#but i asked him simply that if he needs me or wants to tell me something to just call me pr text me directly it can be short n sweet

[greengoblinswifey]

girl we need more fics about inho pls your writing is soooo good 😮‍💨

You Belong With Me— The Front Man/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader

summary— The Front Man grows protective of you and removes you from the game, keeping you safe in his private quarters. A deep emotional connection forms between you and your bond deepens in more ways than one.

warnings— age gap(reader is 20, he’s in his 40s), fingering, oral(m!receiving), praise kink, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— thank you, hope you like this <3

In the dead of night, you woke to the rough grip of two guards hauling you from your bunk. You tried to scream, but a hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. They pulled you down the cold hallways, the walls echoing with the sounds of their pants and your cries. You had no idea what was happening until they stopped before a door you hadn’t seen before. The guards pushed it open, and standing on the other side was Hwang In-ho, the Front Man, the one they had told you they were taking you to. He looked down at you in his mask, unreadable expression, his voice cold and commanding as he spoke.

“You voted out,” he said, his voice steady, “but the majority has decided to stay. You won’t be going back. You’re staying with me now.”

Confusion flooded your senses. You’d voted out to escape the nightmare, but now you were here, in front of him. The air shifted as he noticed your fear, before he spoke again, “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you.”

The guards released their hold on you, but you didn’t move. Fear kept you rooted to the spot. “I don’t understand,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “Why me?”

In-ho’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then his tone shifted, becoming softer but more firm. “Because I won’t let anything happen to you.” He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re too precious to be out there with them.”

You stayed quiet, still unsure of what was happening, but something about his words made your heart race—not from fear, but from the strange pull he had on you. He was being protective, almost possessive, and it made no sense. But you were too tired to fight it, too drained from everything you had already been through.

For the following days, you remained with him. In-ho wouldn’t let you return to the game. You slept in his room, far removed from the others, under his watchful eye. Every time you tried to ask why, he would simply tell you, “You’re safe here. No one will harm you.”

He never let you out of his sight for too long. During the days, he would be nearby, always watching, ensuring you were comfortable. His protectiveness only deepened as you became more and more accustomed to your new life under his care. You didn’t argue, after all, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, even if it unsettled you at the same time.

One evening, as you rested on the bed, In-ho approached you. His mask was off, and his sharp features were illuminated by the dim light. He crouched beside you, his dark eyes scanning your face making your breath hitch.

“You’ did well,” he said, his voice low and almost soothing. His fingers reached up, gently brushing a few curls from your face, tucking them behind your ear. The simple gesture was so intimate. He was so close now, his warmth radiating off him as he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve kept you here because you belong with me, away from them.”

His fingers lingered on your hair, his touch soft but firm. You didn’t pull away. Somehow, his proximity, the way he seemed so protective of you, had a strange pull. “No one will ever touch you again,” he added, possessively. His eyes never left yours, and there was a coldness in his tone that let you know he meant every word.

A part of you wanted to resist, to ask more questions, to demand to be let go. But the way he spoke to you, the way he cared for you, made it hard to find the strength to push him away. He hadn’t hurt you, not like the others. Instead, he had kept you safe.

“I don’t want you to go back,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek, “You’re my sweet little angel. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You looked up at him, not sure how to respond. But with him, the world felt a little less dangerous. The game, the chaos, seemed far away, as if they didn’t matter here, in his presence.

“You’re not going back,” he repeated, his voice firm, yet his gaze softened. “Not while I’m here. You belong with me.”

And in that moment, you understood that there was no escaping this, no going back. You were his now, and he wasn’t going to let you go. You stayed by his side, no longer a part of the game, but under his protection, whether you wanted it or not.

He leaned down, his presence overwhelming as his lips brushed against yours. It was soft at first, a gentle, almost hesitant kiss, like he was testing your response. You felt his body against you, his hands slowly moving to your back, pulling you closer. The touch felt unfamiliar yet comforting, and after everything that had happened, you melted into it, craving the sensation of being cared for, of being wanted.

His lips trailed down to your neck, and you gasped, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin, before finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. A small hum of satisfaction left his lips as he nipped softly at your skin. His hand, still firmly on your back, slid lower, his fingers brushing against your waist before moving gently, teasingly lower and into your panties.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured. “So wet already, just for me.”

You felt his fingers rub gentle circles on your swollen clit, his touch light but electric, making your breath hitch. He paused, as if waiting for your response, his eyes searching yours for permission. “Just let me make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice tender yet firm. “It’s just us here. You can trust me.”

You felt a thick finger slip inside your pussy, the action making you press your lips together so you wouldn’t make a sound. He chuckled then moved back to your neck, licking and nipping as his fingers explored your pussy.

“Your pussy gets wet for strangers, doesn’t it?” he teased.

You whined and hid your face in his neck but he used his free hand to tilt your head to look up at him.

“I’m only teasing angel, and you’re my kind of woman either way,” he murmured.

His finger began thrusting and curling, finding the spongy spot inside you that had you writhing underneath him. He used a thumb to rub circles on your clit, the pleasure unlike any other you had felt. You grabbed his hand, as he increased the pace, feeling something build inside you. Were you really about to cum for him? He slipped another finger inside, curling and thrusting as the sound of your wet pussy filled your ears.

“Cum for me sweetheart, be my good girl,” he said.

You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but there was something in his gaze, something comforting in the way he pleasured you, that made it easy to let go and cum for him. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in that moment, where you could be pleasure and safe all at once.

“F-feels so good,” you finally whispered, your orgasm taking ahold of you.

“I know baby, I know,” he retorted, “I can make you feel even better.”

In that moment you didn’t know what he meant. What you did know was that you wanted to make him feel good too. Return the favor in the only way you could.

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you gently unbuttoned the top he had given you to put on that day, your heart racing. You paused for a moment, looking up at him, feeling a slight hesitation. His voice was calm. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes soft but intense.

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked with his, your breath catching in your throat. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.

Slowly, you let your movements flow as you continued to undress, your fingers trembling slightly, but you felt a rush of anticipation. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl as he took in every detail of your naked body.

You moved closer to him, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly began to unbutton his shirt. The action felt intimate, yet there was something thrilling about it. His breath hitched slightly as your hands moved lower, and you felt the heat of his body against yours as you slowly began to undress him.

“You're incredible,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. As you knelt before him, your gaze remained locked with his, and you felt a surge of confidence. His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “You're so beautiful,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe.

He took off his boxers, his hard cock springing free in front of your face. He was so big and thick, the biggest you’d ever seen. With shaky hands you took ahold of him, slowly stroking as his eyes fluttered shut. You spat on the tip, using your thumb to spread your saliva along with the pre cum that had oozed out.

“That’s it, you’re a fucking natural,” he praised.

With your eyes on his, you slowly wrapped your plump lips around him, taking him into your mouth. You slid your tongue along his girth, suctioning your lips to give him the utmost pleasure. He hit the back of your throat and you let him settle there for a second before sliding your lips back up to the tip.

“Fuck, that’s it, just like that,” he moaned.

You licked the tip, savoring the taste of the salty pre cum before slowly taking him half way. “All the way down,” he growled. You went lower, taking his cock into the back of your throat as his fingers tangled in your curls. You began bobbing your head, breathing through your nose as your eyes teared up. He stared down at you, his lips apart as his breathing grew heavier. You were a sight for sore eyes, curls framing your face, tears brimming your eyes, pre cum and spit dripping down your chin and your mouth full.

“You look so beautiful like this, such a good cocksucker,” he murmured.

At his praises you began bobbing your head faster, sliding your tongue all over his shaft. Each time you went down, the tip slammed against your tonsil and he let out breathy moans that made your pussy throb.

“Fuck angel, I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth,” he groaned.

Your hands went to his heavy balls, massaging them then moving down to take each into your mouth before moving back up to his cock and sliding your lips across the shaft.

“Here it comes, take all my cum in your mouth like a good girl sweetheart,” he said.

You suckled on the tip, stroking the base as you felt the unmistakable feeling of his hot cum shooting in your mouth. You stroked him through it then took him down your throat, swallowing his cum.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he cooed.

He pulled you up, his hands immediately all over your naked body as he kissed you. He flipped you over so that he was on top of you, his dark eyes piercing yours. He leaned down once more, his lips pressed against yours then his tongue slipped inside your mouth. As his tongue sucked on yours, you felt his hard cock press against your pussy.

“Reach down and put my cock inside you,” he panted.

You did as you were told, your bottom lip going between your teeth at the pure intimacy of the moment. You took ahold of his shaft, dragging it up and down your folds as you moaned before pressing it inside your hole. Just the tip of his cock inside made you feel full and you gripped his bicep to ground yourself.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as his cock deepened. “Tell me how good it feels,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You could feel your orgasm building inside you, and though every inch of your body was alive with pleasure, you focused on him.

“It feels so good,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. He moaned softly, his hands gripping your waist tighter, guiding you with each thrust.

His lips trailed over your skin, kissing your neck, his teeth grazing gently as he picked up the pace. “You’re perfect,”’he murmured between kisses, his hands never leaving your body, his touch firm but gentle. “So responsive. I can't get enough of you.”

He kissed you deeply, his lips taking control, his tongue gently exploring as he moved above you. Each thrust brushed against your g spot and sent a shiver down your spine, you responded instinctively, your hands gripping his back as your body arched toward him. The rhythm of his movements was steady but increasingly intense, and every thrust felt more intimate than the last.

“Cum for me,” he urged, his voice husky. “I need you to cum on my cock.”

Your nails dug into his strong arms and he held you close, your pussy soaking his cock as your release washed over you. He kissed your forehead, guiding you through your high as you let out soft whimpers.

As he hovered above you, he whispered softly, “Get on your hands and knees.” His hands brushed your back as you obeyed, fingers lingering as he praised you for how perfect you were, how much he appreciated every moment with you.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his tone dripping with admiration as he watched his cock disappear inside you. “I’ve never felt a pussy like this.”

His hands moved to your hair, fingers tangling in the coils as he pulled you closer, not in a harsh way, but with a sense of possession, as if he were claiming you. Each time his cock disappeared inside your pussy, you couldn't help but moan softly at how deep he was at this angle, the sensation of his cock sending waves of pleasure through you.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. His hands roamed, squeezing your ass, the praise never stopping, and it only made you ache for more. “I can't get enough of you.”

The combination of his words and the feeling of him so close to you made your body tremble, your moan louder this time, unable to contain the pleasure that built up within you. “You feel incredible,” he murmured again, his touch firm, guiding your ass back to meet his thrusts. He watched as your ass bounced against him, you were so sexy. A masterpiece.

You could hear him breathe deeply as he continued, his admiration never wavering. “You’re everything I’ve wanted,” he whispered.

He rolled his hips to meet your ass then leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “Cum with me,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped in the moment and you couldn’t hold back anymore. You creamed all over his cock, feeling a wave of warmth and satisfaction wash over you. Right after, you felt his cum fill your pussy.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice full of adoration as he collapsed on the bed and pulled you close. “You’re perfect,” he said, his hands brushing your curls back from your face, caressing you softly. His touch was possessive, yet kind, as if he wanted to protect you from everything.

“You belong with me,” he whispered.

[vamplvs]

TYPES OF KISSES

characters — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd warnings — lots of fluff, a bit of swearing, and it gets a little suggestive in jason's notes — this is my first time back on tumblr in about a year or two so forgive me for any errors/organizational issues. also for the record i absolutely pictured battinson

BRUCE WAYNE. — trailing kisses

after a gala, bruce is always worn out. it's draining being in front of press and high society—if that's what gotham's equivalent of socialite extravagance can really be called—for hours on end. putting on a pretty smile, dancing around questions regarding the dark shadow looming over gotham's underbelly, and shaking hands with people he couldn't care less about. none of it is remotely interesting, and being trapped there for hours lest he face alfred's wrath is all the more frustrating.

"how was the night, b?" you speak softly as he sulks into your bedroom, his suit jacket long abandoned elsewhere in the manor.

he only hums in response.

"that bad, huh?" you put down your book and got up from the bed, smoothly making your way over to him. as you get closer, you catch the furrow of his brow and the dip of his frown. "c'mon, lets get to bed, yeah?"

"please." it's a quiet reply, low in the back of his throat.

you make quick work of his cufflinks and the buttons of his shirt, and in no time at all, he's in nothing more than a pair of briefs.

"why don't i go with you next time?" you pull him towards the bed, "i mean, i don't mind wrangling the public." in a swift motion, you fall onto the bed.

"i won't ask that of you."

"that's why i'm offering, baby," you smile up at him, motioning for him to lay down next to him. "if it'd ease your nerves, i would be happy to go with you." you press one kiss to his shoulder, then another just above that one until you reach the edge of his jaw.

bruce wraps a warm hand around you, pulling you closer to him, and you simply continue trailing kisses across his jaw, his cheeks, until just before you reach his lips.

"i would do just about anything if it meant making you happy."

"i know," he whispers at you, deep blue eyes staring intently into yours. a careful hand works its way to the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss.

DICK GRAYSON. — silencing kisses

"ugh, he was just so-" you cut yourself off with a groan, scrubbing harder at the dishes in the sink. "i mean, seriously, who on earth does that?"

dick snickers behind you, a bemused smile dancing across his face.

"the nerve of some people! why would that question even cross your-" there's a clattering of dishes as one slipps out of your hand. "god dammit!"

"hey, c'mon," dick's hands are suddenly around your waist, "why don't we take a break?"

you turn to face him now, frustration painted on every plane of your face. "no, i need to finish the dishes, or they'll just sit-"

"we can finish them tomorrow," he says with an easy smile, and it's hard not to listen to his voice of reason when he looks at you that way. it's all soft eyes flitting across your face from your eyes to your lips.

"i know the way we are," you huff, "they'll never get done."

"i promise i'll help you tomorrow." he squeezes your waist reassuringly, pulling you towards him and away from the already doomed dream of finishing the dishes tonight.

"but you said you had to-"

"nope, i'm helping you with dishes now. that's the plan."

"but you're already behind on-"

he cuts you off with a kiss, slow and gentle. "i can worry about that tomorrow."

"you really shouldn't-"

he cuts you off yet again, a cheeky grin spreading on his face. "i can keep doing this all night if you really want me to."

"dick," you groaned, your head falling onto his shoulder. he only wrapped his arms around you tighter.

"i can tell when you're saying my name and when you're not, y'know," mirth lacing his words, and you can't help but crack a smile. "you're always telling me to take care of myself, so let me do that for you just this once, okay?"

JASON TODD. — breathless kisses

the adrenaline of the night is already starting to wear thin as you rounded a corner into a dark alley, jason trailing after you. laughter is in the air, and for the first time in a long time, a patrol feels like something more than a task to complete.

"careful, red, it looks like you're getting slow!" you call back to him, feet pounding across the pavement as you race forward towards the fire escape of the building ahead of you.

"oh, yeah?" he shouts in return, fighting to keep the smile out of his voice—even through the mask. he pushes himself forward, ignoring the burn in his legs from the exertion of the night. within a moment, he's past you, using a grapple to propel himself to the top of the building.

"that's cheating!" you scale the fire escape as quickly as you can, panting by the time you reach the top. jason is already a rooftop over by the time you get there, and it's a good thing you're faster on foot than he is—even if only just.

he simply laughs, continuing his dash to the safe house only a few blocks away. you manage to catch up to him, heart beating out of your chest as you both run in tandem, leaping over gaps between buildings and trying to trip each other up. it's only once you both run down yet another fire escape leading to the window of your shared apartment that jason pulls forward once and for all, a grin under his mask as he hears you groan behind him.

in one swift movement, he slides the window open and slips inside. once you get inside, jason already has his mask off and there's a smug smirk on his face.

"what was that about me getting slow?" his chest is still heaving.

you can't help but laugh. "only because you cheated!"

"no such thing in gotham, baby." he pulls you forward by the arm, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

you smile at him, rolling your eyes and still breathing heavily. jason's eyes flit between yours and your lips for no longer than a moment before he kisses you again.

between light, breathless kisses, his hands find themselves wrapped around your waist, and before you know it he has you both dropping onto the couch. your legs are spread over his lap, and you pull away for just a second, forehead pressed to his.

"as much as i love the whole body armor look, why don't we take all this off, yeah?" you murmur.

"i like the sound of that."

[loucifersbitch]

Fifth of All

Late one night, Tommy receives a text from Howie.

> buck in hospital. might not make it <

And that's the whole message. He doesn't elaborate beyond that or pick up when Tommy calls. So Tommy grabs his jacket and keys and sprints to his truck, hoping it's the same hospital as always.

He flies through the bay doors, not really remembering the drive, but he'll accept any tickets as long as he's here in time.

The nurse behind the desk is on the phone, but when she notices the slightly wild look in Tommy's eyes, she puts the call on hold long enough to direct him to Evan's room.

He tries not to run, but he can't deny that he jogs down one hallway, then the next two, before he comes to a stop outside the closed door.

It hits him then. He could lose Buck. He could lose Evan. Howie had warned him, said he might not make it.

Tommy feels sick.

He raises a fist to knock, but before he makes contact, the door swings open, a burst of noise and laughter hitting Tommy. Howie almost walks right into him before stumbling back, looking perplexed.

"Tommy? What are you doing here? What...?" he trails off.

Tommy looks around the hospital room and sees nearly everyone he hasn't spoken to since the breakup. Maddie's right behind Howie, Hen is in a chair off to one side, and Eddie is next to Bobby on the other. They're all clearly having a fun time, their laughter only fading when they notice Tommy and confusion takes over. It's not the sorrowful mourning Tommy had been expecting.

On the bed, Evan sits with his leg in an air cast, one arm in a sling, and various scrapes and cuts that Tommy can see on his face and arms. He's not exactly near death.

"'Buck in hospital. Might not make it.' Really, Howie?" he asks, staring down at wide, worried eyes.

"'Might not -" Howie scoffs, realization softening his features. "Tommy, I meant I might not make it to the karaoke bar tomorrow night. Gotta take care of the unlucky man-baby in the hospital bed over there."

"I'm not a 'man-baby,' Chim," Evan says, rolling his eyes. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah," Bobby interrupts, "took care of yourself so well that you fell off a ladder today."

"I slipped!"

"You fell on a glass coffee table," Eddie says.

"Where you dislocated your shoulder and sprained your ankle and got a concussion," Hen adds.

"I'm fine," he insists. "Just need someone to drive me home when I'm released, and I can take care of the rest from there."

Tommy doesn't roll his eyes at Evan's petulant tone, but it's a near thing.

"I can help."

Six sets of eyes turn to him.

"We couldn't ask you to do that, Tommy," Maddie says softly.

There's a crinkle between her eyebrows that makes her look like she's trying to solve some puzzle. And in this case, the puzzle is Tommy.

"You're not asking," he answers just as softly. Then he asks everyone, "Can Evan and I talk for a few minutes?"

They all glance at Evan like they're waiting for his permission.

"It's fine, guys. Go get some coffee or something."

They all file out, Tommy standing out of the way as much as he can while everyone pats his shoulder or shakes his hand or — smacks him upside the head.

"I deserve that," he says, rubbing the sting where Hen's hand had connected with his skull.

"And more," she says seriously. "If you break him again, I swear to God I -"

"Okay, let's go," Eddie says, shoving her down the hall and away from striking range of Tommy. "We can save the threats for the next time he screws up. I'll help you take him down," he tells her with a smirk.

Tommy knows it's a joke, but it's also not a joke. He doesn't want to screw this up again either.

He steps into the room, closing the door behind himself. He stands near the foot of the bed, unsure if he'll be welcome any closer. Evan simply stares at him, waiting.

"So first of all, I'm sorry. Let's get that out of the way. And second of all," he takes one step closer, "I'm blocking Howie's number."

Evan snorts, but doesn't say anything. Tommy takes another step.

"Third of all, I'd really like to take care of you while you recover. If you'll let me."

"You don't need to do that."

"I know. I want to."

"I don't want you to do this because you feel obligated or like you owe me or whatever," Evan says, a little sad.

Tommy takes one final step that places him next to Evan's uninjured side.

"I have a lot of vacation time saved up. I'd like to spend it with you," he shrugs.

Evan looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. Instead, he nods, accepting Tommy's help.

"Fourth of all, I want you to stay at my house." He holds up a hand before Evan can protest. "You don't need to be worrying about stairs or trying to sleep on your couch once the shoulder heals. Plus, my kitchen is better."

"Okay, fine," Evan concedes. "What's fifth of all?"

"Fifth of all," he says, finally sitting in the chair at Evan's bedside, "please don't ever die."

That surprises a laugh out of Evan.

"What? That's not something I can promise."

"Then at least make sure I die first."

"Tommy," Evan says, concerned, "you know I can't promise any of that. What's going on?"

"I -" he clears his throat when his voice breaks, "I lost you once. And I know I owe you an explanation for everything. But today I thought I might lose you for good, and — I can't do it again. I can't take the thought of losing you forever."

"Tommy -"

"I love you."

Evan's mouth snaps shut.

"And I don't expect you to say it back - now or ever - but I need you to know that one more person out there loves you. So please, at least try not to die while I'm still alive, okay?"

It takes a moment for Evan's expression to shift from shock to understanding.

"Okay, I can try."

"Good. That's - that's good. Thanks."

Evan holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers until Tommy laces his own through. He can feel the adrenaline crash hitting him.

"So does this mean you want to try again?" Evan asks.

"If you'll give me another chance, I'd like to try keeping you. And we can call this a trial run for living together. Although I don't want to move too fast for you."

"If anything, I think I moved too fast for you," Evan smiles. "Maybe this time instead of moving at my pace or your pace, we can move at our pace."

"Have I ever told you how much I love the way your brain works?"

Evan squeezes his hand.

"Once or twice I think."

"Is that all? That's not nearly enough."

It's easy to fall back into this thing with Evan. They talk until the 118 crew and Maddie return, and then they all talk some more. Tommy takes his fair share of gentle ribbing, but with Evan's hand in his own, it's not so bad.

The next morning, Tommy gets to take Evan home. They've gone over all of the discharge forms and orders from the doctor, and they pick up two prescriptions from the pharmacy on their way.

As Tommy helps Evan get settled in the recliner, Evan says, "I love you, too, y'know."

Tommy barely falters where he's fluffing the pillow against Evan's back.

"You really are on a lot of painkillers."

"Tommy," Evan says seriously, the hand of his good arm clutching Tommy's wrist before he can pull away, "I love you. I never stopped. I don't know if I ever could."

It's the simplest thing to lean down and press his lips to Evan's. It's less simple to allow himself to accept what Evan said. Not because he doesn't believe Evan means it, but because he doesn't know if he'll ever deserve it.

"What do you want to eat? I think we'll order in, so pick whatever. Thai? Chinese? Sushi? There's that new Ethiopian place two streets over."

"Delivery is so expensive, Tommy."

"I'm on vacation," he shrugs. "And maybe I wanna splurge on some food for you."

"Well, first of all -"

"Don't start."

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ gods and monsters ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x wife!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you cherished your husband, your family, and the life you had created together. hwang in-ho was a man of contradictions, capable of immense love and devotion. he treated you with such care, as though you were the most precious thing in his world. his adoration was tangible in every gesture, every lingering glance. yet beneath that tenderness was a darkness you struggled to reconcile. this same man, who held your hand with precious affection, was also the masked overseer of the squid game, a series of merciless challenges where the desperate competed, often at the cost of their lives, for a staggering cash prize.

˚ ༘♡ you could never truly fathom it. the man who pressed sweet kisses to your forehead at night was the same monster who orchestrated a spectacle of death and suffering. he claimed no pleasure in it, but the mere fact of his involvement unsettled you. the gleaming black mask, the command he held over every horrific detail, it was a world so far removed from the warmth of your home, yet it belonged to him all the same.

˚ ༘♡ only once had he asked if you wished to attend, to see what he called “his other life.” the question had terrified you to your core, your lips parting in silent dismay. you hadn’t needed to answer. the way your expression shifted, the way fright and disapproval glared across your pallid face, was enough. he never brought it up again, never risked shattering the fragile balance he had created between his two identities.

˚ ༘♡ you were a mother to a healthy three-year-old son, who filled your days with laughter and energy, and you were carrying another child, though you had yet to tell your husband. the news remained a quiet secret, one you turned over in your mind during the solitude of the evening. it wasn’t fear of his reaction that kept you silent. hwang in-ho adored his family, there was no question of that, but the thought of bringing another life into the shadow of the games unsettled you.

˚ ༘♡ you tried to focus on being the woman you wanted to be, a loving mother, a supportive partner. in many ways, you succeeded. you tucked your son in every night with whispered stories and soft lullabies, kept your home warm and welcoming, and met your husband’s gaze with as much love as you could muster, even when doubts crept into the corners of your mind.

˚ ༘♡ when your worries became too much to bear, he would sense it, always. he would take your hands in his, his voice calm, his tone measured. “think of me as two men,” he would say, his words a plea for understanding. “there is hwang in-ho, your husband, your partner, the father of our children. and then there is the front man, a role i play, a mask i wear.”

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to believe him, to hold on to the idea that the man who kissed you tenderly each morning could be separate from the one who orchestrated so much pain. but no matter how you tried to comprehend it, there were nights when the thought of who he was beyond your shared walls kept you awake, your heart aching with questions you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

˚ ༘♡ you tried with all your might to separate the two sides of the man you loved, the front man and your husband, hwang in-ho. but when he told you he wouldn’t be able to contact you during this year’s games, the delicate balance you had worked so hard to maintain crumbled. the weight of his words refused to settle, tearing at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to simply let it go.

˚ ༘♡ “every year, you’ve managed to visit after the game for the day. what’s different this time?” you asked, your voice trembling with desperation.

˚ ༘♡ at first, he deflected, his tone dismissive as if your concerns were unwarranted. but as your worry grew, it became impossible for him to ignore. the strain in your expression, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, it was enough to wear him down. even your son had begun to notice, his small hands tugging at your sleeve, his innocent eyes filled with confusion at the tension that filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ with a frustrated sigh, in-ho finally relented. his hand enveloped yours, warm and steady against your trembling fingers. “i will be there this year,” he admitted, his voice hushed and measured. “as a player.”

˚ ༘♡ the words sent a chill through you, and your breath caught in your throat. “what? why?” you asked, your disbelief slicing through the tension.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze locked onto yours. “there is someone returning to the games this year,” he began, his tone careful. “a former player, a winner in fact. he’s likely to cause complications, and… i can’t deny the intrigue of watching him. this year will be different. i’ve decided to stay close by instead of observing from a distance.”

˚ ༘♡ fury and agony surged within you, and your hands shook as you lightly struck his chest, the beating driven by hysteria. “you idiot!” you yelled. “you can’t guarantee you’ll be safe! have you even thought about your family? what about our son?”

˚ ༘♡ he caught your wrist gently, his grip cautious, his face softening as he pulled you closer. “i will not be in danger,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “i promise you that.”

˚ ༘♡ still, his assurance wasn’t enough. it didn’t stop the knot in your stomach from tightening or the ache in your chest from growing far more intense. the words you spoke next tumbled out before you had a chance to think them through. “if that’s true, then you won’t have any problem with me coming along!”

˚ ༘♡ the declaration hung in the air, sharp and sudden. even you were startled by it, your heart pounding in your chest as the misery of your demand settled between you. fear and anger had driven you to say it, but now it was too late to take it back. you searched his face for a reaction, your pulse racing.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t speak such nonsense again," he said firmly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room. "you have our son to think about. i am going, and i’ll return in a week. this is final."

˚ ༘♡ “no!” you shot back, the tremor in your voice betraying your growing panic. “if you’re going, then i’m coming with you. you told me it’s safe.” your eyes darted toward your son, who had long fallen asleep, blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding. a wave of guilt swept over you, tightening your throat. “he can stay with the household staff for a week. do you think i could take care of him properly while i’m sick with worry about you?”

˚ ༘♡ his brow furrowed, the sharp lines of irritation creasing his weary face. “you’re being unreasonable,” he said, his voice hard, though it faltered slightly as he began pacing the room. each step was measured, purposeful, as though he were trying to walk away from the argument itself. “this is dangerous enough without you there complicating things.”

˚ ༘♡ “and you’re being infuriating,” you countered, your tone rising as desperation overtook your earlier composure. “do you think I’d forgive myself if something happened to you while i stayed here and did nothing? you’re asking too much of me.” your voice cracked, the weight of your despair spilling into the room.

˚ ༘♡ the argument carried on into the late hour, a nightmare of clashing scorn and unresolved fears. he tried to dismiss you, to shut you down with reason, but you refused to back down. your agony, raw and untamed, eventually drove you to the brink. “if you go without me, i’ll leave,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’ll take our son, and i’ll leave.”

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was deafening. he froze, his gaze snapping to yours, searching your face for the truth. you hated the lie, the hollowness of your own threat, but it was all you had left. leaving him wasn’t something you could ever do, but the thought of him walking into danger alone was unbearable.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the burden of his dilemma. “fine,” he said at last, his voice clipped and low. “if you’re coming, then there are conditions… rules that have to be carefully followed.”

˚ ༘♡ your relief was immediate but short-lived as his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. “what conditions?” you asked, your voice softer now, cautious.

˚ ༘♡ “we’ll need to use false identities," he explained, his tone deliberate, each word chosen with care. "to everyone involved, we’re strangers. no one can know who we are, not even that we’re connected."

˚ ༘♡ the practicality of his demand sent a shiver down your spine, even as you nodded in agreement. the idea of pretending he was nothing more than a stranger felt unnatural, wrong, but you couldn’t argue. “i understand,” you murmured, though the knot in your stomach tightened with every passing second.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as though considering whether you truly grasped what you were stepping into. when he finally looked away, you felt no sense of victory, only the forthcoming horror of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ the games were set to begin in exactly one week, and each passing day left you feeling more unsettled. every time your husband pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered beneath the surface, making it difficult to fully surrender to his warmth. though you tried to find comfort in his presence, the thought of what lay ahead clouded every shared moment.

˚ ༘♡ you had entrusted your son to the most reliable and loyal members of the household staff, ensuring that he would be cared for in your absence. you also took great care to conceal any sign of your pregnancy. if in-ho discovered the truth, he would never allow you to join him, and staying behind was not an option you could accept.

˚ ༘♡ he had laid out the plan with meticulous precision. the two of you would arrive after the chaos of the first game, red light, green light. as he explained it, a large portion of the participants would undoubtedly be eliminated once they grasped the deadly reality of the games. the aftermath of that horror would provide cover for your entrance, allowing you to integrate without raising suspicion.

˚ ༘♡ your husband would take on the identity of player 001, an unassuming participant with no visible ties to you. your alias would be player 077, your stories carefully crafted to fit the narrative. his fabricated reason for joining the games was both haunting and ironic, he claimed he needed money for his pregnant wife. when he first told you this, a wave of panic washed over you, thinking he might have discovered your secret. but as you studied his expression, his calm demeanor revealed no hint of realization.

˚ ༘♡ for your feigned story, he decided you would play the role of a young woman drowning in debt, struggling to pay off the burdens left behind by your late father. the lie felt strangely fitting, yet it unsettled you all the same. every detail he crafted for your cover seemed so calculated, so detached, it was as though he had rehearsed this for far longer than he let on. this game of life and death was nothing more than a facade for him.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded along as he explained the plan, his voice unwavering. though the words were spoken with care, they failed to soothe the growing tension within you. each step of the plan felt cold, clinical, designed to strip away any sense of the life you shared outside these games. with every passing day, the distance between hwang in-ho, your husband, and the front man became more glaring, and you wondered if you could truly separate the two when it mattered most.

˚ ༘♡ you knelt by your son’s bedside, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. his small hand clung to your finger, and for a vanishing moment, you felt the crushing weight of guilt threaten to undo you. you whispered promises you weren’t sure you could keep, telling him you would be back soon, that everything would be fine. as his breathing slowed in sleep, you lingered a minute longer, memorizing the curve of his face and the delicate skin of his tiny hand before slipping away with your husband.

˚ ༘♡ the player uniforms were a tight, oppressive reminder of the role you had agreed to take on. the white and forest-green fabric felt rough against your skin, the stitched numbers, 001 on him, 077 on you, marking you both as part of this wicked charade. the air between you was dense with unspoken tension as you followed his lead into the heart of the games.

˚ ༘♡ the aftermath of the first game hit you like a physical blow. scarlet-red blood smeared the walls, the metallic stench thick enough to taste. lifeless bodies were being dragged away by masked figures, their uniforms pristine against the carnage. your stomach churned violently, and you had to bite down hard to keep from retching. your husband walked ahead, his pace measured, his face a mask of icy detachment.

˚ ༘♡ yet, even as he feigned indifference, you noticed the subtle tension p his clenched fists and the hard line of his jaw. no matter how disciplined and resolute he was, pretending you were a stranger clearly cost him some of his will power.

˚ ༘♡ you entered the massive dormitory, a cavernous space where the remaining players huddled in groups, their expressions etched with terror and disbelief. the room was alive with murmurs, frantic whispers of confusion and distress as they tried to process what had happened. the realization of the deadly nature of the games hung over the crowd, suffocating and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ abruptly, a piercing voice broke through the calamity, commanding and filled with urgency. all eyes turned to player 456, a man whose presence seemed to dominate the room. his words were bold, calling for a vote in accordance with the consent clause, a chance for the players to decide whether they would continue or abandon the games. the idea rippled through the crowd, igniting faint glimmers of hope in some and deepening the despair in others.

˚ ༘♡ your husband moved slightly, a subtle shift in his stance catching your attention. his gaze flicked toward you, so brief it was almost imperceptible. then, with deliberate movements, he traced a small circle on the back of his hand, an action so precise it disturbed you. he turned away before you could react, his focus now on the masked enforcers who were setting up the voting station.

˚ ༘♡ it took you a moment to understand the message. he wanted you to vote in favor of continuing the games. the realization landed suddenly. you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to steady yourself. the thought of condemning the remaining players to more death and suffering was unbearable, but you understood what his silent gesture meant. if the games ended now, everything he had planned, every risk he had taken, would amount to nothing.

˚ ༘♡ the apprehension caused your chest to tighten further as the masked figures prepared the voting station, their movements mechanical and precise. the voices of the players rose, some pleading for an end, others arguing to stay. you felt your pulse quicken, the enormity of what you were about to do pressing down on you as you prepared to cast a vote that would decide not only the fate of the players but the course of your husband’s dangerous mission.

a/n: the winner of the fanfiction vote, but i will definitely be writing for cho sang-woo as well! i hope you all enjoy reading! let me know if you have anymore requests! 🤍

[captain-huggy-bear]

In Your Element

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Quinn finally gets an opportunity to each lunch with you at your school, but he arrives a little early and sees a different side to you, when you're absolutely in your element.

Notes: This was a request which I very much enjoyed writing, so thank you:

'For Quinn x teacher reader you could do Quinn going to eat lunch with her at school and getting there early on accident and just admiring her teaching and her getting along with her students and then getting home and just telling her how much he admires her and loves her and wants to marry her'

Not me researching Canadian school grades and ages because it is not the same in the UK (Grade 11 is age 16-17, where as year 11 in the UK is age 15-16 and also the final year of secondary for us)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Most days Quinn doesn't get a chance to go and visit you at work and he'd never had the opportunity to sit and eat lunch with you during the school day. After all, you were busy and so was he. You had maybe 40 minutes in a day to sit down and eat, then if he subtracted the time in that 40 minutes you needed to tidy your room, put books out for your next class, write the title on the board, sort your powerpoint out and then pee, plus dealing with any dramas your students brought to your door? Well, you probably had 10 minutes to eat...and he, well, how often was he actually available at that specific time of day? It was like ships in the night sometimes, both having highly busy careers in different ways, but you made it work. Partly by taking any moments that you could find and utilising them, both of you had to learn to be a bit more spontaneous and flexible.

Something that was easier said sometimes than done, but your desire to see each other had a way of making bending easier than breaking. It helped that you'd moved in with him before the season started, so at least he saw you at night and in the early hours of the morning.

Today was different, an odd day where the stars had seemingly aligned. Quinn had a free 2 hours in his day just at the right time for lunch with you and you had a free period after lunch which meant you didn't have to spend all your lunch break sorting stuff out for your next lesson. So, you'd agreed to tell the office he'd be visiting and he agreed to bring your favourite sandwich from your favourite deli along with other goodies for you to snack on.

The problem was Quinn hadn't expected to be 20 minutes early, Vancouver traffic being almost non-existent (which was a rarity) and the deli having absolutely no one inside despite it being lunch time (he briefly considered that the zombie apocalypse might have happened at that point). Being 20 minutes early meant he didn't really have anything to do. At first he assumed he'd have to simply wait in the office, but Maria on reception just gave him his visitors badge and walked him to your classroom, ushering him away from the uncomfortable visitors seats.

Your door is shut to keep the noise of the corridor out of your classroom. From the small window in the door Quinn can see the way your 11th graders sit in various states of focus, you're leant against your desk at the front, hands moving as you talk to them. There's something about how relaxed you are at the front of the classroom, the way you seem to be in your element that hits him. He's never seen you teach a lesson before and it strikes him that it seems right, like it's where you're supposed to be.

Maria knocks on the door and he watches as you pause, telling your students something before setting a timer on the board. Watching for a second to make sure they were all on task before walking to the door and reaching for the handle, your face a picture of surprise at seeing him here early.

"Mr Hughes is here to see you, I thought he could sit in the back or help you with the last little bit of lesson."

"Thank you, Maria I'm sure we'll figure it out." You smile warmly at Maria and it strikes him that you probably know all about her, that you've probably spent time with her at the staff Christmas party and eaten lunch together. It hits him that there are people you see every day that he has no idea about because your worlds simply don't cross that often. You know his team mates but does he really know your colleagues? He suddenly feels very out of place.

"You are early." You give him a look that makes him smile sheepishly at you, raising the bag of sandwiches as if that would solve the problem. Still you let him into your classroom, your students narrowing their eyes at the new face before promptly widening at who just walked into their classroom. Still they don't say anything, like you've taught them better, heads down as they continue writing an answer to the question on the board. A timer ticking down the remaining couple of minutes left.

He drops the bag onto your desk before you point to a spare seat at the back, "You can watch if you want...sorry, it might be boring."

"I don't think anything you could do would be boring." He knows the way he's looking at you is probably a little much for a classroom, he can't help it though. You're so pretty in your teacher clothes, there's a different sort of confidence rolling off you, you own the room and it's attractive, the way you command the room even when you're not overtly doing anything.

A quiet little murmur runs through the class at his statement, a few raised eyebrows and David lets out a little 'ohhhh' that you hush with a sharp look. Even that is hot, the fact a single look from you has a teenage boy shutting up, Quinn's rarely seen you like this, in complete and total control, effortlessly. In your pairing you're usually the one who follows while he leads. He orders your drink at a coffee shop or initiates a kiss, this is a different you.

"Go to your seat, Mr Hughes." The raised eyebrow does it for him as well and he thinks if he had to actually respond he'd have stuttered, instead he choses to follow your directions, trying desperately not to look utterly devoted to you in front of a bunch of teenagers.

He forgot how uncomfortable classroom chairs were, still he uses it as a chance to watch from the back corner. You wander the room, green pen in hand for the remaining time on the timer, writing notes on students' work and giving direction here and there. A few times you give warnings to students who haven't worked hard enough, but there's a general sense that this group of students work for you because they respect you. Even the kids who clearly aren't the most academic seem to try for you.

The timer is blaring when it goes off, some sort of lute sound that you clearly picked because it was mildly medieval and fit the vibe of your history classroom. It's ridiculous but it also describes you perfectly, those elements of quirkiness and fun that fit in even into a classroom where students write paragraphs and complete work. Like you have a balance perfectly set.

"Right, times up, so put your pens down..." You march to the front in quick time, nabbing a flashlight that one of your students was playing with at the front before they could even protest, slipping it into your pocket. It's impressive, the way you seem to have eyes on every corner of the classroom, the way you notice things that Quinn definitely would not have.

The student in question puts his hand up in the air and you call on him as if it was expected, "Yes, Rory?"

"Can I have it back at the end?"

"Yes, Rory, you can have it back at the end." It's interesting, the way that that is enough. That Rory seems to respect that it shouldn't have been out, doesn't try to argue that you shouldn't have taken it, but trusts that he'll get it back enough not to press they issue. Quinn's pretty sure Miller has argued with him more over lesser things before.

"Who can explain to me then how war has had an impact on medical development? Bonus points, potentially getting the bonus point duck for the rest of lesson, if you can give me concrete examples from our unit." He's close to putting his hand up to ask about the bonus point duck when you reach into your desk drawer and pull out a rubber duck dressed as Henry VIII.

It's in that moment that Quinn realises he does not know as much about you as he thought. He knew you. He knew the woman he called his girlfriend who couldn't sleep with her feet outside of the bed covers and absolutely had to have the shower on the highest heat setting, but he didn't know teacher you. Never in his life had you mentioned a bonus point duck, never would he have predicted that that was something you even had in your classroom and it's utterly ridiculous and shouldn't motivate a bunch of teenagers at all and yet, suddenly there were 20 hands in the air, a few calling out as if that would make you pick them quicker.

He watches the way you smile, the scan of your eyes over each, the way you bypass those not meeting your expectations until they correct themselves and then you pick a student that Quinn would likely not have picked, a student he knows his history teacher in school would have avoided.

When he thinks of picking a student to answer there are two modes he thinks of from his own high school career:

The one without their hand up, who doesn't look like their listening, the one a teacher wants to catch out

The student who is clearly a nerd, clearly good at the subject and will clearly given an impressive answer, the easy kid to pick

You pick neither. Instead, you go straight to a girl with her hand up but with thick blonde hair extensions in and enough gum in her mouth that Quinn can hear it smack from here. The stereotypical popular girl who probably doesn't care much about school and would rather be at the mall.

"Angel?"

"Well, it's like when there's a war on like World War One then all the government care about is winning the war, right?"

You nod in encouragement and it hits him that you picked Angel for a reason. That you picked a student who likely doesn't like school, likely gets discouraged but who you know can answer and get a confidence boost. It's smart, he does something similar with rookies, where he gives them a chance to do something so he can boost their confidence, can build a relationship with them. Suddenly captaincy and teaching seem awfully similar, minus the gum and the smell of Lynx Africa.

"So like if they don't improve medicine then all their soldiers just die, right? Either outright or later because of like infection like why they funded Florey and Chain to mass produce penicillin in World War Two or like why people were so into the leg splint thing in 1916. So, the governments put more money into medicine because that means soldiers live longer and can get sent back to war and then they can win the war because they still have men alive, but like if they all die you're going to lose the war, duh."

"Beautiful answer and a few specific examples in there, you have earned the duck," You smile widely at her as you walk to plop the rubber duck on her desk and he can see it, the way she seems to puff up in pride, the way a student who maybe would have hated History is engaged because of you.

He's pretty sure he just fell a little bit more in love with you.

"Yo, Miss?"

You sigh a deep sigh as if this interruption is expected, stopping mid walk back to the front of your classroom and turning on your heel, "Yes, David?" Your voice is mildly amused, not impatient or frustrated like Quinn would expect.

"Why ducks?" There's a beat of silence and Quinn watches the way you just stare at David, eyebrows high on your forehead like your considering whether you'll actually treat the question seriously or not.

Then a big smile crosses your lips like you're laughing at yourself before you even say the punch line to a joke. A silly little smile that is so his girlfriend that suddenly both versions of yourself seem to merge together.

"Because ducks fly together."

"C'mon, Miss! Really? Did you seriously just quote the Mighty Ducks when a hockey legend is in the room?" It's your patience with David that smacks Quinn in the face. You could have given him a detention by now or told him off for disrupting your lesson, but you're not. Like you're confident you can bring it back to the lesson soon enough. It makes him wonder if you'd be that patient with your kids, if he's seeing a little glimpse into a possible future where you're this patient with the kids you have with him.

"Well, maybe we should ask the 'hockey legend' what he thinks of my jokes? Mr Hughes?" You ask him because you know he'll back you up, and it's that sense of being needed that makes him sit up a little straighter in the chair he's in and smile widely like he's scored a goal.

"Hilarious as always, although maybe you need a bonus point orca?"

"Oh, do I? The duck not good enough?" There's a little glint in your eye, the one you always get when you're teasing him, playful. It feels like the rest of the world disappears, falls away, like you're the only two people in the room.

"Seems a little too Anaheim like for my taste,"

"You would say that, no taste." As if you're a Anaheim fan when you are in fact a Canucks fan through and through, but you know the statement will get a little rise out of Quinn. You can see the way his brow twitches at the suggestion that you'd pick the Ducks over the Canucks, the sense of male pride being slighted.

"Miss, stop flirting with Quinn Hughes!" It's David, it's always David. David with a wide grin that shows off his braces, David who's waggling his eyebrows at you, typical teenage boy behaviour really but it stumps you. Quinn can see that it stumps you.

There's a beat of silence, like your brain is trying to process what's just happened, and for the first time you're off your game, flustered, a little taken aback like you didn't expect it to go this far. But, then, Quinn was never in your classroom while you taught, never there for you to banter with in front of students. Quinn had proven to be a distraction, a disruptive presence if you will.

Your choice of tactic is perhaps not the best nor the most smooth, but simply to turn back to your powerpoint plastered on the board and pretend that it simply hadn't happened. To move on.

"Anyway, back to medicine," Your voice is a little unsteady, a little less controlled and Quinn feels slightly bad that he put you off your game, but admires the way you push forward.

You turn the slide on your powerpoint, an old cartoon springing up on the board, "I'm going to give you a copy of this source from 1847 about anaesthetic and I want you to analyse it like we've been practicing. If you can do this properly in 8 minutes then I will let you ask Mr Hughes some questions..." You pause briefly, looking directly at David, "Appropriate questions."

There's a bubble of excitement that sees students volunteering to help you hand out glues and copies of the source before all heads hit the desks, hands moving ferociously across the paper while 8 minutes ticks down on the clock. Just like that you've got them back on track and it is utterly impressive, how you managed to completely save a lesson that he'd accidently ruined for you.

You both survive the few minutes of questions at the end, David only asking a few minorly inappropriate ones which Quinn fields with his usual tactic of say nothing and refuse to answer. By the end he's not entirely sure how you handle being questioned all day by hundreds of teenagers and Quinn's a lot more sympathetic to your reluctance to make decisions when you get home after a long day of teaching. He gets it now.

"Have a good lunch, everybody!" You wave the last of your students off at the door, shutting it the moment they're all out and letting out a massive sigh of relief, shoulders slumping.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired." The unspoken is there. That your job is hardwork, that getting kids in the modern age to focus on anything for more than 60 seconds might look easier to the outsider but takes more brainpower and more routines and techniques than you can shake a stick at.

Quinn decides to leave it for the moment, you probably don't want to spend your entire lunch break talking about teaching and he's ultimately here to see his baby, not talk about education.

"Sit, I got your favourite," He's guiding you gently, hands on your shoulders to your comfy desk chair, the one he hasn't seen you sit down in at all. You let him force you to sit down, let him sort out your sandwich placing it in front of you with a napkin and your favourite packet of crisps with your favourite drink to boot. It's a little thing but the way he sets it out in front of you, the way he takes care of you helps ease a little bit of the strain of the day.

"Thank you for coming and having lunch with me," You reach for half of your sandwich, exactly as you like it down to the type of bread used, watching as Quinn pulls one of the desks closer to you so he's not so far away. His own sandwich being pulled from the brown paper bag.

"You don't have to thank me. I wanted to see my girl, who's looking extra pretty today by the way." You almost choke on the first bite of your sandwich, cheeks warming even as you cough and roll your eyes at him. Feeling decidedly unattractive after nearly choking on bread.

"You are such a suck up!"

"Oh, so I can't compliment my girlfriend now? That's sucking up? I'm just stating facts. The sky is blue, water is clear and my girlfriend is gorgeous."

"Quinn!" You laugh at him and it's the most beautiful thing he's seen all day. The way your face lights up, eyes crinkling as you twist your head away from him because of how ridiculous you think he's being. When you laugh he can't help it, it makes him grin, teeth on show, sandwich half forgotten in front of him.

"And she can't take a compliment to save her life."

The two of you fall into a comfortable sort of routine, taking bites of your lunches while interspersing eating with conversation about his upcoming roadie and what you're going to send to your mum for her birthday.

He doesn't say anything about your teaching, doesn't even bring up the bonus point duck because he doesn't want to take up your few precious non-teacher minutes with it...and also because he's pretty certain 40 minutes is not enough time for all the things he's thinking.

How does one condense down how much they admire their partner? How does he talk briefly about how utterly amazing you are at your job and how he can't wait to marry you, to have kids with you, to see you be just as patient, just as amazing with them? He can't, so he decides to leave it til later.

He doesn't just eat lunch with you before he leaves the school though, Quinn, ever determined to make your life easier helps you tidy up your classroom and fix a display board that you couldn't reach the top corner of. You can't help but admire him as he stretches up up to staple a bit of border roll back in place, the muscles of his back flexing underneath his t-shirt, the way his hair falls effortlessly across his forehead. It's weird seeing him in this environment, your environment but you can't help but think that he fits in it, like it suits him to be helping in a classroom. Maybe in a different life he'd have been a teacher or maybe you were just waxing poetic in your head.

You walk him out to his car once your done, even though you should be using this time to plan, you can't help but try to get as many moments with him as possible, any little bit of time precious.

"I'll see you at home later?" You ask just in case he'd planned something with the team, fingers twined with Quinn's as you stand by his car.

"Yeah, I should be home already when you get in, figured i'd cook dinner tonight." He wants to make it nice for you, special, because he knows you're going to shy away from his compliments, his admiration...but he feels like he has a lot to say. Good stuff, but a lot and he wants you in a good mood, more receptive.

"Mmm, anything good?"

"Your favourite." You think about the spicy noodle dish he's perfected cooking, the little spring onions on top, the warming broth and it makes you feel almost hungry despite having just eaten lunch.

"And what did I do to deserve this treatment?" You tug him closer by the hands, tilting your head back to look up at him with a sweet smile that makes his heart race just a little bit faster. You're so pretty without even trying.

"Just being yourself, baby." Quinn breaches the distance between the two of you, leaning down to close the remaining space, lips pressing to yours gently, once, twice, a third time because he can't help himself, "Have a good rest of your day and I'll see you later, sweetheart"

Quinn presses one more kiss to your lips, a longer one that lingers, a force behind it that almost takes you off guard, your hands reaching up to grip at the edges of his jacket.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, just long enough for Quinn to notice and smirk about it, to find it cute that he can still make you react like that.

"Bye, I love you." You force yourself to pull away, watching as he steps into the car.

"I love you too." You watch Quinn's car roll out of the school car park, wave back at him when he turns to look at you from the driver's seat before he's completely gone, before heading back instead to finish off your day.

The rest of your day goes relatively smoothly bar the incident in which a student decided to swallow a battery he had in his backpack to see what would happen, resulting in him being taken to hospital and your last class of the day being unable to focus on anything but that. Still as days go it was relatively stress free and made ten times better when you walked into the apartment to the smell of Quinn's world famous spicy noodles and the way he'd set up the dining table with some candles just to make things sweeter. The lights in the apartment dim and romantic feeling.

He's stirring the dish when you get to the kitchen area, back to you, but head turned at the sound of your feet padding towards him. You don't hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek into the centre of his back. Quinn leans back into you with a hum.

"You've really gone all out, huh?" You mumble it into his shirt, moving with him as he takes the pan off the heat and carries it towards the two bowls already laid out on the side. Shuffling alongside him determined to stay close to his warmth despite how inconvenient it was.

"Wanted to surprise you, now get off me and sit your cute ass down." You do as your told, jumping a little at the light swat Quinn gives to your arse as you move away from him. You turn to glare at him as if you're offended even though you both know you'd let him slap your arse whenever he wanted if he just asked.

Quinn serves you first, placing your bowl in front of you with a glass of your favourite thing to drink at dinner before grabbing his own noodles and sitting across from you.

At first it's quiet, the two of you more focused on eating than talking, but every now and then you look up to see Quinn staring at you as if he has something he wants to say. You choose not to rush him, both of you finishing your dinner before you insist that you put the dishes in the dishwasher since he cooked. Still he doesn't say anything and you don't push him.

It's not until he drags you to the couch, pulling you to curl up next to him while some movie plays in the background that he finally speaks his mind.

"You were amazing today..." You're tucked under Quinn's arm, his hand resting on your arm as you press your cheek into his shoulder, soft eyes looking up at him from under your lashes.

"Mm? What at work?"

"Yeah." You let him think for a minute, knowing he has more to say but clearly trying to figure out how he goes about saying it, his fingers tracing light circles on your arm. "I've never seen you like that...so in your element..."

There's a pause in which he shifts, pulling your legs over his lap, other hand gripping your calf. It's the most natural movement in the world, a touch neither of you even think twice about. "The kids love you. You got kids who probably hate school to willing write paragraphs for you and...you're so, so confident in that room, baby..."

"I'm just doing my job..." You hide your face in his shirt for moment, feeling that familiar bashfulness come to the surface. You've never been good at accepting compliments, even from Quinn, and now is no exception even as his words fill you with a giddy kind of happiness.

"I know but...the way you just knew you had it, even when someone was off topic, you knew you could get it back on track, that was so fucking attractive and even the silly things, like the duck!" Your head shoots up so fast at the mention of the duck that you almost knock his chin with the top of your head, the look you give him is nothing short of confused.

"The duck is attractive?"

"Not the duck exactly, but the fact that you wanted to make History fun but also still make sure they're actually learning...and, and it was so you, y'now? So silly but endearing and...I don't know..." Quinn looks away from you, red flush high on his cheeks as he starts to regret ever saying anything, feeling mildly embarrassed about how into you he is. Which he knows is ridiculous because he should be into his girlfriend.

"You don't know? Sounds like you do, you're just embarrassed about how much you love me." You tease him, hand cupping his cheek to get him to face you again, even when he's embarrassed he can't help but lean into your touch a little more, cheek pressed fully into your palm.

"I do love you...watching you teach was like seeing our future."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought..." There's that hesitancy again, flush bright on his skin, lip being bitten between his teeth. It's like he's worried he'll mess up if he speaks his mind, which is ridiculous because you love him so much you're not sure anything he could say would change that.

"You can't put me off, Quinn, if you're worried about saying the wrong thing...i'm too in deep to be put off, so, you thought?"

You wait, oh so patient, while he assesses you, judges whether you're telling the truth. Like he needs to double check that you're correct when you say you're in too deep.

"I was just thinking about how you're so patient with your students and how patient you'll be with our kids, y'know?"

"Our kids?" There's a giddy little sensation of butterflies flipping in your stomach, eyes widening in delight at the mention because how many relationships have you had where your exes refused to even consider children, where they didn't want that with you?

"Well, yeah, I'm going to marry you one day." It's so matter of fact as if he'd just said he was going shopping tomorrow or had a game on Saturday. A statement of objective truth as if there was no other option, no other outcome.

"Oh, you are?"

"If you let me. If you don't? I'm never going to marry anyone." You pull back from him, just enough to look at him, mouth slightly dropped open. He's dead serious, lips pursed, brows furrowed.

"Quinn."

"I mean it. I love you, you're so fucking amazing and I...seeing you in your element today made me realise how impossible it would be for me to fall in love with anyone else, to marry anyone else, to have a family with anyone else. I don't want anyone but you."

You let out a shaky breath, smile watery but pleased, full of love and affection.

"I...I guess it's a good thing then that I want to marry you one day. Can't have you dying alone, that would be sad." You're trying to lighten the mood, but the truth is you're so deeply touched, so in love with him that you hope he means it. If he breaks up with you, you're certain it'll break you for good because you were certain he was it for you too.

"Just to be clear this isn't a proposal, you're getting a proper proposal and it will be a surprise."

"You think you're sneaky enough to keep it secret?" Your arms wrap around his neck as the two of you shift, fingers playing with the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

"I think if I want something enough, i'll get it." Quinn's voice lowers in that way that has you raising your brows, cheeks warming as smirks down at you, green eyes peering at you from underneath unfairly long lashes.

"Oh?"

"Oh." You lean back against the couch, lowering yourself flat as Quinn crawls his way over you, arms bracketing your head on the couch beneath you. You reach a hand up to cup his jaw, scruff rough against your palm, the air around you feels charged.

He's the first to move, wasting little time before lowering his lips to yours. A soft press that deepens as your arms drag him closer, fingers curling in his hair tight. You're working on instinct when Quinn's tongue swipes across your bottom lip begging for entry, opening up for him as your legs wrap around his hips.

In that moment you are so very glad that you're never going to have to know what life is like without Quinn Hughes. That you'll always get to revel in the way he presses his whole weight onto you, the way his breath wavers when he pulls back just to catch his breath before diving back into you.

Maybe you're just lucky or maybe fate intervened, but you are so fucking glad you met Quinn Hughes and so fucking glad that he decided a random History teacher was more than enough for him for the rest of his life.

[nerdygirlramblings]

omegaverse 141

a/n part of this once again inspired by @dragonnarrative-writes and their comment on a previous chapter. also, if you have ideas for a title, that'd be great 😂

cw: a/b/o dynamics and typical omegaverse breeding (m! and f! omegas can get pregnant) mentioned

previous

In the interim between your meeting with Captain Price and dinner with the task force you call your family pack. You know your moms and dad will give you their honest opinions, and right now you want that more than anything.

"Hey pretty girl," Dad says when he picks up the video call. "Everything okay? You usually don't call on a weekday unless we've planned it." For a moment you simply take in his smile and the way he's trying to reassure you.

You deflect. "How are you feeling, Dad?" He's carrying another litter, and after losing the last two, you know how important it is to everyone that this one is successful.

"Your moms have pretty much put me on bed rest," he says, rolling his eyes. "But you called us, honey, what's going on?"

You sigh. This is what you called them for. "Well, I wanted your opinion on something," you tell him.

"Just my opinion, or do you want the moms' too?"

You tell him you want everyone's opinion, so he moves through your childhood home to where your moms are, each room he passes drawing forth another bittersweet memory that has you missing him and your pack even more.

He finds your moms in your childhood bedroom, being transformed into a nursery, again. He sits on the rocking chair you remember, the one that floated between the three kids' bedrooms each time there was a new litter. Once your moms are standing behind Dad, you tell everyone about the offer to join Price's task force, and by extension his pack.

The more you tell them, the more your mind snags on how appealing being part of a pack is. But you can't help but be scared of the implications of that desire. Despite how Price laid things out, it's going to be hard enough to prove you're worthy of being on the 141, and if you become part of their pack, you'll never escape the talk about sleeping your way on the task force.

Your parents can tell your mind is somewhere else when you hear Mum insert your name into Bowie's "Space Oddity."

"Sorry, Mum. Wha' was i'?"

"I was just saying this - the task force, I mean - sounds like a great career opportunity. But I can't abide how much more danger this puts you in."

Mama adds, "Sounds like this alpha knew how to broach this. Didn't cock it up. And I agree with Mum, this is much more dangerous than what yer doing now. But sweetie, ya didn't see yerself when ya talked about what this would mean ta ya. And what doors it might open for other omegas like your brother."

You tear up. Both your moms see this for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity it is. You notice no one's mentioned the other half of Price's offer. "Dad?" you prompt, "Wha' da you think?"

Dad watches you for a few minutes, smiling but sad: you can see it in his eyes. "I think you need to say yes, honey. Even if it scares us more, i's the right thing fer you." Your moms don't chime in; they don't need to. But you need want their thoughts on becoming a pack omega, Dad's in particular.

"And the other part?" you ask quietly, looking away.

"Honey, becoming pack omega fer yor moms was one of the hardest and easiest decisions I ever made. I love yer moms," you watch their faces through his declaration, both putting a comforting hand somewhere on him, "and they gave me all of you pups. If Price is as good an alpha as he is a Captain, if 'e's a guiding hand for his pack, then you couldn't have a better mate. In the end, trust your omega."

And that's the crux of the matter isn't it. Your omega has been scratching at your hind brain all afternoon because she wants to take Price up on both offers as soon as possible, but you need to be smart about optics and your career.

You tell your parents you love them and thank them for their honesty, promising to tell them what you decide before the ink dries. You end the call with a few minutes to spare before dinner and take that time to pull your emotions together.

next

[aesthetically-dying101]

Strictly unprofessional

A/N: the very requested part two to Strictly Professional. Thank you all for the enthousiasm, it was very kind of you all (both on ao3 nd tumblr), so hooray! also look i added a dni banner (im so proud of myself), made by @mikeykuns

Warnings: smut. like this is all smut (exept the ending) but yeah, unprotected sex (wrap ur shit up), cunnilingus, p in v, fingering, female reader, nanami is a sex god apparently, don't ask me abt positions, i don't even know

The door clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The air inside felt heavier, charged with something unspeakable. You could hear the soft drip of water from Nanami’s damp hair, see the way his chest rose and fell with measured breaths.

And God help you, that towel.

It was criminal.

It sat so low on his hips that it was barely hanging on. You forced your gaze upward, fixing on his face—his unreadable, devastatingly gorgeous face.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You tucked your arms around yourself, suddenly self-conscious in the oversized shirt and shorts you’d thrown on.

“You didn’t,” he replied simply, his voice steady. But the way his eyes moved—tracing the line of your throat, lingering on the curve of your shoulders—told a different story.

You hesitated, the words you’d rehearsed in your head earlier slipping away.

“I just…” You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. About you.”

His expression shifted—barely, but enough to make your stomach flip. A flicker of surprise, quickly swallowed by something darker. He stepped closer, his brows furrowing.

You blinked up at him, almost expecting him to make a move- to do anything.

Something in him snapped. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. The moment his lips met yours, the world tilted. His kiss was everything at once—soft and rough, controlled and desperate. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

Your hands found his shoulders, his skin slick and warm under your touch. You pressed closer, wanting more—needing more. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the feel of his body against yours sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

��Kento,” you whispered against his lips, your voice barely audible.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name, his grip tightening. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Yes?” he asked softly.

He smelled like soap and something distinctly him. Heat radiated off his body, wrapping around you like a second skin.

“You’ve been in my head all night. And I—” you admitted, your voice trembling. You broke off, biting your lip.

He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you thought he might step back, ask you to finish your sentence, put that impenetrable wall between you. But then—

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he said, his voice low and strained.

You blinked, stunned. “I—what?”

Before you could process, his hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His touch was firm but impossibly gentle, like he was holding something precious.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours. “Do you?”

Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Something in him snapped. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. The moment his lips met yours, the world tilted. His kiss was everything at once—soft and rough, controlled and desperate. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

Your hands found his shoulders, his skin slick and warm under your touch. You pressed closer, wanting more—needing more. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the feel of his body against yours sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“Kento,” you whispered against his lips, your voice barely audible.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name, his grip tightening. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he repeated, his voice raw.

“Show me,” you murmured, your hands sliding down his chest.

Something dark flickered in his eyes, but instead of answering, he scooped you up effortlessly-fuck he was as strong as he looked, his arm sliding under your thighs. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down carefully, his eyes never leaving yours.

He knelt over you, his broad shoulders blocking out everything else. For a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze heavy and intense, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, almost reverently.

Your cheeks flushed, but before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, stealing the words from your mouth. His hands roamed over your body, sliding under your shirt to find your bare skin. His touch was firm, deliberate, leaving trails of fire wherever he went.

You arched into him, your hands finding his towel. It took a moment to undo the knot, your fingers trembling, but when the fabric fell away, your breath caught. He was perfect. Every line of him, every inch, was made to drive you insane.

You reached for him, pulling him down to you, and he groaned as your bodies pressed together. His hips rolled against yours, and the friction sent a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with restraint.

For a second, your breath hitched. He was so close, his body crowding yours like he wanted to shield you from the world, to claim you and keep you all to himself. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, his heat seeping into your skin, and you realized you couldn’t think straight.

Also you kinda wanted to bite his perfect skin-

“Y-you,” you stammered, your hands clinging to his shoulders. “I want you, Kento. All of you.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as if your words had snapped the last tether of his control. Nanami shifted above you, and for the first time, you took him in without interruption. The faint golden light from the bedside lamp played across his damp skin, highlighting every cut of muscle, every curve of strength that was somehow impossibly elegant. His body looked sculpted, as if he’d stepped straight out of some classical masterpiece.

Unfairly pretty, you thought, your breath catching in your throat. A perfect, living rendition of the David—but warmer, more alive, and infinitely more captivating.

He was all-consuming, and it was almost too much.

“Kento,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your hands roamed over his chest, marveling at the smooth expanse of his skin, the hard lines of muscle under your fingertips. He felt real and unreal all at once, and the way his body moved as he leaned down made your head spin.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw. His tone was teasing, but there was a vulnerability there too, a quiet uncertainty that made your chest ache.

“Can you blame me?” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.

He huffed a soft laugh, but it broke into a groan as your nails dragged lightly down his chest, over the defined ridges of his abdomen.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, his voice rough, like he was trying to hold himself together.

You shook your head, biting back a grin. “I think you’re the dangerous one.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world stopped. There was something raw in his gaze, something that burned hotter than anything you’d ever known. He dipped his head, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was hungrier this time, less restrained. His tongue slid against yours, coaxing you open, and you moaned softly into his mouth.

His fingers splayed across your ribcage, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast in a way that made your breath hitch. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes heavy with want.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and almost reverent.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation, your hands gripping his hips to pull him closer. “Please, Kento.”

That was all he needed. In one smooth motion, he tugged your shirt over your head, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He leaned down, his lips trailing over your collarbone, his hands skimming your sides as he kissed his way lower. Every touch, every movement, felt deliberate, like he was memorizing you.

When his mouth closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching off the bed. His tongue swirled in slow, torturous circles, his teeth grazing just enough to make your thighs clench around his hips. He shifted, his knee pressing between your legs, and the pressure sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Tell me,” you said, your voice trembling.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I can’t think straight when I’m around you,” he admitted, his voice rough with desire. “You drive me insane—in the best possible way.”

Before you could respond, his hands hooked into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down in one smooth motion. His eyes darkened further as he took in the sight of you, his lips parting slightly like he was trying to catch his breath.

“Perfect,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. His hands slid up your thighs, spreading them just enough to settle between them. His touch was firm but reverent, like he was handling something precious.

And then his fingers found you, tracing the slick heat between your legs. You gasped, your hips jerking instinctively, but he held you steady, his touch achingly gentle.

“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your head tipping back against the pillow. “Only for you.”

His groan was low and guttural, and before you could process, he was leaning down, his mouth trailing kisses along your inner thigh. The anticipation was unbearable, your entire body alight with need.

“Kento,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He hummed softly against your skin, his lips brushing just above where you needed him most.

“Patience,” he murmured, though his voice was as strained as yours.

But when his mouth finally found you, the world shattered.

The first stroke of his tongue had your back arching off the bed, a sharp gasp tumbling from your lips. Nanami groaned against you, the vibrations sending another wave of heat coursing through your body. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he licked into you with slow, deliberate precision.

Damn him and his precision.

“Kento,” you whimpered, your fingers tightening in his damp hair. You couldn’t think—could barely breathe. Every movement of his tongue was devastating, every flick and swirl drawing you closer to the edge.

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his chin glistening, his expression nothing short of worshipful.

“You taste incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

Your cheeks burned, but before you could respond, he was back on you, his lips closing around your clit. The suction was gentle but relentless, his tongue moving in maddening circles that had you writhing beneath him.

“Please,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth.

“Please what?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. His breath was hot against your skin, and the way his hands squeezed your thighs made you shiver.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice breaking.

His groan was low and guttural, and he didn’t stop—if anything, he doubled down, his movements growing more insistent. His tongue flicked against you with precision, and when he slid a finger inside you, your entire body tensed, the sensation almost too much to bear.

“You’re so tight,” he murmured, his voice thick with wonder. He added another finger, his pace slow and deliberate as he worked you open. “You feel incredible.”

Your head tipped back, a string of incoherent sounds spilling from your lips. You were so close, your body coiling tighter with every thrust of his fingers, every stroke of his tongue.

“Kento, I—” Your voice broke, your body trembling as the tension reached its peak.

“Let go,” he murmured against your skin, his tone both commanding and tender. “I’ve got you.”

And that was all it took. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body arching off the bed as pleasure surged through you. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked you through it, his movements slowing but never stopping.

When the waves finally subsided, you collapsed back onto the mattress, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Nanami pressed a soft kiss to your thigh before moving back up your body, his hands bracketing your waist as he hovered over you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his brow furrowing with concern.

You nodded, a shaky laugh escaping you. “More than okay.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, and he leaned down to kiss you, slow and tender. You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimacy of it making your cheeks flush.

But then you felt him against you—hot, hard, and insistent—and the heat in your belly reignited. You shifted your hips, pressing up against him, and he groaned softly, his restraint visibly fraying.

Not so composed now? You thought.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands sliding down his back. “I want you, Kento. All of you.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, his jaw tightening as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“I’ll go slow,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

And he did.

He pushed into you inch by inch, his movements careful and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as if he needed to see your every reaction. The stretch was overwhelming, but the way he filled you, the way he held you—it was everything.

The stretch was agonisingly delicious, you could feel every ridge, every vein. It felt like he was rearranging your insides, because Nanami Kento was not a small man. Nowhere in his anatomy was he.

Thankfully, he paused midway, letting you catch your breath, peppering your face with kisses.

Then he moved again.

“God,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel… perfect.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. “So do you,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

The way he filled you, the way he moved—he wasn’t just touching your body; he was touching something deeper, something you hadn’t even known was there.

Maybe that was your cervix- who knows??

"Ke-n-" You gasped, your teeth sinking into his skin, the tip of his cock bullying your insides.

He hissed in response, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I’ve wanted you—so much.”

As the tension built between you, his Olympian control began to slip.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against your lips, his voice strained, his cock moving in and out, and you were pretty sure your brain was loosing track of time and space, because his dick was pressing, each and every time, against your g-spot.

“It’s not,” you said quickly, your hands roaming over his back, tracing the strong lines of muscle beneath your fingertips.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your breaths mingling, the way he looked at you—like you were something fragile and sacred—made your heart thrum wildly in your chest. Add to that the rhythm of his hips snapping to yours, his cock reaching deep inside you, hitting all the right spots, and you were in heaven.

He shifted his weight, pressing you deeper into the mattress, and the feel of him—his warmth, his strength, his unyielding presence—was all-consuming.

Oh wait, he was kissing you again. You let yourself get lost in him, in the way he moved, the way he touched you, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered- because in that moment, you were.

His hands moved to your hips, guiding you as he thrust to meet you, and the two of you moved in sync, a rhythm that was all your own.

And fuck, his cock was making you see stars, every thrust was so fucking good-

"Ah-a, Kento-" You tried to line up the words, to tell him how good he was making you feel, but nothing even made sense.

He groaned in response, his lips finding your throat, kissing and biting as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“So close,” he muttered. “I can feel you… God, I can’t get enough of you.”

His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Oh you were so gonna bruise tomorrow.

Inside and out.

"Ken- fuck I'm close." You gasped out.

"I know sweetheart."

Oh okay.

You groaned, and Nanami let out a broken chuckle, his hips snapping to yours faster, his balls slapping against your ass. He was going faster and faster, the fat head of his cock alternating between your g-spot, your cervix, your g-spot, your cervix....

Then he slipped his hand down to your clit, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing small circles and- oh!

You hiccuped, your back arching, your orgasm came on way too fast, too unpredicted, too soon.

"That's it sweet girl.." Nanami mumbled, but you were milking him, squeezing way too hard. He urgently pulled out, his cock twitching against your stomach, even as your poor cunt was spazzing around nothing, but Nanami was too much of a gentleman to leave her without company.

Naturally he quickly slot two thick fingers in your quivering pussy, with his thumb slowly rubbing your clit, working you through your orgasm.

It took you a second to actually connect your thoughts back together. As you did, he slid his fingers out, covered in your slick, which he quickly popped in his mouth and licked clean, because of course, why waste?

You looked down at yourself, blinking in surprise as you saw that he had came so hard it had squirted halfway up your chest, on your tits and collarbones. You'd only wonder about the physics of that later.

Then your eyes landed on Nanami.

Oh.

Your body was still humming, every nerve alight. Nanami was always composed, always so controlled, but the look on his face now was nothing short of… adoring.

He didn’t look at you like you were just there. No, the way his gaze flickered over every inch of your face, the way his pupils dilated as he admired you—he was looking at you like you were something divine.

A goddess, a force of nature. It was as if you had turned the world upside down, made everything else fade into nothing.

His lips were swollen, still parted, and his hair was a little mussed, a few strands falling across his forehead in that charmingly tousled way.

He was so beautiful, it almost made your heart ache.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly, even though you knew it would only make him more flustered.

"You're... you're incredible," he murmured, his voice hoarse, like he'd just run a marathon, but it was far more intimate than any casual comment.

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered, your fingers lightly brushing the side of his face. His skin was warm, flushed from the exertion, and you could tell he was still shaking, just a little.

But instead of basking in the aftermath of his compliment, Nanami—ever the caretaker—shifted beside you. His breath still coming in shallow bursts, he gently pulled himself upright and reached for the soft tissue box on the nightstand.

He paused, staring at your tits overall chest- where he had came... with a very specific glint in his eyes, oh? He liked what he saw.

Then he moved. You didn’t realize just how dishevelled you both were until he tenderly cleaned you up, his movements soft and careful, as if he feared even the lightest touch would break you apart.

You let him, unable to stop the flutter in your chest. The vulnerability of the moment made you want to combust. The man has just rearranged your guts, and given you two amazing orgasms and now this??

You had always known Nanami as a man of few words, but tonight—tonight he was nothing short of tender, every movement meant more to him than you’d ever truly known.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice still thick with affection. You hadn’t even realized how still you’d become, how lost in his gaze you’d been, until he stood and gently helped you sit up.

You let him guide you to the bathroom, your body feeling a little unsteady, still buzzing from what had just happened. You noticed, as he helped you step into the bathroom, that his hands were steady—careful, protective—but there was a certain gentleness to his touch that sent a strange warmth through your veins.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern, his brow furrowed in that protective way he always had. There was no urgency, no rush. Everything felt slow and intentional. His every movement, every glance, was designed to make you feel safe, cared for.

Is he really this perfect?

Well actually you knew he was. You could see it in the way he took care of you, in the way his eyes softened when they met yours, in the way he treated you like you were something sacred.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice feeling soft and content. “Just a little… dizzy. That’s all.”

Nanami chuckled softly, and you swore it was the sweetest sound in the world-yet you could tell your comment did inflate his ego.. just a little. He wasn’t just taking care of you in the physical sense. He was taking care of your heart, your mind.

When you finished, Nanami made sure you were settled back into bed, his body never leaving yours for more than a few seconds- he slipped into boxers, and gave you the clothes you had arrived in back (your oversized shirt and shorts). He covered you with the blankets, tucking them around you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

You lay there, in the softness of his embrace, his warmth, his care. The space between you seemed impossibly small, yet in that quiet intimacy, it felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you—safe, and wrapped in the afterglow of something beautiful, something real.

And you also felt a tiny bit smug, that you had managed to get this hunk of a man in your bed.

A/N: I hope this satisfies the people that were asking for a part two!! I absolutely had to call nanami a hunk bc uhhhh why not, it a funny word, in french we have a saying: "homme capable" (translates to: "capable man"), which i think defines nanami quite well.

Masterlist.

:)

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

let me chase your demons away | l.howlett

First post of the New Year, hoping to write bigger and better things this year :)

Summary: Logan struggles to sleep... but not when you're around

Warnings: nightmares and panic attacks

Pairings: leaning more towards a fem!reader

Enjoy and please like and comment if you do. Something as simple as an emoji literally makes my day better so please don't hesitate to comment and obviously reblog to share my work.

Requests are also open if there is anything that people want me to write 💛

Logan had struggled with nightmares for as long as he could remember. Up until now, there had never been anything that could prevent the neverending terror loop his brain played on a night. Up until you.

You hadn’t been at the school long, Charles had invited you to come and teach English to some of the younger students, but Logan could tell there was something about you, something about your scent that made him relax. Your sleeping habits were just as messed up as his meaning that, whenever you both found yourself unable to sleep, you would both end up on the couch in the mansion’s living room, watching shitty movies to try and tempt you both to sleep. More often than not, it worked for Logan but little did you know that it wasn’t the mind numbing films or the peaceful silence, it was your company. 

For weeks, Logan would simply allow himself to fall asleep on the sofa beside you and it was the best night’s sleep he would have all week. He would ensure there was a good amount of distance between the two of you, not confident enough that he wouldn’t have a nightmare and go all Wolverine on you. You would wait until he fell asleep and then arrange his legs and neck comfortably on the couch, laying the thick blanket over him and then heading off to bed. 

When you were out on a mission or away from the mansion on a long period of time, Logan would have many nightmares. Nightmares meant a sleep deprived Logan and a sleep deprived Logan meant suffering for everyone else in the mansion. One night in particular, snow was falling heavily when Logan went to sleep and you were out of town, visiting some friends in a nearby village meaning a nightmare was 100% guaranteed. Snow was hard enough for Logan to manage, reminding him of Stryker and the physical and mental toll he went through. 

He woke with a start, his chest heaving and feeling tight, dripping sweat and struggling to concentrate on taking deep breaths. He didn’t know why it occurred to him but for some reason his first instinct was to call you so that’s what he did, not even considering the late hour, knowing that you were more than likely awake. 

In the next village over, your phone buzzing interrupted the conversation you and your friends were having over a bottle of wine. “Who’s calling you at this time?” Your friend, Georgia, asked with a smirk. 

“You got a secret boyfriend, you’re hiding from us?” Faith nudged you with a cheeky grin but you just gave them a half smile, standing and excusing yourself to take the call. 

“Logan? Has something happened?” You asked down the phone, alarmed by the heavy breathing and almost whimpers you could hear. 

“I-I think I’m havin’ a heart attack bub.” He said and you knew from then what was wrong. Since when does the Wolverine have heart attacks?

“Logan, you’re having a panic attack honey. You need to take deep breaths, sit yourself down and stop pacing, okay? Are you sat?” You asked and heard the creak of a bedframe as the man grumbled an affirmative. “Alright, in through your nose and out through your mouth. It’ll pass, Logan, I promise.” 

After a couple of minutes, his breathing began to even out the amount of noise he was making reduced. “I… sorry for interrupting your evenin’.” He ended the call quickly and you were left standing in the hall of your friends house, confused. Why did he call you out of everyone?

~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, upon your return from your friend's house, Logan pulled you aside with a stern look on his face. “What happened the other night, didn't. Understand? Forget it.” 

You look at him, confused and slightly insulted. “What? You think I’m going to tell someone or something? You think I think of you any less because of it?” Your protest seemed to throw Logan off guard and he looked at you with wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape. “I don’t know who you think I am, Logan but that’s not the type of person I am.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

For the next few nights, Logan didn’t go downstairs to sit with you on the couch and watch shitty films, didn’t allow himself to bask in the comfort your company gave him. Instead, he suffered on minimal sleep and caffeine, causing headaches for everyone around him and snapping at every minor inconvenience in his life. 

Eventually, you grew tired of it and grabbed him by his forearm just as he was about to head to bed, dragging him towards the couch. “Everyone’s tired of your shit, Logan. Sit on the damn couch, watch a movie with me and sleep.” You demanded, pushing him to his side of the couch and putting the blanket over him before plopping yourself down at your side, closer than the pair of you would normally sit. Logan resisted for as long as he could but pure exhaustion gave him no other choice than to relax and sleep. His eyes fell shut and within minutes he was asleep, snoring and drool coming from his mouth. However, instead of going off to bed like you normally would, you rested your head against his shoulder and let yourself doze off. 

When the students and teachers of the school began waking up and racing downstairs to fight for the tv, they all fell silent at the sight of the notoriously grumpy Wolverine cuddled up with the cute English teacher, his face pressed into your hair as he spooned you, deep snores emanating for the man. Storm and Jean ushered the children out of the living room, telling them to leave the pair of you to rest for a little while longer while Scott immediately found a camera to take a photo to tease Logan with as soon as he woke up.

Dividers: @coolcatsgraphics

I'm also on A03 :)

[deatheaterv]

lol imagine Snape doesn’t die after nagini attacks him and he wakes up in the hospital and sees you, asks why you are there and you tell him “you dunderhead, I’m in love with you.”

DUNDERHEAD

pairing : severus snape x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : as in the request

severus snape blinked slowly, his mind clouded, the effects of nagini’s venom still lingering in his body. the world felt heavy, and everything seemed muffled. the gentle hum of the hospital wing, the soft rustle of papers, and the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. but then he saw you.

you were sitting beside him, looking as if you’d been there for hours, though you made no move to leave. your hair, a bit wild as always, framed your face, and there was a softness in your gaze that he rarely saw from anyone, let alone someone as powerful and independent as you.

he tried to sit up, but his body protested, and he winced slightly. you noticed immediately, your hand gently resting on his arm to keep him down. “easy there, severus,” you said with a soft smile, though there was a teasing edge to your voice. "you’ve had a bit of a rough time."

snape’s brow furrowed in confusion. his voice was raspy when he spoke. “why are you here?” his usual biting tone was replaced with something quieter, almost vulnerable. “you should be somewhere else.”

you raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a playful grin. “somewhere else? you mean somewhere where i can’t tell you just how much of an idiot you are?” you teased gently. "not happening, professor."

severus blinked, surprised by your lighthearted tone. “don’t call me that,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words. he didn’t know how to respond to you. how to respond to the fact that you weren’t running from him, but sitting there, staying. not out of duty, but because you wanted to.

you leaned forward, brushing some of your hair behind your ear, your gaze never leaving him. “i’m here because,” you paused, your smile softening, “i care about you, severus.”

he stared at you for a long moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he processed your words. you didn’t ask for anything in return. you didn’t need him to say anything. you simply stayed. and that was enough.

“you’re a dunderhead,” you added with a sigh, clearly exasperated, though there was a warmth in your eyes that made his chest tighten. "how could you think i wouldn’t be here?"

snape’s lips twitched into something like a smile, though he quickly suppressed it. “i didn’t ask for you to stay,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it now. instead, there was a quiet longing he didn’t understand.

you rolled your eyes playfully, your hand brushing his as you adjusted your position. “you don’t need to ask. i’m not leaving you to brood in here alone.” you paused, then added softly, “you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

he wasn’t sure what to say, how to respond to you. he had spent so many years building walls, keeping everyone at a distance. but here you were, breaking them down one quiet moment at a time. and for once, he didn’t want to fight it.

“i don’t deserve you,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

you shook your head, smiling as if the idea was absurd. “that’s your biggest mistake, severus,” you said gently. “you do.”

he watched you for a long moment, the room feeling quieter, softer. maybe there was still too much between you two, too much unspoken. but for now, just this. just you.. was enough.

“well,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence with a smile, “since you’re awake, maybe we can stop calling you an idiot and actually talk about something fun.”

snape raised an eyebrow. “fun?”

“you know,” you teased, “like how i’m still planning to beat you at chess next time.”

a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “we’ll see about that,” he said, the flicker of amusement in his voice betraying the walls he’d so carefully built around himself.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, severus snape allowed himself to simply enjoy the quiet warmth of your presence.

[fuctacles]

"You said you weren't dating"

Happy New Year @stevesjockstrap <3 I'm sorry this is late, this is def not what you (or I) had in mind and I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, I will coontinue this soon :')

Also fill for my @fourormore bingo "Didn't know they were dating"

Ships: Corroded Coffin, Steve/Gareth | 2.6k | M | CC living together (AND THEY WERE ROOMMMATES), pre-relationship, Jealousy, Jealous and confused Eddie, confused Steve, some flavor of a/demi-sexuality happening

"Gaaaareeeeeth!"

"Eeeeedieeeeeeeee!"

Jeff sighs. Every day he questions his choice in friends. Did he really have to pick the ones that use echolocation to find each other? It's not like the apartment is that big anyway. 

Eddie jumps off the last few steps with a thud, and not for the first time, he worries one day he's going to break a leg doing so. And how a lead guitarist on a wheelchair will look in a metal band?

"Could you not jump like that?" he asks, knowing full well it will have no impact on Eddie's behaviour. But at least his conscience will be silent. 

"I could, but where's the fun in that?" Eddie grins at him as he passes, trying to pat his head but Jeff ducks out of the way. He just started growing it out. 

"Yeah, walking in a cast will be hella fun too," he mumbles, but gets completely ignored as Eddie has already entered the kitchen. 

"What is it that I'm hearing of you hogging the garage this Thursday?" he asks as soon as he sees Gareth.

His answer is a loud sniffle and a choked voice. 

"What's it to you? I just need it."

Eddie furrows his brows, suddenly worried.

"You okay, man?"

But as he steps closer he can see it's just the loads of onions Gareth's been trying to chop all by himself. He rolls his eyes. 

"Outta the way, nerd," he commands as he hip-checks his friend away from the counter. "Wash your hands and face, I don't want no snot in my food."

Gareth snorts softly, but goes to the sink to do as he was told. 

"You have at least three extra pairs of hands on deck, you should learn how to use them," Eddie half-heartedly scolds him.

"I know, I know," Gareth groans like an exasperated teenager, making Eddie smile. He was the youngest of the group and sometimes fell into that role way too easily.

"So, what do you need the garage for that doesn't involve your band? Working on a solo project already?" Eddie tries prying again. He can already feel the sting of his eyes, but keeps chopping. 

Gareth hums. 

"Yes and no," he says eventually. "It is a solo project, but I'm doing it with another person."

Eddie turns to him, blinking slowly while a singular tear rolls down his cheek. 

"What?"

His friend tears off a paper towel to dab at his face.

"I saw an ad that someone is looking for a musician to help with a personal project. And I answered it," he explains simply. 

Eddie leans away from his touch, his eyes wide in shock. 

"You're inviting a stranger into our metal haven to play their boring personal shit?" 

"Yes," Gareth deadpans. "Well, I haven't met him yet, so I don't know how boring it is. I just thought it would be fun to do something different."

"What's wrong with our thing?" Eddie bristles. 

"Nothing?" Gareth frowns. "I just wanted to try something else?"

"Traitor!" his guitarist slams the knife on the counter. "Betrayer of bands! Of sacred blood brother bond!" he seethes, escaping the kitchen. 

Gareth sighs. 

"You never did the blood pact," he murmurs to himself. He grabs the abandoned knife to drop it into the sink. At least all the onion has been chopped. 

"Hey, Gar?" Doug enters the kitchen with a confused frown. "Why is Eddie crying and telling me you're ditching us for some guy?"

===

It's Thursday and Eddie is seething. Faint sound of drums is coming from the garage, short, sharp, and unprofessional. Why is Gareth wasting his time on this guy? He didn't even come through the front door to properly introduce himself. What a jerk.

"Are you gonna just sit there like that?" Jeff asks him with a raised eyebrow, spotting him as he flies down the stairs. 

"He has to come up here at some point," Eddie roundaboutly answers that 'yes, absolutely'.

"And what then?" Jeff crosses his arms. "You're gonna give him a shovel talk? For paying our drummer for music lessons?"

Eddie's eyes widen.

"He's paying him?" 

"Obviously?" his friend scoffs.

"Gareth's a whore," Eddie gasps in mortified realization. 

Jeff shakes his head with a tired sigh, heading for the door.

"Honestly, you could follow his example, the rent isn't going to pay itself," he says, lacing up his boots.

"I am looking!" Eddie seethes.

"And I," Jeff stands back up and throws on his jacket. "Am off to work. Look harder." He salutes his friend before going out.

Eddie shakes his middle finger at the closed door. But then, he deflates. Jeff is right, he hasn't been very successful in finding a job, but he didn't want to do something that was completely meaningless and sucked the joy out of his soul. Nevertheless, he grabs the freshest issue of the local paper and flips it to the ad section.

At the very least it's a good pass-time for his stake-out mission.

His willing a pen to fly into his hand when the basement door opens to the sound of laughter.

"—all wrapped up in the shower curtain, yelling for me to kill a spider. He—Oh, hi Eddie! This is our lead guitar, Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve."

Eddie gapes at his friend and the stranger in his house. 

Well, not exactly a stranger. Everybody from his year, and his second year, and half of his third year, knew of Steve fucking Harrington. The one and the same now waggling his fingers at him with an awkward smile. 

"Hi," he says like he hasn't been tainting Eddie's drummer with his whole jock thing.

"You're telling him our story," he goes ignored so Eddie can seethe with accusations at his friend. 

"Yeah?" Gareth raises an eyebrow at him. "I have half the rights to it?" he points out. He motions to Steve. "Bathroom is right under the staircase."

"Thanks," Steve skitters away, relieved to be out of eyesight. 

Eddie is ready to tear Gareth a new one about telling a random guy the story he always tells, but he's beaten to it by his friend's furious glare.

"Why are you rude to him?" he grits out quietly so his voice doesn't carry all the way to the bathroom. "He's our guest."

"He's your guest," Eddie corrects. "I didn't invite him."

"Well, he's also paying me to come up with music for his songs, so you could at least not make him leave and find a friendlier place to do so."

Eddie scoffs. 

"And what are these songs about? Boobs and parties?"

Gareth takes a fleeting glance at the bathroom door, before hurrying to the couch to lean over it and get closer to Eddie.

"They are actually so depressing, dude," he whispers. "Like, I'm kind of worried about the guy."

"I'm kind of not believing you," Eddie pulls a skeptical face. 

"Remember the song Jeff wrote after Toffee died? They're all like that."

"Oh shit."

The bathroom doors open and they jump away from each other so they wouldn't look like they were whispering behind his back.

"Hi, uh," Eddie swallows his pride for the time being. "Sorry for being a dick, guess I just don't like when someone steals my favorite drummer." He shrugs with an awkward smile.

Steve, thank gods, laughs good-naturedly. 

"Ah no worries. I promise I'll give him back in perfect condition."

He smiles, but not at Eddie, at Gareth, who gives an awkward chuckle. Eddie looks between them, the interaction blasting alarm bells in his head. 

"Want something to drink?" Gareth ask his paying guest. 

"Oh I'm parched." The infuriating smile, no, a smirk, turns up a notch. 

Suddenly, Eddie loathes the idea of these two being out of public eye for even a second. 

===

"Okay, but like, why a drummer?"

Doug shrugs.

"Because it's a less popular, in demand instrument? It's easy to find a guitar," he pointedly motions to the three of them. 

"But why—"

"Eds!" Jeff interrupts him with annoyance in his voice. "Because Steve offered to pay and Gareth answered the ad? It's quite simple."

Eddie bites his lip. He's running out of reasonable arguments on why he doesn't like that his friend is hanging one on one behind closed doors with a former king of jocks. 

"So you guys are okay with that?" he asks, a bit petulantly. When only silence answers him, he looks around his friends. They're both crossing their arms with a sour expression. He raises his eyebrows. "Well?"

"Not really," admits Doug. 

"Yeah, no," agrees Jeff. 

Doug uncrosses his arms only to cross them the other way.

"I just don't— I'm not angry that he took an extra gig."

"I'm kind of proud, actually," Jeff pipes up. 

"Yeah," Doug nods. "But I don't trust Steve. He gives off this vibe like he's going to snatch Gareth from us at any moment, which is ridiculous," he snorts. "But it's how it feels."

"I can see that, yeah," Eddie nods eagerly, relieved that he's not the only one to feel weird about this thing. "I just don't like how he looks at Gareth, like he's just..."

"Like he's another person to bend to his will."

"Yeah, with this prince charming smile of his!"

"Yeah!" 

"What if he's an evil sorcerer—"

"—a wannabe bard with maxed out Charisma—"

"Oh yeah, yeah, totally—!"

They cut off suddenly when the garage door opens. 

"Hi, guys!"

Eddie squints with distrust at Steve's Prince Charming smile. 

"Hi, Steve."

"Mind if I..." He motions towards the bathroom."

"Not at all, be our guest. Want something to drink?" 

Both Eddie and Jeff glare at Doug after his offer. 

"Oh, if you have some tea, that would be nice." Steve rubs his neck in a very un-jock way. Probably to lower their defenses. "I didn't know singing dries your mouth this much," he chuckles awkwardly. 

"You sing?" Eddie raises his eyebrow in surprise. 

"Well, I'm trying to."

"And he's doing it really good," Gareth picks up, emerging from the basement as well. He pushes Steve gently towards the bathroom, and he goes with a small laugh.

Eddie doesn't like this familiarity between them. When he looks around, the others don't seem thrilled either. 

"Speaking of," Gareth slumps between his friends on the couch, seemingly unaware of the energy in the room. "I'd like him to use his voice properly, but he's hella self conscious you'll hear him, so could you leave for a bit next week?"

His friends gape at him.

"Just an hour," he adds.

"You want us..."

"...to leave our house..."

"...so Harrington can abduct you and steal our gear?"

Everyone turns to look at Eddie.

"Okay, man, I think you're exaggerating, just a little bit."

"I admit he makes me a bit paranoid," he crosses his arms, scrunching his nose in distaste. 

"Guys, don't be assholes," Gareth sighs. "He's a cool guy, I think we even could be friends."

Now everyone's eyes turn to him.

"We are your friends," Jeff points out. He's offended, aghast. Eddie nods vigorously to show he's also offended and aghast. 

"I can't have an extra friend outside of the band?" Gareth crosses his arms, his expression turning stormy. 

"You can," Doug hurries to placate him. "But you know how he's been in high school."

"High school was years ago," he points out. "He's chill now."

The door to the bathroom open and everyone go silent. Steve, caught under their stares, seems to shrink in on himself. 

"I'll wait in the garage," he points to the door before skittering off. 

Gareth turns back to his bandmates, arms falling at his sides with a sigh.

"You don't have to trust him, but you could trust me, at least."

They're silent for a beat, until Jeff sighs and nudges him in the arm. 

"You're right, sorry. We'll give you guys some space."

"For the vocal lessons," Doug adds, like there was anything else they could be talking about. "I'll go make that tea." He stands up to make a tactical escape to the kitchen.

Gareth turns to Eddie, the last one to say anything. 

"Fine!" he throws his hands in the air with a pained expression. "But only because you're using," he makes a vague gesture in Gareth's general direction. "Those eyes of yours."

"Eyes of mine?" his friend seems amused, for better or worse.

"Ugh, you know what I'm talking about!" Eddie stands up and storms off to his room, followed by confused stares.

"He'll come around," Jeff pats Gareth's knee. 

"I fucking hope so."

====

"He said an hour," Eddie points out for the fifth time, while fishing for his set of keys. 

"Pretty much he didn't mean one hour from the moment you leave."

"Yeah, more like an hour of their actual session."

"Well, he didn't specify, so that's on him," Eddie scoffs, before triumphantly pulling out the keys from the pocket he's already searched. 

They open the door and push each other inside to escape the chilly winter air as soon as possible. 

Eddie, being the first to stumble into the foyer slash corridor amalgamation opening into their living room, gasps. Someone else makes a startled sound, Jeff bumps into him, and they almost trip when the full picture in front of them gains clarity. 

Gareth leaning against Steve Harrington, lips bruised from kisses and hair sticking out at weird angles, the other's hand on his hip. He quickly pushes it off and backs away form Steve. 

"Why are you guys back so early?" he bristles at his friends. 

"Apparently to catch you cheating?!" Eddie yells out, scrambling out of his jacket because the sudden spike in anger made him feel like he was boiling from the inside. 

Steve's head snaps towards Gareth. 

"You said you weren't dating."

"We're not!" he groans, tired and exasperated. "Eddie is just being dramatic."

"I'm dramatic?!"

"Yes!"

"I think you should leave, Steve," Doug pipes up, falsely calm. His voice is unsteady, when he speaks, so Jeff sends him a cursory glance to find him just looking sad. Betrayed, even.

"Yeah. Leave, Steve," Eddie picks up happily.

Steve looks to Gareth, and he gives him a nod. 

"I've got this. I'll see you later."

"Okay," Steve gives him a nod and hesitates like he's about to give him a goodbye kiss, but thinks better of it. "See you," he simply says, disappearing into the garage. 

They wait in tense silence until the sound of closing garage doors is followed by the start of an engine outside. 

"What the fuck, Gareth?!" Jeff bursts out.

"Yeah, what the fuck?! Harrington?! Really?!"

"What the fuck you guys!" Gareth bristles back. "I can't even kiss a guy in my own home?!"

"It's our home," Doug corrects him.

"So? Do we have a no-boyfriends policy now?" 

"Boyfriend?" 

They all recoil at the word. Even Gareth seems surprised by using it himself. 

"I mean, he's not, but if he was," he fumbles. "You know what I mean!"

"What do you even need a boyfriend for?!" Eddie bristles, making more than one pair of eyes turn to him with confusion. 

"Sex? Kissing? Dates?" Gareth offers incredulously.

Eddie waves his hands.

"So? We're here! You should have just asked!"

"I should have asked," Gareth repeats at him slowly, so he understands what he has just said. "To have sex with you."

Eddie falters a little bit. 

"Yeah? We're friends, right?" he says, suddenly less sure of himself. "We trust each other. Right?"

"Right," Jeff parrots him, sounding a bit doubtful. "But like..."

"Okay," Doug pipes up suddenly. 

"Huh?" 

They all turn to him now. He shrugs.

"Let's have sex."

tags: @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @wheneverfeasible

[theplumsoldier]

quiet

summary: out of the whole team, eddie is the only one not quite realizing that you are in fact, flirting him him. he knows he likes you, but doesn't quite seem to be able to fathom that you might actually be feeling the same way about him. this is you confronting him

pairing: eddie diaz x f!reader

word count: 2,9k

warnings: stuttering fool!diaz mwahaa, vulgar language, 18+ MDNI; unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), friends to lovers, dirty talk, fingering, the mustache, fire station bathroom fucking, interrupted fucking >.<, pet names

In the past, many dumb decisions had been the aftermath of an emotionally fuelled conversation with your friend Buck. It was his pep talk that convinced you to take your first sip at 14, his supportive words that led you to believe you could make the jump from the roof to the tree without a scratch (you broke a leg), it was his smooth-talking charm that helped you get laid and catch an std, and now you marched into the fire station to confront Eddie Diaz about your feelings. You couldn't help but wonder if that was what this was—a dumb ass decision.

Chimney was the first to notice your presence, calling your name in a greeting. He and Eddie were sitting atop the rig, and the infamous puppy eyes shined down on you. They were geared up, and you cursed under your breath, eyes set on Eddie.

They disembarked the truck, and you breathed out. You always knew he was a damn fine man, but the soft-looking hair and pornstache made you want to pounce on him right there.

"Eddie, can we talk?" you asked, wanting to get straight to business before you lost your courage.

"Yeah, what's up?" he smirked, looping his thumbs through the belt hoops and sauntered over to you.

You cocked your head, eyes scanning your surroundings. "Somewhere a little more private perhaps."

The smirk dropped, and his lips parted slightly, oh. "Uh—yeah, sure."

Eddie led the way to the backrooms, though his pace was hesitant as you reached the hallway, unsure where to go. The tension lingering in the air began to seep through Eddie's skin.

You came to a standstill just outside the bathrooms, and you could see the nervousness in his fidgeting demeanor, the weight of "can we talk" finally hitting him like a truck.

Sighing resignedly, you grabbed onto his forearm, and an awkward chuckle left his lips when you pushed him backward into the bathroom. "Wha-what's going on?"

"I need to know if you want to have sex with me," you said curtly and folded your arms, leaning against the sink, waiting for his answer with an impatient trepidation in your foot.

You might as well have punched the air right out of his lungs. Eddie's eyes widened, brows heaving in surprise, then wrinkling into a knot. His lips twitched, parted, and closed again as his brain worked overtime to figure out how to speak. He couldn't tell whether you were accusing him or simply asking a question. You certainly looked annoyed with him as you stared him down, and truthfully, it scared him a tad.

A dumbfounded stutter sounded, "e-excuse me?"

You sighed and threw out your hands animatedly. "Come on, Eddie! Just tell me—I'm beginning to feel pretty damn stupid. I'm not sure if you think our banter is just this silly little thing, but I haven’t exactly been hiding my flirting with you, and I'm beginning to wonder if you just find the very idea repulsive or if you actually literally wouldn't know until I got down on my knees and slapped your cock in my face."

His breath caught in his throat, the image instantly painted onto the inside of his eyelids. Eddie's cheeks burned red in a matter of seconds, eyes flickering to anywhere but you and his body stiffened as he awkwardly stood in the middle of the bathroom. He tried to find words, but he had no resemblance of a coherent sentence, instead uttering a choppy mix of "uh's" and "I's."

You realized you were putting him on the spot, painting a very vivid picture for him to process, but quite frankly, your anxiety was getting the better of you, and you wanted his raw reaction to leave no room for doubt. You were confronting him, and you were not about to leave without some clarity.

The stutter made you regain some of your boldness, and you pushed yourself off of the sink and sauntered closer to him, raising an eyebrow as the proximity forced him to stop averting your gaze.

You raised an eyebrow at him, and his wetted lips parted slightly, looking oh-so-fucking biteable. "So, Eddie, I need you to tell me if you would like to fuck me."

You didn't miss the way his Adam's apple bounced in his throat or the way his jaw tensed under your scrutinizing look. An awkward chuckle came to his defense. "You make it sound so crude."

You couldn't help the sly smirk pulling on the corner of your mouth, and you tilted your head. "Would you like me to go easy on you then?"

Eddie could hear his pulse thumping in his ears, feel the way his chest tightened as it so often did when he was around you, and see the way your eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips. He felt as if he were in a haze, tipsy on surging emotions, his mind clouded by an uncanny concoction of bewilderment and lust. He stammered, “N-no.”

Of course he was not oblivious to your flirting with him. It was just that he had convinced himself you were playing around, that you were entertaining yourself with him because he did not see himself the way you did. Unbeknownst to Eddie, he had given you the impression that he was feeling the exact way he had been sure you felt with him.

You took his hands and placed them on either side of your hips, gently leading them further down, just enough so that he could feel the flesh of your ass. His chest heaved as he felt how you wanted his hands on you, and for a moment, he felt as if his knees might give out under him.

"Now tell me," you ordered, ghosting your lips over his, needing to pace yourself not to bite out and latch onto him. "Do you want to fuck me, Eddie?"

"Ye-yes," he breathed, doe-eyes transfixed on your tempting lips, brows furrowed as if in pain, the palms of his hands squeezing your hips ever so slightly.

You smirked in triumph, then slipped out of his careful embrace, turned on your heel, and moved to the door. Eddie stuttered, hurriedly tailing you like a cartoon character floating toward a delicious smell, perplexed as he thought you might leave him.

He did not have much time to process what happened as you switched the lock on the door and pivoted back to him, forcibly pulling him into you, bracketing him between yourself and the door when you finally connected your lips to his.

His lips were softer than they looked, the contrast of the rougher sensation of his mustache making you moan into his mouth, nibbling on the plush skin of his bottom lip.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders when Eddie's tongue swept over your lip, seeking entrance to something he only now realized he could have had long ago. The realization made him hold you possessively. You might have him pushed flush against the door, but he took charge and made sure you couldn't leave.

His demanding desire for you made the heat in your stomach spread as the kiss deepened, losing yourselves in one another. One hand steadying yourself against his taut chest and another tugging at his brown locks seemed to melt him right into you. Your hips ground against his on their own accord, and you eagerly pulled at his jacket when you felt the swell of him push back against you.

Eddie was suddenly in a hurry to remove the layers, desperate to feel more of your warmth. You kissed your way down his neck as more skin was revealed, fingers deftly working on the buttons of his uniform while he shimmied off the jacket.

Eddie damn near whimpered your name, his head just about reeling, unsure whether this was reality or another fever dream. You didn't detach your hungry mouth from his throat, only moving to his pulse point, hoping to find another soft spot that might make him repeat your name.

He moaned your name again as you sucked down on the sensitive skin, his hand coming up and clutching a tight fist of your hair. "The... the team is—" he stammered, breathing heavily but was cut off as you elicited another ragged moan from him.

You huffed against his jaw, cradling his cheek to make him look into your eyes for a second. "They know, Eddie," you chuckled, shaking your head. "You are literally the only one who didn't. I'm pretty sure Chim knew exactly what my plan was dragging you away." You continued kissing down his neck, sucking on the newly exposed skin just below his collarbone.

Eddie inhaled sharply, relishing the way you invaded all of his senses. The way your mouth claimed his skin, how you practically radiated unfiltered need, the feeling of your hips seeking friction from his hardening—

"I'm still on duty. If the alarm—" he uttered haltingly, practicalities penetrated the atmosphere you created.

You rolled your eyes, ghosting your puffy lips over his plush ones. "If the alarm goes off, I'll let you off the hook. But until then," you trailed off, loosening his belt. The rustling of the metal clasp and the scraping sound of the zipper snapped something in him.

Before you got the chance to do more than undo the zipper, Eddie clashed his lips back against yours with renewed vigor. He spun you around so that you were pinned against the door instead of him, hungrily licking into your mouth as his palms eagerly learned every dip and curve of your figure.

His hands settled just under your ass and with a little tap, you happily swung your legs around his waist, moaning into his mouth as you felt his bulge exactly where you wanted.

A low grumble sounded from his throat as you tried to grind down on him, craving more of that sweet friction. Eddie hastily moved you to the sink, perching you right on the edge for him to press firmly between your legs. "Can't tell you how often I've thought of having you like this."

You grinned against his lips, hands roaming the hard planes of his chest. "On the sink in the fire station bathroom? Mm—knew you were romantic."

Eddie snorted, shaking his head slightly into the crook of your neck. He ground his hips against yours again, placing open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts, pulling needily at the fabric of your shirt. "Just last night, 'n the day before that. Fuck, when we were at Buck's the other day—couldn't stop myself from fuckin' into my hand the minute I got in the car."

A breathy moan escaped you at the thought of him jerking off as if his life depended on it, and you threaded your fingers through his hair as he lowered himself to his knees. Eddie's calloused hands palmed your thighs, squeezing the flesh as he hitched your skirt higher.

You shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath against your exposed skin, involuntarily bucking forward when his thumb hooked the inner seam of your panty line.

"Joder," Eddie cursed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. His eyes flickered to yours for a beat, silent worship and desire mixed in the brown orbs, and you swore you could come undone from that longing gaze alone. "So fucking pretty for me."

For Eddie. Always for Eddie.

He trailed kisses up your thigh, his mustache tickling the delicate skin making you writhe, but his hands held you firmly, teasingly nuzzling his nose closer to your dripping sex.

In a swift move, he hooked his fingers through the material and tucked your panties to the side, not sparing a second before diving in. Licking the wet juice from your core, he seemed like a starved man, and although you wanted nothing more than to feel him fill you up, you couldn't find it in you to stop him. Not when he got on his knees to eat you out instead of just taking you right there on the sink, not when he moaned into your cunt like this was giving him great release.

"Eddie," you whimpered, letting your head fall back as the pleasure of his tongue consumed you.

He licked a long flat stripe through your folds, gathering your juices as his thumb went to circle your clit. You gasped at the pressure of his rough pad against the bundle of nerves, moaning, clenching around the tip of his greedy tongue.

Your hands clutched at his hair, knees already buckling under your weight from the pleasure coursing your veins, orgasm coming in hot. Ceasing his steady torture to your clit, you whined and opened your eyes to look down when he suddenly slipped two long and thick digits into your cunt, feeling the way you squeezed around him so deliciously as he attached his lips to your clit instead.

Easily gliding into your sex, Eddie was quick to set a consistent pace, pumping his fingers into you slowly but determinately. You muffled your moans and pleas with your hand, but the effort seemed ludicrous as the wet squelches from your dripping cunt echoed off the walls.

"F-fuck, Eddie," you cried, hands gripping the sink for support, knuckles turning white as you writhed against him. "Please—please, Eddie!"

It didn't take long for him to push you over the edge, a combination of sucking harshly on your clit and relentlessly plunging his digits into you and that fucking gaze. You clamped down on his fingers and came hard, chanting his name like a prayer.

While regaining your breath, Eddie stood back up while you came down from your high. His wet lips clashed against yours in a hungry kiss, swiping his tongue into your mouth, and you moaned at the taste of your own release.

"Eds—" you panted as he pressed his clothed groin against you, desperate to feel the bare thickness of his length inside you.

"Tastes so damn sweet, cariño," Eddie muttered against you, his teeth pulling at your bottom lip. You whimpered pathetically, capturing his lips again, the taste intoxicating, as you reached down to free his cock. He chuckled, your heart melting as the feeling of the rumble in his chest. "Easy, easy now. Good things come to those who wait, sweetheart."

You had to roll your eyes at the attitude. "That's only half of the saying—"

His grumble testified to his not appreciating your talking back, but when he swirled you around and bent you over the sink, you saw his hard-set expression through the mirror and knew he didn't mind one bit.

Eddie eating you out had made you forget just how easy you had made it for him to free his cock, so when he sheathed himself to the hilt in your dripping cunt, a loud moan caught in your throat.

"Fuckin' hell, muñeca," Eddie moaned, feeling how nicely you stretched around him. "Feels so good wrapped around me, baby."

He preserved the moment for a bit, one hand keeping a firm grip on your waist and another sliding up your back in a soothing motion. You had dropped your head at the initial stretch, needing a second to accompany his thick girth, but the gentle rub of his hand made you look back into the mirror.

Your glossy eyes, furrowed brows, and flushed expression made Eddie twitch inside you. He flashed a lopsided grin, his hand coming to rest on the side of your neck, squeezing ever so slightly as he slowly pulled back out.

A shaky breath left you, your walls tightening around him on his way out, eyes fluttering shut when he filled you back up. "E-Eddie—"

"I know, baby, I know," he shushed, using his purchase to pull you back so that you were flush against his chest, hand gliding up your throat, resting against your cheek. He strained your neck just enough to lock his eyes with yours, his breath hot against your jaw. "Ya doing so good for me, yeah. Yeah—" he whispered ragged praises and peppered sweet kisses to your skin, keeping you close as he eased into you, bottoming out. "But you need to be quiet for me, hm—can you do that, baby? You gonna be good for me while I take you?"

Eddie's mind suddenly switched to panic mode at his mention of the forbidden word at the firehouse.

Nothing can ever be quiet in the firehouse.

The world stilled for him for a second, feeling your desperate cunt pulsing around him, for him, when the siren went off.

Your eyes widened and he cursed himself.

“No, no, no, Eddie—” You shook your head vigorously and pushed yourself further back on him.

He looked as if in pain when he pulled his weeping cock out, already forcing it back into hiding. He turned you around to face him, wanting nothing more than to replace the pouty face with one of ecstasy again. He kissed you passionately and swept his fingers through your folds, collecting your juices while making you moan into his mouth. “M'so sorry, sweetheart, I'll have to make it up to you later.”

He skipped over to the door, grabbing his jacket off of the floor before yanking the door open, sticking the fingers with your arousal in his mouth, leaving you with a wink and crying cunt.

Buck was jumping onto the engine, pulling the door shut behind Eddie.

"Looking a bit flustered there, Diaz,” Buck teased and Eddie gave him a glare of warning. 

He swallowed hard and shifted as he sat down, cock throbbing in his turnout.

He was not about to tell the crew he was the reason for their shift about to become a hellish one.

[little-miss-fandom-freak]

This isn't a request or anything I just had a funny thought but like, imagine if the Justice League finally got evidence that Y/N is innocent, and they tried to visit but Phosphorus is just. Booing and throwing trash at the League members. Y/N may join in also. Bonding time 🩷

Okay I know I need to be working on my other asks but I LOVE THIS

Dr. Phosphorus X Former Hero!Reader Pt 2.

Little note: I did want this to end on a happier note and I found it hard to be mad at Superman lol

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You didn't understand why Superman and Batman were here in Belle Reve. You had assumed it was for some meeting with Waller until one of the guards approached you and your team.

"C'mon," She said as she lifted your shoulder, "you got visitors."

You looked around, completely confused. "Visitors? Who would be visiting me?" The guard didn't respond as she pulled you away from the table and put your hands in cuffs. He tried to shrug them off, determined to stay with you. You gave him a stern look, one that said 'don't do anything that will get you in trouble'. He sighed as he took a step back, letting the guards take you out to the courtyard.

You were shocked to find out that your former teammates were the visitors. You tried to dig your heels into the concrete, causing the gurads to struggle as they dragged you to them. "I have nothing to say to you two!" You yelled from across the courtyard.

They gave each other a look before Superman took a step forward. "Lose the cuffs, guys. She's won't do anything."

The guards looked to Waller for confirmation. She nodded, giving them permission to take the tight handcuffs off. You rubbed your wrist as the two approached you. "Leave me alone, Superman." You said with spite

"Look..." He started, clearly trying to find the right words to say. "I know there's no taking back everything that's happened these past few years, but I hope you understand why we did it."

"You mean how the whole team left me to rot in a cell, not even showing up for my trials!" You yelled.

"We wanted to, but it wasn't a good time. For any of it. You have to believe us." He pleaded.

"Why should I? It's not like you believed a word I said!" You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm yourself. "I hope you two didn't come all the way out here just to apologize and think I'll forgive you, cause there's no way in hell-"

"The court has decided to give you bail." Batman said, stopping you mid rant.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing right now. "Give me bail? Why?"

"While you were locked up, things changed. New laws were made, old ones were fixed, and your lawyer found new evidence to support your case. If you choose to go to trail and plead not guilty, there's a chance you'll make bail. And I would be happy to pay it, if you promise to return to the Justice League."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Back in the rec room, Phosphorus was standing on top of one of the tables that he had pushed against the wall, trying to get a view of what was going on outside. Nina and Bride had joined him; for Nina it was out of concern, for Bride it was simply because she was bored.

"What are they saying?" He mumbled, his grip on the bars tightening as he tried to listen.

"It has to be something about her case." Said Bride. "With how long she's been in here, and not a single visit before, there must've been a change."

Phosphorus didn't know how to take that. Was there more that you didn't tell him? Were more years added to your sentence? Are you getting transferred? Or worse, did they find you innocent?

The Bride side glanced at Phosphorus, a knowing smirk graced her lips. "You know, you're really bad at pretending you're not the "jealous boyfriend" type."

His head whipped around in her direction, his flames rose but she couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.

"I-I just- you- just-just shut up!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You thought for a moment, you weren't quite sure how to respond. "If I come back, I want a few things."

Batman scoffed. "Do you really think you're in the position to be negotiating?"

"I'll have you know, prison life hasn't been all that bad for me." You said with sass as your crossed your arms. "Once I got over the feeling of betrayal, I actually formed relationships with the inmates."

"Really?" Superman cringed at the thought. "But they're murderers-"

"At least they know loyalty."

"Barely." Batman shot back.

You gritted your teeth. "Task Force M has showed more loyalty to me than any if the Justuce League. I'm am perfectly fine with staying in here, you're the ones who want me back. So, do we have a deal?"

Batman glared at you before he made up his mind. "What do you want?"

You tense shoulders relaxed slightly. "My team, I want to be able to see them while I'm out. Not just visitation hours, I want them out of Belle Reve when I see them."

Superman and Batman looked at each other, before Batman looked to Waller. She shrugged. "Task Force M has been more well behaved than usual. If they can keep it up, I'm sure I can arrange something."

You nodded to Waller, silently thanking her for her cooperation. You turned back to the men in front of you. "Looks like I'm back."

A wide smile filled Suoerman's face. He rushed to you a scooped you up into a hug. "You have no idea how hard it was not to visut you, but we were under so much fire at the time. The governmentthought it would be safer if we temporarilydropped connections. "

You embraced the hug, realizing how much you actually missed your old team. Suddenly, you heard muffled yelling coming from across the courtyard. Looking to your left, you saw Phosphorus yelling something you couldn't hear but Superman could.

"Um, why is the glowing skeleton yelling at me to get my hands off of you?" He asked, clearly concerned.

You chuckled. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Suddenly, several peices of trash came flying your way. Well, not exactly flying. They hit the ground several feet away from the three of you, but the action was enough to make the guards inside tackle your partner.

With a sigh, you removed yourself from the hug. "We should head back in."

As Waller and the guards led you all back inside, Batman came up beside you.

"Phosphorus? Really?"

You smiled slightly as you shrugged. "What can I say, he's got charm."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, it's called radiation. I don't think he's good for you-"

"Don't go all dad-mode on me Bats, we're still the same age remember?"

He scoffed. "And yet you're the one making juvenile dating choices."

"Uh huh, and how's it going with Selena?" You said with a shit-eating grin. He was quiet for a few moments.

"Fair point." He said, causing you to let out a laugh. As much as you hated them, and how long it will be before eyour relationships are repaired, you couldn't deny that you missed moments like this.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I hope you enjoyed this and if you have anything you would like me to personally respond to, message me or put it in my ask box because as of right now, Tumblr won't let me respond to comments :)

[wandixx]

Relationship reveal with side of mind-control (or, really, the other way around)

to that one anon who asked for relationship reveal M'gann/Danny one-shot, here is another take I mentioned

Trigger warnings: mind control ofc

M’gann just needed to get closer. It’ll be alright if she just got a little closer.

“Are you trying to kill us dude?”

Answer was apparently yes as Robin barely jumped out of the way of an ectoblast. M’gann knew true answer was no, she knew Phantom well enough, after long calm nights under starry sky and comfort after breakdowns in the closets and heart-to-heart over battlefields and kisses stolen in the quiet moments of in-between. But for some reason, now he was acting against everything he was and stood for. Red eyes were probably point towards an explanation.

“What even is your beef with us?!” Artemis yelled, shooting one of her special arrows at him.

Right, Team didn’t know Danny. She was going to introduce him soon, when the time was right, gods, she even convinced him to join the Team and was just waiting for Batman’s approval. And now Phantom got worst possible introduction.

M’gann just needed to get close enough to snap him out of it. She could of course just use her psychic powers from where she was but it was a nuclear option. It was better if she handled it the ‘normal way’.

For all he was great fighter, Phantom stood no chance against the whole Team, even when he was in his right mind. As it was, however had in their clutches didn’t know full extent of his abilities and were absolutely pathetic at using what they did know about. Though intangibility made it a bit tricky-

Oh, wait, Kaldur’s water attacks countered it, Danny plain and simple hadn’t had a shadow of the chance.

“Don’t knock him out” she demanded over the Mindlink, right when Kaldur scooped Danny out of the sky, pinning his hands so he couldn’t fight anymore and Conner jumped at the ghost, fuming with anger.

“Don’t lapidate this one M’gann, they are not a robot”

“Excuse me, what?!”

“It was one time Robin, one time. And I know he is not a robot, I can read his thoughts”

“I sooo need to hear this story”

“As you wish Artemis, as you wish”

“Could you all just shut up and focus?!”

“Thank you Superboy”

“So, what’s the plan?” Wally asked while pacing, trying to work off excess energy after battle finished too soon.

“Oh, I’m going to talk to him”

“They tried to burn our heads off, I kinda doubt you can talk them out of anything”

“He is mind-controlled. And he is my friend, I taught him how to fight it. He just needs a little help, it seems”

“Get to it then Miss Martian, he is trying to slip”

She nodded and kicked off to fly, stopping at Danny’s eye level, just slightly breaching his personal space.

“Hey Phantom,” she started softly “I need you so use what I taught you o-?”

“Shut up” Danny’s mouth spat in distinctly not-Danny way.

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Phantom and if you don’t leave I’ll make sure he kicks you out or do it myself” she didn’t bother with niceties, she didn’t bother with putting an inflection in her voice.

Danny’s body snorted.

“I won with psychics stronger than you. I just also know Phantom well enough, he’d prefer to do it himself and he can do it. If you don’t leave now, you’ll learn how much worse is it to be kicked out instead of leaving peacefully”

Slowly, so painfully slowly she reached out to put hand on Danny’s cheek. Touch always helped ground him and there was a chance it would distract whoever controlled him at the moment. Red in his eyes dimmed for a second or five. She smiled gently “Yes, just like that Phantom, you’ve got it. Just how we trained, alright?”

She got a little closer but not enough to lose view of his eyes. She could tell whether he was back in control just by using his powers, even without breaching the boundaries Danny was comfortable with. But she simply wanted to see his whole face and for him to see her whole face, like he did during hours upon hours of their practice.

She could feel his muscles twitching between expressions, as his eyes changed colors like police lights if they were red-green instead of red-blue. M’gann kept steady stream of assurances, slowly brushing thumbs against his cheeks. If situation wasn’t so dire it would probably feel pretty nice. She’d need to bookmark this idea for later.

At last, the whole spectacle ended, with Danny’s eyes turning back to their soft green his face pressing into her hands like it was his only salvation. M’gann grinned enthusiastically barely containing relieved laugh.

“You did it Da- Phantom! You did it!” she yelled before giving him a quick kiss and engulfing him in the hug, despite the water still holding him in place, few feet above the ground “I knew you could do it” she whispered to his ear. Kaldur asked if it was safe to approach so she waved them forward. As soon as Atlantean freed Danny (also getting water out of her cloths, which was nice) she lowered them both to the ground.

Danny’s hands hesitantly reached to hug her back, squeezed like his life depended on it and then he started shaking apart in her arms. She slowly lead him to sit on the ground when it was clear he could hold his own weight at the moment.

“I’m sorry” he whispered, as if he struggled to even make a sound “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

M’gann ignored growing wet patch on her shoulder, clinging to him just as strongly as he did.

“You did so well. There is nothing to be sorry for, you did so well”

“I’m sorry I- You- I should’ve- I’m”

“She is right,” Kaldur stated calmly “You are not to blame for being mind-controlled, especially since you broke it at first give chance”

“But I- I attacked you”

“Comes with the job, really” Robin said with almost imperceptible strain in his voice characteristic to the hand stand.

“I could’ve hurt you”

“Ha! You wish,”Artemis snorted.

“I really don’t”

Everyone snickered lightheartedly and Danny relaxed at clear lack of hostility.

“What about a collateral damage?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere there is no collateral to be damaged”

“This is not what collateral means on it’s own-”

“This is not the point. Phantom, are you looking for things we should hate you for?”

“I have hard time believing you don’t”

“Danny, I love you but you’re an idiot right now. I told you they won’t hate you”

“Superboy still looks like he considers which of my bones he should break first”

“Not yours but whoever’s mind-controlled you. He has a bit of a history with that”

“Exactly”

“Huh. And you could probably do it too if it’s a guy I think it is” Danny whispered with some sort of amazement in his voice “That’s relieving. I’d hat if you hated me. Miss Martian told me a lot about y’all”

“Can’t say the same about you, sorry”

“That’s fine, I asked for it. I’m Phantom, I’m from Amity Park and usually I fight other menaces who try to stir some shit and worry about collateral damage and not the other way around. Pleased to meet you, sorry it happened like this”

“So like… you’re a small town hero, right?”

“Now, that might be a bit over-”

“Definitely a hero,” M’gann interrupted “With personal arch nemesis, regular rogue gallery and all that”

“Miss Martian also called you her friend,” Kaldur said, clearly trying to learn how that happened without outright asking the question, but he would get anything but, judging by Danny’s sudden grin, that could be called sly if he still wasn’t clearly shaken by the whole mind-control ordeal.

“Oh c’mon M. That’s not what you called me last week when we made up in the broom closet”

She loved that boy but she should’ve let Conner knock him out when she still had a chance.

[stxrslutrestored]

OVERWHELMED

pairing; john b x angel reader

summary; you’ve been feeling overwhelmed all week, and it all shows itself when john b comes back from one of his missions

content; fluff

authors note; none

you have been worked to the bone all week, with john b gone on one of his missions, you’ve been all alone. from dealing with work to simply managing the house by yourself, you’re overwhelmed and exhausted. 

that’s why tonight should be relieving, john b is back, you have your first meal together in days, first in person interaction in days. but still, you just can’t shake that overwhelm. 

you don’t want to burden john b with that though, surely he’s just as exhausted as you, if not more, he’s been out searching for gold, fighting villains. 

your mission today is to relax him. not you, you are absolutely fine. 

you’ve pulled out all the stops, you made a meal and made the bed and cleaned the whole chateau to make it spotless. 

john b loved it of course, it was a lovely evening in principle, you would enjoy it if you didn’t feel like you’re going to explode. 

right now you’re straddling his lap on the couch, grinding on him as he undoes his pants. you’re both moaning and panting, except you’re only really pretending to, this is all for him anyways. 

he grunts, “missed you so much baby,” he speaks into your ear, “missed you so much.” his hands come up to undo the zip on your dress and pull it down and off your body. 

you force a smile, “missed you too john b.” you lean forward to kiss him, locking lips so as to distract yourself from the tears that are just about threatening to fall. 

his hands grip your hips and then soon he’s sliding his dick into you, beginning to love after a second or two. it should feel good, it should feel so good but the extra sensation is just pushing you over the edge. 

you only last a minute or so before seal of your lips is broken due to your bursting into tears. you just can’t hold it anymore, you have to start sobbing otherwise you don’t know what will happen. 

john b immediately pulls away, “woah- hey.. hey what’s happenin’ baby?” he stops all his movements, hand coming up to cup your cheek and make you face him. 

you sniffle, still sobbing unevenly, “I’m— I’m sorry john b,” you cry, making to bury your face in his bare chest, it’s warm against the skin of your cheek. 

he coos, stroking your hair, “hey… hey don’t be sorry. just tell me what’s makin’ you cry all of a sudden.” he looks down, concern etched in his features. 

“just,” you sniffle, “just so.. so overwhelmed… been doin’ so much all week and just.. need.. need to..” you can’t even finish your sentence as your fit of tears continues. 

john b nods, “just need to have a little cry? let it all out?” he murmurs, asking if that was the end of your sentence. you nod. 

he hums, “okay, you do that.” he rubs your back and starts to move. he pulls his dick out of you, already flaccid due to the diffused situation. 

he dressed himself from the waist down again, and then grabs a blanket to wrap around your shoulders, he pulls you close once more. 

you sniffle, letting yourself feel comfort from his warm presence. eventually you calm down, breath still shaky, tears still falling. 

he tilts your head up to check on you, “all done?” he asks gently, stroking your cheek and wiping the tears away with his thumb. you sniffle but nod nonetheless. he hums approvingly, “good. now here’s what we’re gonna do.” he adjusts his grip on you, sitting up a little, “we’re gonna get up, you’re gonna have a snack, drink some water, and then we are going to cuddle up and watch one of those softie pink lookin’ movies that I hate. okay?” 

you look down, still sniffling sadly, but you nod. he doesn’t accept that response though, he squeezes you a little, “I said okay? c’mon, I see that smile.” he pokes your cheek. 

you let a little curve take your lips, “okay,” you murmur. and just like that, john b has saved the day, again.

[seancekitsch]

Hey! Absolutely LOVE your Gwayne series! You write him so well <3 If you're still taking requests, could you write a Gwayne x reader where he gets jealous of an interaction the reader has with Criston? Thank youuu<3

ahhh thank you!!! this ones a shortie but fun

You can feel his eyes on you before you even see them, a pin pricking feeling at the back of your head that makes your scalp itch. You attempt, however in vain, to ignore it. It is too soon to turn your head, too soon for eyes to meet. 

“Ser Criston, can you make sure this gets done?” you ask him, a sweet smile on your lips. The man is all too serious, all too quiet and easy to bristle. It is a wonder the Queen keeps him so close, though he taught the two eldest princes everything they know. 

“Yes, Lady Hightower,” he nods, bowing as he turns to leave. His gloved hand slips tight around the small purse you had given him, holding onto it as if it is something that could save the realm. It takes only a moment before another pair of gloved hands touches you, this time the hands grasp your hips tightly. You do not need to turn to know exactly who the hands belong to, nor what words will come from his mouth. 

“Must you tease me?” 

You gasp, as the closeness of the voice does indeed surprise you. His breath fans out across your ear, and sends shivers down your spine. Oh, you’re in for it. 

“Tease you? I simply asked a Kingsgaurd to deliver a letter to your sister,” you tell him, glad that he cannot see your face, in fear your smile may give away your game. He sighs, his heat enveloping you in the morning dew. 

“Is that a crime, now?” You ask, loving the way his grasp tightens on you, fingers digging into you. 

He chuckles behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder momentarily, notedly not a kiss against your skin. His hair tickles your neck, and you make a point to remember to give his hair a little trim before bed tonight. 

“It is a crime when it’s him,” he tells you, lips now ghosting the side of your neck, “And when you look so fucking ravishing today.”

You laugh as you turn in his arms, your husband’s scowl greeting you as his fingers now fall dangerously at the back laces of your gown. His eyes bore into you, though his anger is not for you, never for you. 

“Please, that pout is unbecoming,” you chide him, lifting your hands to brush your thumbs against the corners of his lips as if you could wipe the frown from his lips. It works, if only slightly, the harsh edges of his frown starting to melt into a flatter and less offensive line. 

“You are a cruel woman, I should have listened to father,” he says, his voice wavering in its heavy tone. You fake a scoff, one of your hands lightly slapping at his chest as your face contorts in fake hurt. 

“What has Otto said about me this week? Truly you’re not still thinking of annulment, are you?”

He pulls your flush against him, burying your face into his tabard as he holds you tightly, his hands wandering scandalously towards your ass. 

“Now see, while you taunt and humiliate me I cannot bear a thought like that. You want to know why?” he does not even wait for you to nod against his chest, although you do, “It is because you are mine, and I am free to grab handfuls of this bottom of yours anytime I’d like.”

And with that, he makes good on his word, gripping your ass so forcefully he lifts you slightly and makes you rise to your toes. Your hands rise up, arms wrapping around his neck to stabilize yourself as he knocks you off balance. 

“Gwayne!” you squeal, giggling like a maiden at his boldness. While the two of you have never been shy about your affections, he often does things that can bring a blush to your cheeks at his audacity. 

“Come, tell me why you feel the need to play with my feelings like this,” he nearly begs, his nose nudging at your face to urge your lips closer to his, “Why must you speak to him?”

“Ser Criston?” you ask, not completely ready to give up the game, though you know it now may end with Gwayne pushing you up against a bower in the garden or forcing you to sit in a servants stairwell while he takes what he needs. You encourage it, provoke it even. 

“Do not dare speak his name, wife, please,” his voice growing more ragged and desperate, his right hand pushing further down to grip at the back of your thigh and threatening to push apart your thighs where you stand. People can see, and they probably do; but you are but newlyweds, and your love and appetites for one another are still new. Exceptions to decency might be made in your case. 

“Ease yourself, husband. I only tease you because of this response. I love to see you hungry,” you tell him, your teeth grazing across his bottom lip. You know you are playing with fire, but you cannot help it. Gwayne stirs something within you that you never felt possible.

“And I am so hungry for you,” he concurs, finally capturing your lips in a kiss biting and rough and all too quick. He pulls his lips from you, and his hands almost entirely save for his gloved hands covering yours as he starts to walk backwards and pull you towards the inner layers of the keep. 

“Shall you sate my hunger?” he asks, his smile finally breaking on his face. 

And who are you to deny him?

[ravenwind-75]

If @heylorrain subjected me to pain and angst songs and said to go with the ideas I was given, I listened, hard. And so I have something for you. Sorry in advance.

Indigo:

~~~~~~

He was worried about her. She knew that. That she shouldn’t be here still. That she’d lose her way to the next place. Yet she lied to herself each day that she could find her way back to him. That this time her path would lead to life not death. She never should have left him, she never should have gone there when he asked her to leave his family to him.

Yet she did.

She wondered if her aura had changed. He used to say it was bright and brilliant. She used to feel it herself, the thrumming of life and power, of love. Now she felt colder, and lonely. It was so dark here in the in between. She didn’t know how the other ghosts did it. How they moved past it. The guilt.

Maybe it was time she finally went home, but she didn’t want to leave him here by himself. It wasn’t fair, why did they have to say goodbye? Why did she have to be dead and alone, leaving someone who needed her just as much and even more so?

…..

He gave her a piece of his heart and then tried to run from it. Run from her love. And when he finally accepted it he was so lost in the clouds of fear, he’d never seen that the sun would risk her light for him. Now he couldn’t feel her closeness, warmth at all.

When he heard the news his light had left him, his face paled. When her hand evaporated in his the clouds of his soul shed tears, bitter rain of sorrow.

Yet her death had given him some hope and faith that he could be free of them. That he’d be saved.

But at what cost? What kind of lesson was this?

Her death is my fault…

He’d lost his color. He lost his light. He lost his love.

….

She was the gold to his silver, the sun to his moon. He had never felt warmer than when he was in her presence. Soft curls wrapped around his fingers, her cradled against his chest, her lips pressed against his. She gave him the joy that he’d shared.

Now he was her warmth yet she couldn’t feel it. Just a wisp of frigid wind that made him shiver that he didn’t have the heart to tell to leave him alone. He wanted her warmth back, to feel her colorful aura.

Yet she begged him as he knelt on the cold stone floor, wand to his head, “Don’t take the life I fought to save. Live for me. You’ll come home to me someday. Patience remember? I can wait. Please!”

“I already feel dead so why can’t I join you?! I don’t want another sun to set without being by your side.”

But he’d stayed when she left. Many tears were shed when they said goodbye, one last brush of her hand on his cheek he felt her fade away, his wand pointed skyward doing nothing to sense her shape.

“Don’t say goodbye I’m right here. Please, I’m not leaving, not ever.” She’d said weeping softly.

He just smiled weakly, “Darling it’s better there. Go.”

It didn’t take long to convince her. Her spirit was tired. And they just kept painting each other darker.

He couldn’t move on with her here. And she got no rest. It was time to part ways with their ghosts.

“Goodbye Ominis.”

“Goodbye, my darling.”

…….

She’d loved the color indigo. She said it was what a twilight sky looked like. Where everything is half-lit and bathed in a hue between reality and a dream.

Maybe this is how indigo felt. Calm, sad and soft. An understanding, the deepest sense of peace yet a slow pain in the quiet isolation of her absence. On the edge of something unspeakable, untouchable.

A longing, a wish for connection out of reach, something impossible. Not a bright sadness but a certain kind of a melancholy that simply fades into the silence of darkness like the light of day.

Like she did.

His favorite color used to be gold, her brightness.

Now it was indigo.

Because In his dreams, when twilight came, she lived.