodded furiously.

With a tired sigh, Tim leaves his desk, picking up the game chip. "Thirty minutes, max, you got it?"

Y/n laughs happily, running out of his room and down to the lounging room. Tim smiles, a familiar warmth filling his chest.

_

Tim opens his eyes slowly, the early morning sky peeking through the curtains to greet him. A dream, a memory, a mix of both. Tim groans, what a mess this whole situation was.

Slowly, he lifted himself out of bed, checking his phone to see what time it was.

5:34 am

He let out another tired groan, it was too early to be awake. Sadly, he knew falling back asleep would be impossible. Slipping on some sweatpants, Tim makes his way to the kitchen to brew some coffee.

He makes it to the kitchen, tiredly grabbing the coffee grounds from the cabinet, and making his way to the coffee machine.

Tim watches the coffee slide into his mug, the smell of coffee filling the kitchen, before walking back to the cabinet to get some sugar. While he would usually drink his coffee black, he was in the mood for something sweet.

"Can I borrow the sugar when you're done?" A groggy voice asked him.

Tim jumps, swiftly turning around to see who spooked him. Y/n stands behind him with a bowl of Cheerios.

"..."

"..."

Tim sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are you up this early?" Y/n shrugged, "Couldn't sleep." She answered.

Frowning, Tim walks back over to the coffee machine, which has stopped brewing. Y/n watches, frowning at his lack of answering, before following.

He puts two spoons of sugar into his coffee, stirring it thoroughly, then passes Y/n the sugar. She mumbles a quiet thank you, putting a little bit of sugar in her cheerios.

Tim and Y/n sit with each other, quietly enjoying the silent Manor.

──●◎●──

It was early afternoon, and Y/n was sneaking some of the cookies Alfred had made. They were heavenly, light, and sweet, the chocolate rich and smooth.

Jason enters the kitchen, clearing his voice, and catching Y/n's attention. "Looks like I've caught a little thief," Jason smirked, Y/n giving him a wide-eyed look, knowing she was caught red-handed.

"...You can have Dick's portion if you don't tell."

Jason laughs, before nodding, "OK, deal." He walks over to Y/n, taking a cookie and biting into it. "Mmm~ They are as good as I remember." Jason chuckles, "Plus, Dick has enough sweets, I'm sure he won't mind me taking some of his."

"Oh? Really now?"

Y/n and Jason look at each other before turning around slowly facing the eldest Wayne. He had a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.

"You think I've had enough sweets? Can't help but feel like you're implying something, Jaybird."

Y/n makes a break for it, leaving Jason behind. "Wha- You Traitor!!" Jason yells as Y/n makes her getaway.

While running Y/n bumps into Damien, causing both of them to stumble. "What the- why are you running around the mansion? You're supposed to be with Alfred." Damion glares at Y/n, annoyed. She bashfully rubs the back of her head, "I was running from Dick," she admits, "speaking of which, do you know any hiding spots? I think I can hear him coming, he must have finished off Jason." Rest in peace Jason... again.

Damion deadpanned, "Seriously?" He blandly questioned. He grumbled when Y/n nodded, a pleading look in her eyes. Dick has been annoying him recently. So, Damien supposes helping Y/n would be a good way to get back at him. Nodding, he helps Y/n up. "I've got some places for you to hide. Follow me."

──●◎●──

Y/n and Damion hid in a small crawl space behind one of the larger paintings for around twenty minutes.

Sadly, Dick is very set on finding Y/n, so twenty minutes was not enough hiding time.

"I got you Y/n!" Dick picked Y/n up, a squeal escaping her as he spins her around. "I'm going to get you back for eating my cookies," he said playfully while carrying Y/n to the living room. Throwing her onto the couch, then trapping her in a hug.

"Let me go." She whined, trying to get out of his grip. Dick smiles, laughing at Y/n's misery, "No, you ate my cookies. Now you must pay the ultimate price." He cackled evilly.

Y/n frowned, "And here I thought you were a hero who believed in mercy." She said, giving him a betrayed and disappointed look, and making him laugh.

Bruce enters the room with a serious look on his face, instantly killing the mood. He looks at Y/n and Dick, before talking.

"Y/n, Clark is here to visit you."

──●◎●──

@rosecentury

Chapter 5

[sl33paholics]

Hello, You really surprised me with how detailed you wrote about this fandom. This is something really wow.You are the third person I found on this Tumblr. If requests are still open, can I request about Jotaro, Polnareff and Josuke With a fem s/o reader who is very sexy but innocent and cute (like Bimbo) only she doesn't realize that many people like her. Please~ a little bit nsfw maybe ( It's up to you )

Love love from me to you

Keep Your Eyes In A Different Direction

The JoJos x bimbo!fem!reader

Characters include: Jotaro (p3), Polnareff (p3), and Josuke (p4)

Warning(s): slight nsfw (mentions of female body partz)

Josuke Higashikata

Sometimes, Josuke wonders how he ever bagged you.

I mean, look at you! Such a beautiful body, such a perfect ass. And those cheekbones…as if you were birthed to be the next top super-model in history. Those legs, though, are probably the most sinful things he's ever seen. And your skin…whenever touching it, it's smooth like silk.

It's difficult. It's difficult for Josuke to control the looming perverted eyes of his fellow male classmates at school and those drunk old-heads whenever you two are hanging out after school. It's hard not to think about what would happen if he could get you alone somewhere and take off all that gorgeous clothing. If he could lick the gloss from your lips and feel the softness of your skin beneath him. If he could kiss every inch of your body and feel every one of yours shudder with pleasure under his hands.

Josuke knows you have a reputation at school, just like him, so many admirers wanting to be your boyfriend or some other crazy shit like that. You're popular, and that makes you even more desirable. Even more of an object of desire. And yet, they couldn't. They boys know you two are together. A couple. Officially. But still, they can never bring themselves to do anything but stare at you while you walk across campus.

You're such a fucking tease. How dare you smile at every boy who looks at you in such a way? How could you possibly engage in conversation with boys whose obviously making moves on you and mistake it for a friendly interaction, only for Josuke to grab you by the wrist and pull you away. The worst part is that you don't see anything wrong with what the boys are constantly gawking and staring at you like a zoo animal, if he had the balls to do it, he would make-out in front of them to get his message across.

Although you may be a bit on the ditzy side, he still adores you. Josuke would do literally anything for you. Anything at all. Including getting caught up in some dumbass drama with the guys at school, trying to prove they won't get their hands on you, just so Josuke can get your attention.

Jotaro Kujo

You're his EVERYTHING.

After that long journey from Egypt, the man became a whole new person. As if he wasn't already before after being released from jail.

He needs your undivided attention all the time. Jotaro would never show any weakness in front of you or anybody for that matter, but for him to just squeeze you in an embrace when nobody was looking is something very intimate. Jotaro's just not like that with everyone else who can't handle your touch, but with you, he has nothing to hide. And it is so precious to see him open up, tell you everything about himself and everything. It's as if he's been holding it back since the start.

Jotaro wants to squeeze your big ole thighs every time he hugs you. He wants to bury his face in your neck and sighs happily into it. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek lovingly while his other arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer. Jotaro looks at you with a gaze as soft as the clouds. Hence, when returning to school, Jotaro has been more snappy than ever. Don't get it twisted. No one has DARED to ever approach you once it became known to everyone in the building that you and Jotaro were dating before sudden unfortunate events that had him away for days. He noticed that the boys suddenly got an ego boost. Everyone just assumed that the two of you "broke up" now those simps were getting all lovey dovey towards you.

Instead of telling them off, Jotaro was dumbfounded and reasonably upset when you would engage back with the boys with a teasing tone, a tone that you probably didn't know that was feeding into their egos. All it took for Jotaro was to stand behind you and look down at those boys with murderous intent before they would run off, scuttling like frightened rats.

Jotaro isn't too fond of showing PDA but he would definitely squeeze your ass to get how he's feeling about you to anyone point blank clear as day, and to remind you of your place when it comes to him.

It's no secret that Jotaro has a hard time expressing himself. With someone like yourself, you can easily understand that. You both have different personalities, so you might find yourself constantly struggling to make sense of what Jotaro wants. Jotaro's a complex guy, but he loves you anyway. Someone as pure and gorgeous like yourself, he's always going to protect you like his life depends on it.

Jean Pierre-Polnareff

The connection between you two is strong.

Considering the traumatic 50 day trip he had to endure, getting revenge on his sister, and being able to survive, you were like a new breath of fresh air that man even needed.

Both of you are romantic. Sexy. Outstandingly outgoing. As if it was fate that pulled you two together for you guys to meet in his home-country and begin a new relationship.

However, Jean noticed how much in the country of love, you weren't safe. No, there were just too many...unhinged men gawking at you whenever you guys went out. You would always enage back, because why not? You wouldn't want to look rude when someone is talking to you.

This irked Jean too much. Is this what it felt like to be jealous? To have people constantly hit on you? To ignore the fact that your partner is literally RIGHT THERE and still had the nerve to talk crazy? Oh, his poor heart and soul didn't like this venom feeling. Always expect Jean to make a whole scene just to embarass the guy and show him how annoying he really is and disturbing your evening with your precious boyfriend. He'd be talking about it all the way until the two of you get home.

Being intimate behind closed doors or in public doesn't concern this bubbly French man one bit! Jean loves to show you off to anyone and everyone in his presence, but he's very proud that he is the only person who gets to see you as you truly are: a caring, compassionate, beautiful woman. And yes, he'll do that again and again, just for the sake of showing that he loves you.

From the way he'll dress you up all nicely just to slowly and gently ruin you. How you can never tell what is going on in Jean's mind and how hard he works in every aspect of life just to prove to you that he will never treat you badly. That everything will turn out alright, because he is yours forever.

And those kisses that he's so desperate to give, Jean keeps asking you to give him so that he could feel better. Like they're some sort of therapy for his soul or something. The way the two of you would kiss for hours, with nothing else in between. How long it took for you both to calm down from the intensity of the passion and how his lips would always be covered in a layer of lipstick. It was adorable how embarrassed you are by these things. But also very sexy the way both of your stomachs would flutter with butterflies no matter how long the relationship lasted.

[chaiwithmybeloved]

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader.

Description: Hitting (on) a stranger with a shopping cart was not on your grocery list.

Word count: 1k

The lights in this grocery store are too warm for your liking.

Too warm, too dim. You suppose it goes well with the aesthetic of the brand but it's almost fucking impossible to check the fine print on the imported pistachio spread that you've been holding for the last 15 minutes.

You cannot risk buying something so expensive without knowing when it expires. You grimace at the amount of produce in your cart that's going to cost a chunk of your paycheck and put the jar back on the shelf saying a silent goodbye.

Steering the trolley to the front of the store, the angel on your shoulder scolds you for thinking it was good idea to visit a gourmet grocery store.

In your defense, this place wasn't your first choice either. The regular grocery store was 5 miles closer to your place and handed out amazing discounts too, but—

"You're not going to believe who I saw at S-Mart."

"Was it..." Adjusting the phone between your shoulder and ear, your frowned as the layer of purple nail polish smeared on the skin of your toe. "...your biochem crush?"

Your friend sighs, "I wish. It was your ex-situationship, though. Anyways, I hope you've blocked him..."

Her voice fades and the carpet is stained purple.

No. You couldn't risk running into him, even if that's all you've wanted. So, you drive— 20 minutes out of your way— to be as far as possible from the bittersweet memories of the ice cream isle.

You almost hit someone with your cart. Panic sets inside you. What if it's some rich snob who would set their lawyers on you like a pack of dogs? It wasn't your fault the wheels were wobbly!

"I'm so sorry," you bend quickly, to pick up the fruit that had slipped from their hand. As you stand straight, a pair of formal shoes, khaki pants, a half tucked blue shirt and a loose tie meets your eyes.

"It's alright," the smooth voice has you looking up faster than your brain can process. "No harm done." Thin lips, gentle crook of his nose where a pair of spectacles rest, hiding his beautiful brown, maybe a little tired, eyes.

The devil on your shoulder calls you an embarrassment. You hold out your hand and he takes the apple, adding it to his cart. "Thank you."

A number of wooden carts are arranged before you, each containing different colours and varieties of apples; Fuji, Gala, Honey crisp, Kashmir—

Reaching out for the Granny Smith, you're impressed with how big they are. Instinctively, you smell them: sweet yet tart.

You add one to your shopping cart, eager to go home and taste it. The last batch your vendor had brought were pathetic—

"Excuse me, would you mind picking them out for me. I can't tell the good one's apart." The man asks, showing you his selection. Small and weirdly round with red streaks.

"Calville Blanc?"

He nods, "I've read that they have a high amount of Vitamin C."

You try not to fall on your knees. Beautiful and intelligent? Maybe gourmet grocery stores weren't so bad after all.

"They do," you select a few from the paper bag and replace them with better quality ones. "But if you're looking for Vitamin C, citrus fruits are the best."

He doesn't reply. Not for a whole minute. "My son—"

Oh. OH.

The angel slaps her forehead. You wanted to suck off a married man!

He doesn't have a ring. The devil makes a fair point.

"—doesn't like oranges. Or anything orange flavored. I've been trying to get his Vitamin C levels up."

"Does he like lemonade?" You try to maintain a normal conversation. He looks pretty young to have a child.

"Yeah," The stranger nods. "Will that help?"

You nod and hands rest on the handle of your shopping cart, feeling dirty for lusting after a married man. "It would be more pocket friendly than spending...5,499 ¥— shit, that's pricey."

Great, now he thinks you're broke. Clumsy and broke.

The man laughs and you get a warm feeling in your stomach. "That was my first thought too."

Two of you make it to the check out counter, standing behind an older, definitely richer, woman. Her cart is full, to the brim and the cashier looks like they're in pain.

"How old is he?" You ask. The blond falls for the marketing gimmicks, taking a cartoon keychain off the rack.

"Turns six, soon."

"If he's fond of apples, you could buy regular ones and squeeze some lemon juice on them."

The man nods, "Thank you. He's a picky eater but—"

"Every child is."

"Exactly."

You move ahead in the line and the cashier is relieved to see your minimalist cart.

"You should try Golden Plate on 5th street." A shameless self promotion. "They have customisable kids menu."

"That would make things a lot easier. Apparently, he hates everything nutritious," He sighs. A notification on his phone goes off and you get to see a glimpse of a pink haired child, smiling brightly with a floating tube around under his little chubby arms.

"You seem to know a lot about kids," The man clears his throat, unsure how to phrase his words.

"I know a lot about food," you correct him, looking back. "Sometimes I make meals for my colleague's daughter, so I know how to hide the greens."

The word tumbles right out of his mouth. "How—"

The cashier clicks some buttons. "Your total is..."

It physically hurts you to pull out your wallet and hand over the card. A quick swipe and you're being handed your paper bags.

The cool AC air greets you at the exit doors. Should you wait for him? The stranger has an unfairly gorgeous side profile as he unloads the cart items. You almost smile at the heart eyes the cashier gives him.

He doesn't look your way and you walk towards the parking lot.

The sunset looks prettier, the air seems lighter and like some cheesy sitcom lead, you hope that you get to see him again.

(Spoiler: you do.)

[v6quewrlds]

For Tee being his gf that's not his gf gf and you see him with someone (his girl cousin that's basically his bestie) in group settings (his cousin's birthday dinner) and you're 😔 you ghost him so he comes and confronts you about it lol

“Girl, I don't know what to do,” you said into your phone, pacing around your tiny apartment. You couldn't keep the frustration out of your voice. Your friend's sigh echoed through the speaker.

“Bae, you gotta talk to him,” your friend replied, her voice filled with a blend of concern and exasperation. “You can't just ghost Tee like that. He's not gonna get the hint unless you actually tell him what's up.”

You stopped in your tracks, looking down at the photo on your screen. The pretty girl's smile was wide and bright, while Tee's arm was casually slung around her shoulders. It was all so public. So casual. So unlike the private moments you and Tee shared. You knew deep down that you were probably overreacting, but the sting was too real to ignore.

“But what if he's just playing me?” you asked, your voice quivering slightly. “What if he's just keeping me around for the low-key moments and doesn't think I'm good enough for the public?”

Your friend, Serena, sighed again, this time with a hint of understanding. “Look, I know you're feeling insecure, and you guys have been dating for a minute now. But let's be real, he's a public figure. He's got a whole public life outside of what you guys do together. You can't expect him to immediately bring you into his world without being sure that you're ready for everything that comes with it.”

You nodded, though Serena couldn't see it. Your thoughts were racing, trying to figure out how to navigate this uncharted territory. “I guess you're right,” you murmured, your thought cut off with the sound of another incoming call. You checked the screen. It was Tee.

Your heart skipped a beat. You had been dodging his calls and texts for a week now, but with Serena finally talking you down from your hurt, you sent her off, switching over to answer Tee's call.

“Yo, where you been? You ghostin' me or what?” Tee’s voice was gruff, his words cutting through the silence like a knife.

You took a deep breath. “I saw that picture with the girl at that party you couldn't take me to. Who is she?”

Tee's tone immediately shifted to confusion. “Which picture? What party?”

“Don't play dumb with me, Tee. That post on Instagram. You had your arm around some girl, smiling like she's your girlfriend, and I'm just sitting here wondering why you don't take me to any of these events,” you said, your voice rising.

“Hold up. Baby, that's my cousin, Tamara. It was a family reunion, and she's one of my best friends, Check my following list, she got the same last name as me,” Tee tried to explain, his voice calm but firm.

You were at a loss for words as you processed Tee's explanation and request. You searched for a Tamara and felt a mix of relief and embarrassment wash over you. “Your cousin?” you repeated, your voice small.

“I'm downstairs. Can I come up and talk to you?” Tee's voice was steady, cutting through the awkward silence that had enveloped you.

Your pulse was racing, but you knew you couldn't hide forever. You took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, come up.”

The sound of the elevator dinging and the thud of his footsteps grew closer. You took one final look in the mirror, smoothing down your hair and easing the remnants of frustration off your face. The knock on the door was firm, but not aggressive. You took another deep breath and opened it.

Tee's eyes searched yours, looking for any trace of the anger or hurt he knew must be there. He was dressed casually, in sweatpants and a team hoodie, but his presence still managed to fill the space. He stepped inside, and you closed the door behind him.

“So, what's really going on?” Tee asked, his arms crossing as he stood in front of you. He could tell you were hurt, and he wasn't about to let this go without getting to the bottom of it.

You handed him your phone, the Instagram post still up. You watched his expression shift from confusion to realization, his eyes scanning the screen before they met yours again. “You thought… you thought that was my girl?”

Your cheeks warmed, and you nodded. “Well, you don’t ever bring me to these things, and here you are all cozy with someone else. What was I supposed to think?”

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. “You’re supposed to think that you’re the one I want to be with. You’re supposed to trust me when I say I'm going to see my family.”

You felt a knot in your stomach loosen. “But you know how it looks, Tee. You got all these fans and girls throwing themselves at you, and you never bring me around your family. It’s hard not to get in my head about it.”

Tee’s expression softened, and he reached out to cup your cheek gently. “I get that. But you gotta understand, I got to protect what’s mines, especially from all that mess out there. And you are definitely mine, don't even question it.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

“But I’m not your girlfriend, not in public, anyway,” you said, the sadness in your voice palpable.

Tee took a step back, his hand dropping away. He studied you for a moment. “Is that what this is about? You want a title?”

You shrugged, looking away. “I just want to know where I stand, you know? You say I’m yours, but you don’t introduce me to your family, don’t bring me to games, and now this?” You gestured to the phone he returned to your hand.

Tee sighed, running his hand over his short hair. “Look, I know I haven’t been the best at this, but I didn’t want to rush things. My life is a circus, and I just wanted to keep us between us, without the attention messing it up. But if that’s what you need from me, I can make it happen. Just tell me how to fix this.”

Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of insincerity. Finding none, you took a step closer. “I just want to feel like I’m a part of your life, Tee. Like I’m not just some secret you keep hidden away.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his heart heavy with the weight of his own fears. “You are a part of my life. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you wasn’t. I just didn’t want to throw you into something you wasn’t ready for.” His whisper was filled with regret. “The fans can be intense, and I didn’t want to add any extra pressure to what we got going on. But if that’s what you need to feel secure, then we can talk about it. I’ll bring you around more, take you to games, introduce you to the other girls. Whatever it takes.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling his warmth seep into your bones. “Thank you, Tee. I’m sorry for overreacting, but it’s just hard to be on the outside looking in, you know?”

He kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I know, baby. I get it. I been moving too slow, trying to keep us out of the spotlight. But I realize now that maybe I need to let you shine with me.” He pulled back, looking into your eyes. “We good? No more ghosting?”

A small smile played on your lips. “We’re good. But don’t think this lets you off the hook. We still need to talk about all of this, and I want to meet your family, title, and everything.”

Tee grinned, his brilliant smile lighting up the room. “Yes, ma'am.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling back with that bright smile of his. “I gotta get my bag, I'll be right back.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You brought an overnight with you?”

Tee chuckled, digging in his pocket for his keys. “Always be prepared, that’s what my momma taught me. I ain’t seen you in a week, and you thought I was gon’ leave without layin’ pipe? Nah.” You scoffed in disbelief, laughing with a shake of your head as Tee promised he’d be right back up.

[shotmrmiller]

I GASPED

Need the reader to just have a change of heart and keep it for no good reason- stops coming home and instead makes Simon swear not to tell a soul. SHe’s such a good dad- helping her with any and everything. Vows to kill the bastard who did that to his little girl but promises to give his grandSON everything like he did with his daughter.

I can imagine him cracking jokes (that you can’t find funny at all in the state you’re in) about how you made him a DILF and now he’s gonna be a GILF.

Price doesn’t care at first, just shrugs it off. Idk how he’d redeem himself but at the same time you can’t keep his kid a secret forever

no no! i need my happy ending i on god just ruined my own day.

price cares, he's been itching for a baby.

but he can't expose himself as the dad! he's too old, simon will actually slit his throat, it's simply not possible.

so when he hears the news, he sticks his hands in his pockets to hide the way the tremble.

lowers his head, his bucket hat covering the way his eyes glisten with tears of joy.

from his loins, a life shall spring forth.

simon is furious and snarls at you in front of the guys.

"how could you be so stupid?" i'm on birth control, it's not like i got pregnant on purpose. that seems to melt away some of his anger.

"who's the father?" it doesn't matter, he is unavailable. simon grinds his molars so hard you can hear it.

"are you keeping it?" yes. my actions, my consequence— not what is to be my baby.

john's heart soars in his chest. what a blessing you've come to be, and he swears upon himself that he will take care of anything and everything if it's within his capabilities.

when you go back to college, john brings you whatever you want. lozenges for the morning sickness, peptobismol, apple juice, saltines— you name it, it's yours.

you record your checkups and when he hears the fetus' heartbeat for the first time, he goes home and calls a divorce lawyer.

he's officially a single man within a month.

whatever chance he gets, he takes you slow, savoring every moment, caressing the new curves, kissing the swell of your growing belly.

he offers to drive you places instead of letting you use uber or the bus.

"it's not safe for a vulnerable woman such as yourself."

simon questions him once about his unnatural attachment to his daughter, but what john says is nothing but the truth.

"she's your daughter, of course. i'd do anything to keep her safe and sound, especially now that she's growing a baby. i love her as if she was mine."

simon doesn't doubt him again.

it's all smooth sailing, and the baby finally arrives.

the boys visit, bringing teddy bears, balloons and the like. when kyle and johnny coo over the baby, simon bumps shoulders with john.

"now's your chance to come clean, Price."

guess the cat's out the bag, now.

-

unbeknownst to john, simon had seen how john's arm twitched that one time you said, "pass the salt, daddy," during dinner.