#even the way he was kissing me. holding me. looking at me and god

[kisssukuna33]

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always have you over at his house the night before an important match. It helps with the stress he says.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always put on a TV show before you two settle into the couch for cuddles. Usually the cuddling session is a mix of him relaxing against you as you ask him questions about the match tomorrow.

"You packed an extra pair of shorts this time right? Remember what happened last time"

"yeah I did"

"Did you iron the clothes?"

"Uraume took care of it"

"That new protein shake your nutritionist recommend, Did you take it?"

"Already did"

"What about the snacks during the game tomorrow? did Uraume-

"oh my god baby relax, it's all taken care of"

He says in somewhat of an annoyed tone as he pulls you even closer to his chest, tightening his grip around you. But deep down he loves it when you are concerned about him like this.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who insists that having a good time before the match tomorrow isn't a problem to him but you reject the offer firmly because you know how Sukuna gets whenever you two started something.

It always ends up dragging for hours so no, your bf needs his beauty sleep for tomorrow.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who pouts slightly when you say no to him but decides to settle with the short make out session instead, better than nothing he thinks.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who teasingly steals few touches from your sensitive areas, clearly trying to rile you up but stops after seeing the glare you gave him.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who never seems to be the type to get much nervous before matches. Because of his Overconfidence? His never ending Ego? maybe. But his ability to stand strong in situations like this always makes your heart flutter.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always makes sure you get the best VIP seat to his match, You always need to be in the front lines where he can see you from clearly when he beat up his opponent back to his ancestors.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always find a way to bring you up in the Media press. Sukuna is widely known by the audience for being a down bad "simp" for his girlfriend as well as a complete disaster for his opponents.

"Mr Ryomen, Do you know there's a whole talk in the internet about you being a simp for your girlfriend? What do you have to say to people who spread things like that?"

"Keep spreading the truth I guess. The internet definitely needs it more"

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who hurries back to his changing room and jumps straight into your arms. Despite your constant nagging for him to get patched up first.

"Baby did you saw the jab-cross I threw before he hit the ground?"

"Yeah it was Amazing Ryo!"

"I did good than the last match, didn't I?"

"Yeah you always do"

"Then I deserve way more than that cheap kiss you gave me earlier don't I?"

"Get patched up first you freak, Uraume's waiting"

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who lets you both into his house as he holds your waist with one arm. He let go of your waist as he makes his way for the bathroom while murmuring something about showering first.

As he started to shower you turn on the tv with the intention of seeing the live match you saw today in the digital screen. And it immediately cuts to a interview Sukuna did just right after winning.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who seems enthusiastic as ever talking to the reporters about the match he did and the opponent he beat. Not long after he adds a little appreciation from his part.

"My manager Uraume helped me with a lot of stuff so I truly appreciate them. Also my girlfriend stayed up beside me every night when I practiced and supported me in everything, this win is hers as much as it is mine."

"if you're watching this I love you baby"

A warm feeling start to take over your chest as you hear his words. The man who's appreciated and idolized by millions saying these things so casually to you, you still can't get your mind around it.

Then the reporter use his luck to ask a risky question one more time.

"it's look like you two have a great relationship together, what do you think about marriage Mr Ryomen?"

To that question Sukuna doesn't respond but instead returns a well knowing little grin as he waves off the interview.

"Tch why did they ruin the moment by asking that, now it looks like he doesn't want to marry me" you said to yourself.

Just as you were about to leave to the kitchen to grab a snack, something shining inside the closet that Sukuna forgot to shut earlier catches your eyes.

Hidden by the cloth piles it was a little jewelry box that had familiar initials on top of it.

It was none other than yours and Sukuna's.

Wait..

No that can't be, Yeah maybe this is the earrings he wanted to give you before.

But much to your surprise the box opened up to reveal a gorgeous wedding ring. A big diamond you sure costed atleast 5 six figures alone sitting on top of it. Inside the ring you and Sukuna's initials were carved into it making it seem even more special to your eyes.

Your heart is jumping from excitement and happiness, everything about your life is starting to get better and better and you can't help but thank Sukuna for it.

You don't want to ruin the surprise he planned for you of course. So you put the box back to it's place and sit on the bed till he's done showering patiently but the stupid smile you had since earlier didn't left your face for once.

"Alright I'm done showering let's slee- what's with you?"

"What's with me? nothing Ryo"

"You're are smiling very creepily woman"

"Ryo that's mean! My smile is not creepy!"

"Yeah whatever come here, freak"

Sukuna says as he drags you closer to his side of the bed while turning off the bedside lamp at the same time. Your bodies intertwine with each other like it was always meant to be. Sukuna's hands wrapping around you as he buries his face into your neck.

"Ryo?"

"hmm"

"I love you"

You can feel a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I love you too princess, more than anything"

Boxing Kuna is my favorite <33

No grammar checks though sorry :/

[rainydayathogwarts]

hi !! congrats on 3000🎉

i’d like to request an autumn - “this is going to sound controversial but i think that went well" with james potter please! thank you in advance❤️

Softening the blow - James Potter

ʀᴀɪɴʏᴅᴀʏᴀᴛʜᴏɢᴡᴀʀᴛꜱ' 3ᴋ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ!

summary: remus isn't the only one you accidentally expose your relationship to. lupin!reader wc: 0.9k+ gosh do i love myself a cyclical structure

James sighed, fingers twitching in a desperate attempt not to reach out to you, but you needed space, even if it were minimal. He cleared his throat, but still, you refused to meet his eyes. “This is going to sound controversial,” he started, and you raised your gaze up to look at him. Now he was forced to continue. “But I think that went well.” You squinted your eyes at him, scoffing in disagreement. With all the conversations and careful consideration you and James had taken to tell Remus, your protective werewolf brother, that you were dating, of course the truth was bound to come out in the worst way possible.

There was no softening the blow, there was no ‘Me and James have something to tell you’. No, there was just the reveal. You buttoned up the last two buttons of your shirt, shutting your eyes as you remembered the incident.

James had gotten you both distracted; it was his fault. You had insisted that your Potions essay needed finishing and like an idiot, you believed your boyfriend when he told you that you’d focus better in his dorm, where the loud chatter of the common room wouldn’t distract you. Of course, you’d gotten suspicious when he sat on his bed, patting the empty space next to him, but you obliged, oblivious to the way his eyes were instantly attracted to the sliver of skin that was revealed as your skirt rode up. James draped your legs over his, caressing your soft skin as you explained to him all the points you needed to include in your essay.

That was when the first warning sign appeared. James leaned in close to you, pressing a soft kiss on your lips and interrupting the words coming out of your mouth. You smiled sweetly at him, intertwining your fingers with his as you continued speaking. James leaned his head against the headboard, looking at you with so much love and admiration in his eyes, and he couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you again. “James.” A single call of his name was warning enough, but he ignored it. James knew that he wasn’t the only affectionate one in the relationship, and with just enough touch, you wouldn’t be able to resist him.

And he was right.

It only took two other kisses to your neck for you to begin chasing his lips with yours, a hand tightly gripping his shirt. God, were you bad at ignoring him. The shirt wrinkled under your hold and James brought a hand up to cup your cheek, moulding his lips with your parted ones. That’s when you knew you were done for. James’s shirt was off in seconds, leaving him in his trousers and tie, which you tugged on to bring him impossibly closer to you, tongue sliding against his. His large hands were gripping your thighs, using his strength to pull your body atop his, completely ignorant to the door knob turning on the other side of the room as he began unbuttoning your top.

Now, normally you and James weren’t so bold, however Remus had been gone for hours, and you were confident that he’d be gone for even longer. He made his rounds speaking to all his professors about upcoming assignments and catching up on missed lessons from the last full moon. However, when Remus reached Professor McGonagall’s office, he found her halfway out and on the way to the Gryffindor common room to look for Sirius Black. So like anyone would, he decided to walk with her. Discussing Sirius’s owl from home and Remus’s trouble with the newest piece of homework, the pair quickly made their way to the common room. That eradicated more or less half an hour of time for you and James to have the dorm to yourselves, secret kisses on the brink of revelation.

Unfortunately for you, Sirius was nowhere to be found so Remus, ever the gentleman, invited Professor McGonagall up to their dorm to check. The same dorm where his sister was currently making out with one of his best friends. Remus hadn’t seen it coming. Opening the door to the dorm, he only turned to look at what happened when he saw Professor McGonagall’s eyes widen, hearing her mutter “Oh dear” as she turned away from the sight.

Remus was silent, watching you turn on your boyfriend’s lap to look at him standing in the doorway. James had bit his lip to suppress the moan that had surfaced when you moved, but the sound was still heard in the small space. You gasped, rolling off James and desperately buttoning up the first few buttons of your shirt, leaving James to cover his chest with his hands. You didn’t have the heart to laugh at the ridiculous sight, because you not only had your brother caught you making out with his best friend, but so had the school’s deputy headmistress.

“Oh my god, I just showed Professor McGonagall my sister and best friend making out.” Remus cried, slapping a hand on his forehead. “Oh my god, my sister and best friend were making out!” And with that, the door slammed shut. You heard Remus’s hurried footsteps leading him away from the dorm, and probably towards Professor McGonagall, where he’d aimlessly attempt a weak apology before ranting to her about how he didn’t know about you. Slumping down on the bed next to James, you dug your face in your hands. You heard the shuffle of the covers as James sat up next to you, his fingers twitching in a desperate attempt not to reach out to you, but you needed space, even if it were minimal. He cleared his throat, but still, you refused to meet his eyes. “This is going to sound controversial, but I think that went well.”

taglist:

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl

[strwbrychffoncke]

"—baby take off my clothes cause i got somethin' to show ya,, 1.9k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: your plan to make rafayel stay with you a little longer before his newest art exhibition works a little too well.... contains: nsfw! lnds rafayel x afab!reader ,mc!reader ,reader is wearing a dress ,teasing (giving) ,u get carried ,kissing ,making out ,marking ,biting ,missionary(?) ,needy!raf ,kinda whiny!raf ,overstimulation (brief) ,creampie ,some cute fluff afterglow ,implied cunnilingus ,thomas cameo at the end lmao ,think thats it note: (mostly edited pls standby....) released much later than i intended but i had sm trouble writing but we somehow prevailed..........

-

"do you really have to go, raf?"

he lets out a long sigh, strokes from the paintbrush light and airy on the canvas in front of him.

"i already told you that you should come with me."

"but i want you to stay here with me," you almost whine, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind and leaning forward, pressing you body against his.

his breath stutters ever so slightly at your clinginess, heart picking up its speed in his chest.

"and besides...."

you rest your head on his shoulder, lips just centimeters away from his ear.

"isn't this a little much for an art exhibition?"

your voice is a hushed whisper, the sheer sound and feeling of it sending sparks through rafayel's entire body.

he's long since lost interest in his current piece, vouching to save it for later as he feels you unravel your arms and step back to give him room to turn around.

and rafayel feels his breath hitch at the sight before him.

its nothing extravagant, but maybe the simplicity of it is what stirs something up inside of him: you're wearing a silk pink slip dress, the color resembling a seashell you once found on the beach and gifted to rafayel, for good luck you'd said with a smile— and he feels like he was feeling that look right this moment, being able to look at you like this).

the neckline is just low enough for some cleavage to peek through, the top part hugging your breasts so nicely, simple crystal-like ornaments embellishing the outline (reminding him of the way light reflects off of the ocean's surface) while the bottom accentuates your waist and falls perfectly around your hips, ending just above your ass— if you so much as bent over slightly, you'd easily flash someone.

"'too much?'" rafayel mumbles your words back to you, hands reaching out to grab a hold of your hips.

"if you ask me, this is too little."

you can't help but let a laugh slip as he pulls you closer, hands pinching and caressing the silk of the fabric hugging your hips, gaze roaming up your body before making eye contact with you.

"no way am i letting anyone else see you in this."

his eyes are narrowed but his expression resembles a pout as he holds you close against him.

ah, there was that possessive side of him.

you laugh again in amusement, short and sweet, hands moving up to cover his momentarily before slowly trailing up his arms then up to hold his face, one of his hands shooting up to wrap around your wrist, turning his head towards it and planting a kiss directly onto the pulse point.

you pull him closer towards you, leaning down just slightly as if you had some special secret reserved for his ears only (despite the studio being occupied by only you both).

"then take it off."

in the next second, you capture his lips with yours, and as rafayel kisses back with equal and slowly growing fervor, the last thing on his mind is the art exhibition he's supposed to be attending in a little under an hour.

-

rafayel thinks you must've cast some sort of spell on him

since the very first time he met you to this life, you've had him wrapped around your finger without even trying— the sea god, folding to your every will.

sometimes, he thinks you forget the sheer amount of power you hold over him.

you don't know when exactly he's carried you to his bedroom, but you feel the soft mattress beneath you as he continues devouring your lips, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close as his hands roam over your body and slowly begin sliding the silk straps of your cute dress down, eager to free your breasts. he doesn't waste a second in leaning down to kiss and mark one, sucking hard on the nipple while squeezing and prodding the other in his warm hand.

"hah, raf—ah—"

your hands bury themselves in his unkempt hair, tugging at his lavender locks, pleasured sounds filling the room as rafayel switches to the neglected one, swirling his tongue around the bud, taking his time marking your tits in pretty bruises and bites.

after a couple of minutes he releases the mound with a pop, pulling back slightly, hair a mess and panting, taking in the sight of you.

he leans up towards your face once more. "you're terrible, y'know?" he mumbles against your lips before stealing kiss after kiss from them. "invading my mind like this... look what you do to me, princess."

he pins your wrists against the mattress, swallowing your whines when he bucks his hips between your thighs— against your dampening panties.

patience wearing thin, he leans back to his full height, ridding himself of his pants and freeing his hard, leaking length from their confines.

you feel your mouth water at the sight, wanting nothing more than to be filled of him completely.

rafayel smirks at the sight, stroking himself a few times before grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you impossibly closer, groaning at your choice of panties— a thong-shaped one with lace, color matching your dress— sliding them down your legs and tossing them to the floor. he grabs hold of your thighs, spreading you open, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder and holding it there with one hand, other aligning himself with your leaking entrance.

"ready, princess?"

he doesn't wait for your answer.

with a single thrust, he buries himself completely inside of you, immediately moaning at the feeling of your walls hugging him tight at the sudden intrusion and growing more aroused at the moan you let out, back arching off the bed and gripping the sheets tight.

already impatient, his hips quickly form a rhythm, throwing his head back and panting into the air of the room, pleasure heightened by hearing your sweet whines and groans.

"sl-slow, slow down, raf—"

"can't— you can take it, can't you? the way you're— ahh— squeezing me tells me en-ough—"

his voice is strained and god he sounds so needy despite being the one on top, and he is— he can never get enough of you; no matter how much time you spend together, its never enough.

he's been patient, so patient, and every day with you is a blessing and a curse because he always wants more.

and you can feel it in the way he's thrusting into you, beads of sweat forming on his body, hotly panting and whining as you squeeze his cock because he always felt too good to imagine.

you think he's a bad influence. his neediness has rubbed off on you.

but he's more than willing to give every part of himself to you in every way you desire.

"ah—!"

"that feel good, princess? there?"

he pries the leg against the mattress wider, granting him more space between you as he continues hitting the same spot within you that seemed to make you flutter around him.

at this point, he knew your body and mind exceptionally well, making his mark on you in every way that he could.

"you feel too good, too good— hah, ahh— should buy you more of those pretty dresses, yeah?"

you huff out a laugh that's quickly cut off by a moan, throwing your head back deeper into the mattress, hands flying up to grip his strong arms hard as you feel yourself coming undone.

"close— so close, rafa-yel, please—"

"gonna— hah— cum inside, ah—"

your arms reach up around his neck again, pulling him closer to kiss him.

your tongues dance to their own tune as his hips slam into yours, and with some final particularly hard thrusts you gush around his cock, breaking the kiss as you cry out in pleasure.

rafayel lets your thigh down in favor of leaning his body against yours, keeping you in place as his lips trail down your jawline towards your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin as he chases his own orgasm.

"too— much, too much, raf—"

you're whining into his ear, sensitive from your orgasm, overstimulation intense, legs wrapping around his waist and tugging him impossibly closer against you to try to ground yourself in any way.

"so good, so good, princess, i'm gonna cum—"

with a couple more thrusts and a harsh bite to your shoulder, he spills himself inside of you, cry escaping your lips at the sensation of his teeth as his warmth fills you.

he rides out his high with a few more languid thrusts, planting soft kisses against his marks on your neck and shoulder before his movements completely cease.

neither of you speaks for a long moment, only holding each other close as you both catch your breath.

you rake your hands through his messy hair (courtesy of you), giggling as he pushes into your touch, eyes flitting up to you.

"so needy," you jest with a little smile.

rafayel lets out a scoff, lifting his head to look at you properly.

"says the cutie that was vying for my attention," a teasing smile tugs at his lips. "it seems i'm rubbing off on you," he proclaims, all too smugly.

"you're a bad influence," you huff, pinching his cheek.

"your bad influence," he winks and you roll your eyes, reaching to peck the same cheek you pinched.

you both stare at each other for another long moment before the artist moves to get off of you, standing at his full height, holding your thighs as he slowly pulls out, rubbing them in an act of comfort when you let out a small whimper at the loss.

"hey," you breathe out, lifting yourself up onto your elbows. "aren't you going to be late?" you tilt your head, remembering the reasoning behind this passionate night in the first place.

he lowers himself to the ground, face level with your heat, watching the globs of cum drip and stain the sheets below. he can feel himself get hard again at the sight as his hands give your thighs a gentle squeeze, planting a kiss on the inside of one before his dark gaze meets yours.

"who says i'm still going?"

-

epilogue:

thomas called the familiar number for what felt like the upteenth time that evening, trying not to lose his mind outside of the venue where more and more guests began showing up.

"where the hell is he???"

by the time and hour had passed since the designated time of arrival, thomas had already baked up some half-assed excuse as to why rafayel wouldn't be showing his face at yet another exhibition.

thomas lets out a frustrated sigh once he gets the chance to take another breather.

"at least i have the paintings," he mumbles to himself, swirling the glass of champagne in his glass as he fishes out his phone from his pocket to check for any update.

1 new message.

he unlocks his phone to check it out, and in the next second, he's gripping it so hard he thinks he might crack the screen.

"oops left my phone off thx for covering for me"

the animated sticker that accompanies the message does nothing to quell his frustrations as he shoves his phone back into his pocket without bothering to answer and downing the champagne in one go.

he makes his way back inside, deciding he'll need a lot more than just one glass tonight.

-

a/n: why is rafayel so hard to write for i have to scroll through art to get inspo but i love him very much :x

-

[taelortot]

Walk with me for a second, yeah? So I was thinking, which is always a bad idea (according to my mother).

College student Megumi and his bimbo girlfriend would be a perfect match. At first It definitely threw his friends and passerby’s through a loop. He’s wearing all black with his little scene haircut, resting bitch face, looking angry at the world. While his dressed in all pink, short skirt, crop top, 5 inch heels girlfriend holds his hand, skipping down the campus sidewalk. She’s talking his ear off in that high pitched voice, a voice that megumi refuses to say he’s in love with. She giggles and bounces, making her tits nearly pop out of her top. She would smack her bubblegum and blow obnoxiously large bubbles just because she can. Begging her boyfriend for iced coffee with a “pleeaaseee gumiiiii” a small pout on her lips “I neeeed it” and who is he to say no to that cute little face? Those glossy pouty lips that he loves to kiss, tasting her cherry flavored lipgloss.

And he would never ever admit it, but god he nearly melts like a popsicle on a summer day when she calls him “Gumi”. He wouldn’t even make a noise as he nod his head, pulling out his wallet and paying for her daily coffee. A slight upturn to one side of his lips as he listens to her squeal with excitement.

The attitude was a different story. Megumi had his own way of dealing with her attitude, and y/n would love it. Always pushing his buttons to see how much she could get away with. Megumi didn’t mind it as much as his friends thought he would. Simply giving a a single look would put her in her place. A look that said “shut the fuck up before I make you”. A single look that y/n knew, she knew if she didn’t stop whatever she was doing, there would be a punishment waiting for her when they got back home. And as much as y/n loves punishments, she loved to be praised more. But!!!! On the off day that she was feeling a little risky, she would ignore Megumis look. Pushing his buttons, doing anything she could to get a reaction from him.

But our dear gumi would didn’t care who was watching, not one bit. Taking his thick, large hand and wrapping it around his small girlfriend’s pretty little neck. Giving her enough of a squeeze, along with a deadly look in his eyes, to stop whatever antagonizing behavior his little girl was doing. “You want to continue, baby?” He would ask, his voice low and full of threats he would most definitely follow through with. A small whimper would fall from those pretty little lips, testing every little bit of control the man has. A small shake to her head was enough to appease him, tightening his grip for just a second before releasing her. He would turn back to whatever he was doing as if he just didn’t do the most dominating thing he could to his girlfriend right in front of his friends.

It would leave y/n a little pouty (and a little damp), but that wasn’t anything megumi couldn’t fix with a chaste kiss to her lips… and her other pretty little lips.

“Where’s that attitude now, baby? Huh?” He would ask in a teasing voice, hands kneading the delicious fat of her thighs. “M’sorry gumi” she would whine, pushing her hips up, trying to get him where she needed him. But the action would earn her pretty little clit a slap. Two maybe.

“I don’t think you’re that sorry, pretty girl.” “M’sorry m’sorrryy pleaseee please gumi” he knew she was sorry, he knows his baby hates punishments. Always wanting him to worship the ground she walks on, which he does most days.

“Good girl, now lay back and let me do my thing, yeah baby?” His eyes locked with hers, waiting for that desperate little nod she does when she is begging for him to please her. Which he does, devouring her pussy like it’s his last meal. Growling into her as he tastes that sweet little cunt. It’s probably his favorite thing to do, getting on his knees, letting his tongue fuck her cute little hole. Sucking gently on her clit, because his girl is sensitive. Listening to her cute pathetic whines as she pulls his black hair, guiding him. Which he lets her do, allowing her to take all the control she thinks she has. It would be so sloppy, his tongue making lazy, languid circles around her tiny clit. Juices coating his face, nose to chin. Spit mixing with her arousal as he moans into her pussy, because this is also a treat for him. The pad of his fingers playing with her puckered hole, because one day “m’gonna stretch this pretty little ass.”

But don’t get it twisted, Megumi Fushiguro, is absolutely whipped for his pretty little bimbo girlfriend. Kissing the ground where she walks, carrying her favorite bubblegum around just in case she forgets hers. And he would never have an issue with all the guys on campus ogling his girl. Only because he’s heard y/n say “my boyfriends gonna kick your ass” to several guys who hit on her, which he does do. Megumi knows for a fact that his pretty girlfriend is so in love with him, so he has no insecurities when it comes to her. Grabbing a handful of tits when he sees a frat dude looking at her chest. Sitting her in his lap to makeout in the library when she’s supposed to be studying. Being so in love with this girl he didn’t even know a year ago.

He thanks his friend Satoru Gojo for fumbling this bad bitch, every single day. It’s not really gojo fault though, he tried to hit on her… but y/n likes the silently cocky bad boys. And Megumi is just that.

But Megumi would absolutely die if anyone found out he paints her toenails for her, giving soft kisses to the tops of her feet when he’s done. Only to hear that pretty little giggle he loves so much.

I want to write a whole fic about this. Something you’ll learn about me is that I LOVE LOVE LOVE to write y/n as a dumb bimbo. And that I shall do :)

Taglist

@vellichor01 @loveyislost

[syluriar]

vunerable - sylus x mc!reader

sypnosis: sylus has never been one to give up control, so you try and help him.

a/n: inspired by @yes-no-maybe-soo i legit just read your sylus hc's today and my brain scrambles to write this because althoug i love sylus bing a sub, you made some excellent points of it being hard for him to give up control because of what he went through in his past life (still haven't recovered, anyone else?).

contains: sylus being scared to give up control and not liking these feelings, mc (you) being so gentle with him. there's a slight mention of attmepted murder from sylus' enemies in the past. sylus crying (of that ever happens in game i swear to god-). angst & comfort.

word count: 1381

you straddle him with your hands resting at his hips, his chest is bare that allows you to see his breathing clearer. he's watching you with those ruby eyes you love so much, but you can see a bit of fear in them, unsurprising at the vulnerable position he's in.

it was your idea to do this, to give him the attention he gives you - the warmth, safety and consent. he knows you would never hurt him, but the image of losing all his control reminds him of his past life, as the dragon who has been beaten and chained for thousands of years. when the past you finally freed him he was determined to take control of his life, to never go back to the scared dragon.

he adores you, and you know that, he would do anything for you...but to give up all control, even if it is just you who takes it away...fear creeps back into him.

you lift a hand and reach up to caress his cheek which he immediately nuzzles into to, and he kisses the palm before releasing a sigh,

"it's only me," your voice is so soft, just louder than a whisper, like it was coaxing an animal out of it's shelter. you lean up and cup his face, thumbs brushing against his cheeks. "i'm the only one that's here."

you take one on your hands to gently run through his hair, an action that has him close his eyes to enjoy the feeling, and it makes your heart swell. "we can stop anytime you like, ok?"

a hum comes from his lips as he opens his eyes, and you see that small amount of fear has been replaced by something else.

he hates that you have to him like this, like he's weak, like he's a scared child who needs comforting - he doesn't like that he's showing this side to you, because how can you depend on him if he doesn't stay strong in front of you?

you kiss his forehead and you can feel some of the tension leave his body. a part of you wants to do this fats, you show sylus that yes of course, he can be like this with you, there's no shame and it and you'll always ben there for him , but you need to take it slow. you will show him all these things by listening to him, both words and body. you don't care how long it will take, because it's what he deserves.

you start to leave kisses all over his face, his cheeks, nose, even his chin that makes a small amused huff leave his lips. you're still gentle when you finally place your lips over his own, his hands coming to hold your waist. at any other moment it would be intense, fingers digging into clothing as your tongues fight each other.

but right now it's soft, like a perfect fluffy cushion you relax in. sylus groans at your mouth and you feel good knowing he does too. you see it in his eyes when you pull away, and the slight pink on his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

you giggle. "do you know how cute you look when you blush?"

he sucks in a breath, clearly surprised by your compliment. "cute?" he looks almost amused. "that not a word people associate with me."

"well they don't know you like i do." you give his lips a quick peck to his lips before your hands descend lower to his shoulders, a lot looser than before. "i kinda like it that way."

"and you call me possessive." he chuckles. the air around you two has become easier, the tension slowly fading away.

for some reason your eyes go to his neck, such a strong thing that often aches because of how much he has to look down at you. you move your hands towards his neck, his sharp intake making you freeze.

"oh..." how could you forget a lot of his enemies go for his neck? a common way to end someones life. you felt stupid. "sorry...i was going to massage it. it aches because of how much you have look down on me, doesn't it?"

he doesn't answer you, his eyes cast aside as he continues to breath heavily. your heart aches at the sight and you retract your hands, placing one back on his cheek. "hey, remember, your still in control. stay stop and i will."

his breath shudders and his shoulders tense up once more, his hands now gripping your waist. he sucks through gritted teeth and turns his head away, as if he was ashamed of himself. 

your heart sings with distress at the sight and you want to feel anger of the people that have made sylus this way, but what good will that do here? 

sylus…” you lean your head to meet him and see something shine from his eyes, falling down his cheek.

a tear.

“oh…” you couldn’t hold back at your reach to brush it away, but when your skin makes contact he flinches, and it makes you want to cry yourself. “it’s me, my love. only me. i’m here.” you brush the tear away, fingers gently thumbing in his cheek to help calm him. 

a strangled noise comes from his throat. “i don’t…i didn’t want you to see me like this…” his voice is in a tone you’ve never heard before, one of pain and distress.

“like what?” you reply softly.

he doesn’t answer straight away and you wait patiently, rubbing soothing circles on his shoulders like he had done to yours in times like this. 

“like i am weak, scared…vulnerable.”

you swallow the lump in your throat at his words, each piercing you harshly through the heart. “sylus…there’s nothing with you feeling any of those things.”

“i need to be strong for you.”

“do the strong always require to be strong?”

repeating his own words to him hit him like bricks, his eyes widening and lips parted in shock. ever so gently you cradle his face, his eyes still looking away from you. “wasn’t it you who said that?”

“...it’s not the same.”

“how isn’t it?” you ask, but he doesn’t reply, so you keep talking. “i don’t need you to be strong for me sylus. don’t you think there’s a strongness in being those things? weak, scared and vulnerable?...to me there is.”

your words make him finally look at you, his eyes still holding surprise. “...there is?”

you nod. “even plants and animals have those types of feelings, so you having them is normal. showing them to me is…letting yourself be loved by me even more than you do now. it shows that you trust me to see you this way, and trust me that i won’t turn you away.” 

you lean forward and turn his face to you before grabbing one of his hands and placing it on your chest, your heart beating loudly underneath. “trust me that i will always be patient with you, that i will never rush you and listen to what you say,”

you grab his other hand and bring it to your lips, softly kissing his knuckles and palm before placing it over your cheek. “and trust me that i will always love you, no matter what.”

he hears your love, your utter devotion to him that makes his heart sing. he stares at you with such loving eyes one might say they never knew it existed, but it’s right here, right in this room and in each other's arms.

he kisses you with such intensity, with such love that it almost makes you fall. with your hands on his shoulders you meet his passion, his devotion, his affection and so much more. he cradles your face as your lips part, heavy breaths falling from both. 

“i love you too, my beloved, so so much.”

he holds you tightly with his head buried in your neck, your arms around his neck and brushing through his hair.

you don’t care how many times this needs to happen, to assure him of your love and devotion, of your patient and his consent. 

because you will never, ever hurt him - he deserves better.

[utopiastri]

25. Showing up injured at their enemy's house for Osc/Charles, please? 🙏

hi anon!!! thank you for the prompt dear! i've never written choscar before and this was an absolute delight to put together!!! (cw for descriptions of major injury)

(prompt list here)

Oscar’s doing his best not to yawn through Ryan’s work story when the doorbell rings.

He smiles apologetically, standing up from the table. “Sorry, let me just get that.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Ryan says, smiling politely. Oscar inwardly grimaces at the pet name but smiles back.

A horrible feeling in his gut makes Oscar close the door to the dining room on his way to the front of the house. This gut feeling is proven correct when he opens the door to find Charles Leclerc on his front doorstep.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses.

Charles gives him a pained smile. “Oh, believe me, I wish I were anywhere else but here currently.”

“Then, why are you here? Go somewhere else!”

Charles gives Oscar a pleading look. “I need your help.”

“Charles,” he says exasperatedly, scrubbing his hands over his face, “I am literally the last person you should expect to help you.”

“Please.”

Oscar swallows. He hears a sound from behind him.

“Uh,” Ryan calls from a few rooms away, “Everything ok, sweetheart?”

Charles shoots him a look. “Sweetheart?” he mouths.

“Shut up. I was on a date before you came barging in here,” he whispers.

“A first date?" Charles asks, eyebrows raised, before correcting himself. "Ah, no, a second date but the first one was already pretty shit, hm?”

Oscar hates how perceptive he is.

“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“So second date. And you are letting him call you ‘sweetheart’?”

Oscar glares at Charles, but doesn’t get a chance to retaliate before Ryan’s made it to the front door.

“Oh. Ah. Who’s this, Oscar?” he asks.

“Pierre Gasly,” Charles lies smoothly, extending a hand to shake, “I’m a friend of Oscar’s from work." He shoots Oscar a defeated look. "I was just stopping by to drop something off, I won’t take up any more of your evening.”

“Wait,” Oscar says, before Charles can even start to run off. He hates himself for what he's about to do but his decision was made the second Charles said ‘please’. He turns to Ryan: “I’m so sorry, Charles actually came to tell me there’s a problem at work we’ll need to sort out – he offered to deal with it himself but I think I’ll have to lend a hand.”

Ryan shakes his head. “No, that’s ok, I’ll, uh, leave you guys to it?”

“If you would,” Charles answers, smiling in a way that would alarm anyone who knows him, but tends to charm complete strangers.

After a couple of minutes of Oscar saying his goodbyes to Ryan (and suffering through the worst goodnight kiss of his life), Oscar turns his focus to Charles, who is…

No longer in the hallway.

“Charles?” he calls.

“Kitchen!” is the response he gets.

“You know, when I offered to help you, that wasn’t me offering you to give yourself a…tour.” Oscar freezes in the doorway of his kitchen staring at the mess of wounds that was once Charles’ chest. “Charles,” he says hoarsely.

Charles smiles wanly, even as he continues to try to clean out his injuries a little. “Like I said,” he hisses as he pokes at a particularly nasty-looking wound, “I need your help.”

“You didn’t think to maybe mention the fucking life-threatening injuries you had, rather than standing on my doorstep teasing me about my date,” Oscar chastises, kneeling down on the tiles and swiping the first aid supplies from Charles’ hands.

“Oh come on, Oscar. You deserve better than a man who,�� Charles cuts himself off to groan as Oscar starts methodically trying to close up Charles’ worst injuries, but he swiftly continues speaking, “A man who calls you a pet name on the second date. And god, the least he could do is call you ‘baby’.”

“Do you think teasing me about pet names whilst I literally hold your life in my hands is the way to go?”

Charles smiles lazily, even as his eyes squeeze tight with pain. “Perhaps not, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Oscar says, taking a grim delight in the sharp inhale Charles takes as he starts stitching a large cut together, “You lost the right to call me ‘baby’ three years ago.”

“Was that when I tried to kill you in San Diego or when you tried to kill me in Beijing?”

Oscar gives him a wry look. “That was when you decided to skip our wedding to go meet with an arms dealer.”

“Ah, yes, my mistake. I promise he was an ugly arms dealer, if that makes you feel any better.”

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is Oscar trying to deal with Charles’ injuries as best he can. Oscar wants to say something. He wants to ask so badly what Charles is doing here, but he knows Charles knows he wants to ask and he refuses to give him the satisfaction.

He gives in in the end though.

He always does with Charles.

“Why did you come here? Why come to me?”

Charles looks at him and, for the first time tonight, Oscar truly registers the deep devastation in his eyes.

“You were the only one I trusted not to hurt me,” he whispers.

[pan-kojiwa]

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ➻ 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧?

[Characters] ➻ 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 | 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 | ??? |

[CW] ➻ SFW, stranger to lovers, whipped Kaiser, a bit ooc.

Waffle’s note -> that was long… tbh I didn’t know where I was going with this at some point… I should’ve just made a boyfriend!kaiser *sigh* well anyway, it’s still about cute aggression but with a little bit of obsession??? Also, does it feel like I tried to headcanon my way out of an 2k OS? Yes? Yh me too… it happened twice.. anyways u_u’

❦ 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫

✮ Michael Kaiser was used dealing with malice, to the point it became a second nature to him. After all, it was all he had ever known. Hurting people just came that easily. But everything changed when you showed up, and it’s still the case till this day. Michael Kaiser is mean, arrogant, and overly confident, yet all of that disappears in your presence. In fact, the first time he saw you, he couldn’t even speak. All you did was smile— yet he stood there, stunned. Your smile… so timid, but so bright… it almost blinded him. And your eyes… God. Those innocent sparkles in your eyes when you looked at him… he lost the war before it even began that day. You literally destroyed the thick walls he spent so long building around himself. Yes— the walls that hid the most ugliest parts in him, they got blown up. With just one look. And since then, he’s been craving your gaze— your attention. He’s drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

✮ Kaiser can be really selfish sometimes. From the first time he saw you, he knew he wanted you all for himself. He can’t help it, your entire being is calling to him. It's almost turning into an obsession at this point— and resisting the urge to be all up in your space is becoming hard. He wants to be the only person that you see, just as you're the only one he sees. Your smile when you're happy, your cries when you're sad, your rosie cheeks when you're being shy. Aah—He’s overwhelmed. Feeling so many emotions at once while picturing how cute you are— oh... he would love to have you all to himself.

✮ Kaiser never thought he would become a big, hopeless idiot when in love. Then again, it’s not surprising for someone who spent his life pushing people away and experiencing nothing but hate. But now, being hated, receiving or giving malice, manipulating people… he doesn’t care about any of that. Yeah— It doesn’t matter anymore. All he wants is you. You. The way his name rolls perfectly on your tongue like it was meant for it. The way your ears and nose turns a bright red when he tilts your chin up just to tease you. The way you always take a step back, completely flustered whenever he gets too close—he wants it. He needs it. God no— he craves it. He’s longing for a taste of your love, and he’s ready to do whatever it takes to have you by his side.

✮ Since you’re his first love, or more like the first person he’s allowed himself to love, sometimes he doesn’t quite understand his feelings. Well, he knows it’s love. What he doesn’t understand are the overwhelming urges to touch you, to feel your skin under his fingertips, to hold you in his arms, to grab you and kiss you all over, the urges to bite you just from looking at you smile… He just can’t seem to control himself around you. And he just can’t leave you alone either.

You’re passing by when someone suddenly yanks you into on of the meeting rooms. Luckily, the lights are on, so you could immediately see the face of the culprit.

“Kaiser?! What the fuck!? You scared the shit out of me!”

You quickly push the door closed, just in case someone passes by. You definitely don’t want to get caught in an empty room with one of the players.

Kaiser chuckles with a smirk as he leaned on the table behind him.

“ - Oh really, liebling? My apologies, I didn’t mean to.”

You raise an eyebrow, sceptical. Because from where you stand, he clearly did. Yet, you couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

“ - What are you doing here? Aren’t you gonna shower with the others?”

“ - Too crowded.” He replies, stepping closer to you with that playful smirk.

Your heart starts racing, and a faint blush creeps on your cheeks. You instinctively back away, your breath hitching. The door was behind you so you know you’re absolutely not trapped in the room. But with him so close, all up in your space feels like all your senses are being tickled. And not to mention how Kaiser had been acting strange lately. He’s always been a bit pretentious with everyone— even when he was alone— but now it seems like he’s paying extra attention to you. At first, you were thrown off, but the way he treats you like you were the most amazing person in the world makes you curious. Or flattered?

“ - Should I give you the key to the staff bathroom?”

“ - Oh my, I’d like that—only if you come with me.”

You blush furiously, your head dropping as you stare at your shoes, completely flustered.

“ - I—”

Kaiser grabs your chin, carefully lifting your head to meet his gaze. His gaze is intense yet soft on you. You could see his inner conflict swirling in those blue eyes, just like a storm.

“ - I know you were about to go take care of the team… He pauses. But… I wanted you all to myself.” He says bluntly freeing your chin, before taking one of your hand in his. He then gives it a light squeeze lifting towards his lips to place a soft kiss on it.

Your flustered look as well as your fluttering eyes makes him clench his jaw. Why are you making this so much harder for him? Why your little pout drives him mad like this? Why is it so hard— so impossible to resist you?

When he’s around you he can’t seem to control his emotions. So his only option left, is to let you go.

“ - If I make you stay here any longer, I might end up never letting you go.”

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear and then lets you out of the room, confused and heart pounding hard in your chest

✮ When he sees you, on the bench, wearing a jersey—a little too big for you— with his number and his name, his heart skips a beat. A warm feeling invading all his senses. He can’t see your expression completely from that distance, but he can definitively imagine your sweet lips silently cheering for him as well as your doe eyes, focused on him—full of anticipation for his goal. Suddenly, all he wants is to run to you— grab your head and kiss every inch on your adorable face. Yet he brushes off all this chaos of emotion it with a confident smirk, only sending a flying kiss towards you as he scores a goal for you. He was so close to ditch the whole match just to shower you with kisses.

✮ Kaiser is pretty much an open book once you get to know him. You’re completely aware of how whipped he is for you, even if he still tries to deny how much effect you have on him. The way you nervously play with your hair, or the way your fingers brush against his when you hand him his water battle during the team training— It’s almost ridiculous how it makes him go insane. So much that he can’t believe how much he just wants to hold you in his arms and hide you away.

✮ He likes to scoop you up in his arms. He always says that you look cuter that way but really, you both know it’s just an excuse to hold you in his arms. The way you circle your arms around his neck— pressing your chest tightly against his as your head rests on his shoulder. The way you hide your flushed face in the crook of his neck— oh… He swallows hard, an overwhelming warmth spreading through his entire body. He swallows again as the sensation began to migrate towards his heart. Fuck… it feels like it’s melting. He desperately wants to kiss you… to bite you… you’re so cute to the point he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. If you knew how much his heart is begging for your love right now… would you want him as much as he wants you?

✮ Kaiser always tries to mask what he truly feels with arrogance or confidence— because after all he’s “superior to all those plebeians.” So of course vulnerability isn’t something he comfortable with. He needs complete control over his emotion to feel secure. But it’s impossible with you around. And no matter how hard he tries to resist, he just can’t hide how much your cuteness affects him.

“ - Micheal!”

He turns around as he hears a very familiar voice calling him from afar—your voice. Your beautiful voice. The voice that could bring him down to his knees, even if he tried so hard not to fumble.

The cheerful tone you only use when you see him or when he smiles at you never fails to make his heart burst in flames. He can’t stay away from you, so that probably explains why his feet moved on their own, rushing toward you. And right there, you’re killing him— or more like your expression is. How can you be so cute? Your shy smile—your eyes shining with pure joy and affection— it’s making his heart swell with a softness that he sure isn’t used to—and it’s like a punch in the face.

But he can’t let you see this weak side of him. He can’t possibly let you know that he’s pathetic without you.

“ - Well, well, look who’s back to see this poor, miserable man.”

He stops right in front of you slightly leaning forward.

“ - You make it sound like I abandoned you.” You laugh softly hearing the dramatic tone dripping from his voice. But there’s something else in it—something that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“ - Oh, but you did.” He grabs his chest like what you just said hurt him deeply.

“ - Without any pity for my poor soul, you left me all alone for an entire week.” You tilt your head at the tone in his voice. It was back. That sad tone—no, not sad. Sorrow? You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“ - I was sick… sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

The way your voice softened to reassure him, how you’re actually scearching for his gaze to make sure he’s okay, it must have done something to his heart, because before you even know, one of his hand is on your chin, tilting your face toward him. But his touch feels hesitant—because in reality he knows that being so close to you, feeling you skin under his fingertips— this is a risky move—but he couldn’t stop himself.

Your hopeful gaze, the way your lips parts as if you wanted to say something but didn’t—

He’s down bad. He wants to hold you, to hug you and kiss you everywhere. You’re too cute for your own good. His heart is pounding in his chest as if it could burst any minute from now.

But Instead, he simply gives you an enigmatic smile, while his fingers slowly let go of your chin.

“ - It’s okay, mein liebling, you don’t have to apologize. I’m just happy you came back to me.”

And with that, he turns away, glancing at you one last before walking away.

“ - Wait—don’t go!” You grab his arm before he can get too far.

“ - Oh? Can’t live without me already?”

You look down, nervous and unsure, blushing slightly as you bite your inner lip. And something in Kaiser snaps. Something he’s been trying—desperately—to control. He can’t stand it anymore. You’re just too fucking cute, too precious.

“ - Fuck…”

He quickly grab your face, pressing a gentle kiss on one of your cheek, then the other. You then close your eyes as you feel him moving toward your left eye, then the right one.

“ - I need you… I need you so badly in my life. I can’t resist anymore… please…”

Your eyes went wide and you feel your heart swell in happiness— you even tear up from the emotions. Without wasting any more time, you wrap your arms around his head , pulling him into a tight hug with his head resting in the crook your neck, a relieved smile on his face.

Silently, you hug each other.

✮ The way you pout sometimes, when you’re looking for him silently scanning the room with your eyes. And the way they instantly light up when you finally spot him— god you’re so cute. It always makes him want to grab you, bite your shoulder or cover your face with kisses.

✮ The way you only look at him— like the other players don’t even matter. The way you massage his shoulders during breaks to help him relax, while you completely ignore the other players— giving him all your attention. It never fails making him feel like he’s special. Your favorite. God, the way you always run to him first with that sincere and genuine smile of yours, shining so brightly on your face. You’re just so perfect in his eyes. To the point, the only way he can manage to regain control is by nearly choking himself.

✮ He likes to tease you. He noticed how much his teasing fluster you and seeing you blush and whimper like that with your adorable doe eyes when he gets close to you makes his heart explode. And he’s addicted to this sensation.

✮ The way you get jealous is so endearing to him—you’re just like an angry little kitten when fans and random people try to flirt with him. He doesn’t even look at them—because they’re not you after— still, he can see how much it pisses you off. Well it’s fine by him. He gets to have you all for himself right?

You and Kaiser are heading toward the training ground entrance, chatting about you are in such a good mood. Well— until a sudden screech resonated in your ears. Of course it’s yet another fan trying to get his attention, screaming his name and saying all kinds of bullshit about how he can “get it.”

You turn around instantly, glaring daggers at whoever said that. Violence isn't an answer. It's a question— the answer is yes. Fully understanding this quote you prepare yourself to throw hands. But before you can even take a step, Kaiser stops you with a smirk. And, really, he doesn’t fucking know where he finds the strength not to pinch your puffed up— angry cheeks. So damn pretty.

With some convincing, you finally step inside the training ground holding in hand. However, the second you’re out of the public eye, you slam him against the nearest wall, gripping his collar.

“ - When are you going to ask me out?” You hiss, frowning and lips pressed into an adorable pout.

Kaiser smirks chuckling as he tilts his head slightly.

“ - Oh, but Liebling... He then slides his hands on your hips, pulling you closer while lowering his head in the crook of your neck. You feel his teeth faintly grazing your skin before pressing a soft kiss on the same spot. You're already mine.”

[suunani]

remembrance ( johnny suh )

▍ it’s been weeks since johnny last saw you, and he can’t wait to see you again.

content : 2.1k words, male reader, established relationship, lot of memories (written in italics), angst, hurt / comfort, soft & domestic moments, requested here!

johnny adjusted the bouquet of white tulips in his hands, his fingers curling slightly around the stems as he walked, his pace slow but steady.

the cold air nipped at his cheeks, but he barely noticed. he was focused on the flowers, their delicate petals soft beneath his touch. he wanted them to be perfect. it was the least he could do, even if it didn’t feel like enough.

the past month had been a blur — rehearsals, travel, late-night recordings, a schedule that seemed to have no end. johnny hated it. he hated how time slipped away from him, how the days seemed to vanish before he could catch his breath.

he hadn’t seen you in weeks. the guilt gnawed at him, gnawing at his insides like a constant reminder that he hadn’t been there for you the way he wanted to. the last time he had held you, kissed you, told you he loved you, it felt like a lifetime ago. too long.

johnny glanced at the tulips in his hands again. you had always loved white tulips — peace and remembrance, you’d said.

he didn’t know why he remembered that now, but the thought of it made him pause for a moment. he could almost hear your voice, your gentle laugh when you’d first told him, the way you’d talked about flowers like they had their own language.

you had always had a way with words.

“if you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

johnny chuckled, rolling over to face you on the couch. the two of you were curled up in a blanket, just passing the time in a comfortable silence.

you’d tilted your head, an eyebrow arched as you glanced at him. “come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“of course i’ve thought about it,” he replied, laughing. “but if i’m being honest, i don’t know what i’d pick. maybe… invisibility? i could sneak up on you and surprise you when you least expect it.”

you smiled and shook your head, clearly not impressed. “that’s just sneaky.”

“exactly,” johnny grinned. “and you know how much i love surprising you.”

you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “i’m still not sure how i feel about being sneaked up on all the time.”

“well, too bad,” johnny teased, leaning closer. “now that i’ve got invisibility, you’re stuck with me.”

you didn’t resist, instead reaching over to tug him closer with a quiet laugh.

“what about you?” johnny asked after a beat, gently squeezing your hand. “what would you pick?”

you didn’t hesitate.

“i’d want to time travel,” you said, eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and something deeper. “imagine all the places i could go, the things i could see. i could relive moments i’ve missed, change little mistakes. i could even meet people from the past and see how they lived.”

johnny smiled softly at your enthusiasm. “what would you do with all that power?”

you paused for a moment, looking almost wistful.

“i don’t know. maybe i’d go back to my favorite days. or forward… to see the future.” your voice softened. “maybe i’d even go back to when you and i first met. i’d want to remember it all over again.”

johnny’s breath caught in his throat as he walked, the weight of your words settling on him. the memory of that conversation, of your excitement about the idea of time travel, was more vivid than he’d expected.

he couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing.

what if he could really go back? what if he could relive those early days, hold onto every moment and never let go? but time didn’t work that way.

time kept moving, never stopping for anyone. it moved without care, without mercy.

his hand tightened around the tulips.

the ache in his chest grew. he wished he could just freeze everything, stay in those moments where you laughed with him, where things were simple, where you were right next to him.

“babe, i swear to god, if you fall—”

“i won’t fall,” johnny called down, balancing precariously on a barstool as he attempted to hang the fairy lights you had insisted would make the apartment feel cozier.

from your spot on the floor, arms crossed, you gave him a deeply skeptical look. “i don’t trust you.”

johnny scoffed, reaching up to secure another hook on the wall. “wow. where’s the faith?”

“you lost it when you fell off the couch last week trying to change a lightbulb.”

“that was different.”

“how?”

“…it just was.”

you raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “huh. just finish hanging them up before i have to call 911.”

johnny smirked, eyes still on his task. “relax baby. i got this.”

and then, right on cue, the stool wobbled.

before he could react, gravity took over. his arms flailed, the fairy lights tangling in his hands as he went down with a loud thud.

silence. then—

“…baby, i think i saw my life flash before my eyes.”

you stood over him, biting your lip, trying (and failing) to suppress your laughter. johnny groaned dramatically, sprawled out on the floor with the lights draped over him like some kind of tangled christmas decoration.

“don’t laugh. this is a serious injury.”

“you landed on a pillow.”

“it hurts.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. instead, you sank down beside him, resting your head on his chest. his heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, his breathing slowing as the initial shock faded.

“you’re an idiot,” you murmured fondly.

johnny grinned, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer. “mhh, but you love me anyway.”

you sighed, your voice softer now. “yeah… i do.”

johnny’s throat tightened as he walked, the memory wrapping around him like a familiar embrace.

it had been one of those ordinary moments, one of those insignificant nights that didn’t feel all that important at the time. but now, it was everything.

it was funny, how memories worked.

the big milestones, the grand gestures. those faded first. but the little things? the teasing, the stolen glances, the way you fit so perfectly against him when you curled into his side. those were the ones that stayed.

the ones that haunted him.

he let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to keep moving.

it had started as a joke, just a silly moment.

you’d stolen one of johnny’s rings, slipping it onto your own finger with a dramatic flourish, holding out your hand like a queen expecting her crown.

“i think this suits me, don’t you?” you’d teased, tilting your head as you admired the way the bright metal caught the light.

johnny had rolled his eyes, laughter bubbling up from deep within him. “i think you just want to marry me.”

you smiled. “maybe i do.”

the playful banter had made him laugh then, but later, when the apartment had quieted and the lights had dimmed, he found himself lying awake beside you, staring at your hand.

the ring still sat on your finger, loose but not falling off, the sight of it stirring something deep in his chest.

he had thought about it before, in passing. marriage. forever. but something about that night made the idea feel real, tangible.

he could see it so clearly — standing in front of you, his heart pounding as he slipped a real ring onto your finger. he could hear your breath hitch, picture the way your eyes would widen before softening into that smile that always undid him.

it was terrifying.

it was exhilarating.

it was just another dream that would never come true.

a dream that had once felt so close, so real, like something he could reach out and grasp if only he tried hard enough.

but now, it was just a cruel mirage, something that taunted him in his sleep and left him gasping for air when he woke up alone.

johnny looked up, and his heart clenched.

he was here.

the cemetery stretched before him, vast and still, the kind of quiet that wasn’t peaceful but suffocating. the kind of silence that pressed down on his chest, making it harder to breathe with each step forward.

his legs felt like lead as he took those final, dreaded steps toward your grave. he didn’t need to look for it — his body already knew the way. muscle memory had betrayed him, guiding him here like a path he had walked a thousand times before.

he hated this.

he hated how familiar this walk had become, how routine it was now to bring you flowers instead of taking you out to dinner. hated how, instead of texting you to say i’m on my way, he was standing here, staring down at your name etched into cold, unfeeling stone.

it wasn’t fair. none of this was fair.

his fingers trembled slightly as he knelt down, carefully placing the white tulips at the base of the headstone. he smoothed his palm over the petals, as if trying to fix something, as if trying to make them perfect — because that was the least he could do for you now.

then, slowly, his hand reached for the stone. his fingertips traced over the carved letters of your name, and the moment they made contact, a fresh wave of grief crashed over him. his vision blurred, but he refused to close his eyes. if he did, he’d see you too clearly.

and right now, he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“hello, my love,” he whispered, his voice barely more than breath. “i couldn’t come earlier. i’m truly sorry.”

the wind rustled the trees above him, a soft, almost gentle sound — the only response to his words.

a quiet, bitter laugh escaped him as he shook his head. “i brought you flowers again.”

a single tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it, landing on the cold stone below. he wiped at his face with the back of his hand, but it didn’t matter.

there would always be more tears.

“i know you’d tell me not to cry,” he murmured. his voice cracked, uneven. “that it’s okay. that you’d wait for me, no matter how long it took.”

his hands curled into fists on his lap. he let out a shaky breath, his chest tight, his throat burning.

“but it’s not fair,” he whispered. “it’s not okay. i was supposed to have more time with you.”

more mornings waking up next to you, sunlight spilling through the curtains as you sleepily reached for him. more lazy afternoons spent curled up on the couch, talking about nothing and everything all at once. more laughter, more kisses, more nights tangled up in each other under the covers.

more everything.

but instead, all he had were memories that felt more like ghosts, lingering in the corners of his mind, haunting him in ways he never thought possible.

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. “i still don’t know how to do this without you.”

johnny sat there for a long time, his fingers resting against the stone, his heart heavy in his chest. the world kept moving around him, but he stayed still, unwilling to leave just yet.

eventually, he sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky. the clouds had shifted, revealing a sliver of blue. it was a small thing, barely noticeable. but it was something.

maybe you were up there somewhere, watching him, waiting for him. maybe you were still with him, in ways he couldn’t understand.

he wanted to believe that.

he needed to believe that.

johnny pressed a soft kiss to his fingers before touching them to your name.

“i love you,” he whispered. “i’ll see you soon, okay?”

he stood slowly, his legs unsteady beneath him, his body reluctant to leave but his heart knowing he had to.

with one last glance, he turned and walked away.

it was a long walk back home, but it would be the only place he’d ever feel your presence again.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Dreams of Love - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Made it a Hughie and Annie baby. Named it Joel because I’m hilarious and Annie would sooner eat glass than name her son Billy.

Chapter Title from She’s Got A Way by Billy Joel

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary/Warnings: Request from my love @deansbbyx ! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, Dad Ben, pre-established relationship, so much horniness (would we expect anything less?)

“Where the hell did Annie get a baby from.”

You sigh, giving Ben a flat look. “Her vagina, Benjamin. That’s where most of them pop out, you know.” 

Ben scowls, shooting you a glare that really only makes your whole body warm and soft. “Shut the fuck up, brat, you know what I meant-“

“I don’t think I did, Pretty Boy. I think you need to start explaining where you think babies come from-“

You’re cut off as Ben pulls you right to his chest, dropping his brow to yours with a smirk.

“You know damn well that I know where babies come from, Sunshine.” He drawls, and he’s really warm, and he smells so good, and his muscles are flexing around you, and his keeping his mouth just far enough away that you can’t kiss him but God you want to-

Ben-

You need something, darling? Need me to fuck you dumb right here, fill you up with my cock and remind you how fucking good we are at baby making? 

You swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from his darkened, lust-blown eyes. He’s starving for you, and you can feel it everywhere—you can’t even tell where your own thirst for him begins and his hunger for you ends—but you cannot have sex right now. There just isn’t the time, and it’s not like Ben’s going anywhere, but fuck, he’s so handsome and he’ll taste like strawberries and maple syrup from breakfast, and you can feel how hard he is, pressing against your thigh-

“MM’s going to be here soon,” you whisper, fidgeting with the collar of Ben’s shirt to give your fingers something to do that isn’t wrapping around Ben’s dick. “And Ryan needs to go to school. I can drive him if you-“

Ben rolls his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your brow before rising back up to his full height. “You’re not fucking driving. I’ll take Ryan, you get the Campbell baby.”

“But-“

He drawls your name, raising his brows. “You really fucking think MM is going to leave a fucking baby with me.”

“Yeah, I do.” You raise your chin slightly, holding Ben’s vaguely amused gaze. “He doesn’t hate you anymore-“

“Doesn’t matter if he still wanted to cut my fucking dick off or not, you’re the only one he’s leaving it with.”

 “It had a name, Ben.” You say, wrapping your arms around his torso and leaning your chin on his chest. “And I’m sure MM would leave Joel with you if I ask him to.”

“But you’re not going to ask,” Ben says your name with a shrug, half picking you off the floor and cradling your head with one hand. “I’m bringing Ryan to school, you’re taking the baby. That’s it.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “What if I promise you a blowjob to trade?”

He snorts, the radiance in his body bursting along your ribs. I’d get that blowjob anyway. 

What if I promise breeding kink sex?

His eyes narrow. You think you’re real fucking smart.

I do. You smile at him, playing with the hair on his beard as you sway slightly in his arms. You say I am all the time. You call me clever, and beautiful, and perfect. And if you like me now, imagine how amazing I’d be when you fucked me good enough for to put a baby-

You win. Ben’s hand tightens on your waist, his eyes flash, his hunger almost explodes through his body, and it’s all the warning you get before his mouth is crashing down to yours. Your silent words are cut off with a deep growl from Ben’s chest as he walks you backwards to the kitchen counter, his hand tugging at your hair to deepen the kiss. Your lips part with a moan that Ben swallows, and you’re scratching at his back as he shoves a knee between your legs, and fuck, he’s so good-

Such a needy fucking brat. He mutters in your head, and you can only grind against him. You are fucking perfect, you’re a goddamn miracle, but that smart fucking mouth, Ben hums against your lips, starting to kiss a wet, sloppy line down your neck. It’s a fucking marvel, Sunshine. Going to fucking kill me, how goddamn beautiful you are, all fucking dumb and pretty when I touch you-

Fuck- You whine when he starts to suck on that one spot near your throat, and he chuckles against your skin. God, Ben-

Words, darling, use that smart mouth to beg-

Please, Benjamin, you ass-

You squeak as his hand pins you against his knee, and he draws back, scanning over your open, desperate expression with a wide smirk. 

“Hi, Sunshine.” He drawls, tipping your chin back with a careful hand, and you might be drooling. 

He’s so fucking handsome. It’s really not fair. This life looks painfully good on him, where all his love is still hot and bloody and focused in your body, but the resolve to hold you is just to hold you. There are no threats that you’d need protection from, but Ben’s still shielding you just a little all the time because that’s what he does. He loves and cares about you so violently you’d be worried he offers you too much, but all he’s ever asked for in return is this. Is you, already a little dazed from his hand dragging circles on the skin of your hips, your mouth hanging open as you take in his messy hair and relaxed expression. Everything in him glows when he presses his thumb on your lower lip and you moan, and when he leaves a small, almost chaste kiss on the space between your eyes the fire under your skin starts to push up, and you’re smoking, and he’s just grinning at you like a dick-

“You’re so fucking perfect, beautiful.” He mutters, and you don’t know why he’s not just fucking you. “When I get you alone again, you’re going to cum on my hands, then my face, then my cock when I fill you up. You’re going to feel me for fucking days, darling, and everyone will know that I always fuck you properly when you sit down at a meeting and fucking whine like a goddamn brat.”

You have a small, breathless speech in your head that’s mostly a plea of you are alone, right now, and it’s not possible for Ben to make you feel it for days, but God, you’d like to see him try, but you don’t get the chance to say it. You stare at Ben’s smug grin for a long second, taking steady breaths to try and regain just a little bit of control over your brain—which right now seems to only remember how to say Benjamin, please—and Ryan walks into the kitchen with his backpack and nervous, quick words.

“Ben, I lost my notebook-“ Ryan’s eyes widen at the scene before him—Ben still holding you on his knee, your whole body slack under his touch and very obvious, slightly glowing smoke rising from your skin—and he freezes in the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’ll just go wait in the car-“

“Stay here, kid.” Ben helps you down, pressing one last, gentle kiss to your brow before turning his attention to Ryan. “Car’s not started yet, and your notebook’s under the couch.”

Ryan frowns. “How did it-“

“Shoved it there last night.” Ben grunts. His voice is really deep. His arm is still around you. He smells like pine and coffee and that earthy, salty thing that’s just Ben-

“Oh.” Ryan nods slowly. “Was it- I’m-“

“Don’t fucking apologize. It wasn’t in the way, I just had to do all the damn baby proofing-“

That snaps you out of it.

“You were baby proofing?”

Ben frowns down at you, something slightly sore wrapping over his skin. “Of course I was fucking baby proofing, I’m not going to let the damn thing just fuck around the house and die-“

You let just a little bit of your own, raw and infinite love leak into Ben’s body, rising up to press a kiss right over his beard and humming against his skin. Thank you, Benjamin. That was sweet.

I am not fucking sweet-

Of course not, Pretty Boy. What was I thinking. Your smile is wide and unrestrained as you lean back, holding Ben’s face between your hands. I love you.

I love you too, Sunshine. He rolls his eyes, dragging one of your hands to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I’ll get your notebook, Ryan. Go put on your shoes.”

“Okay.” Ryan bounces on his feet, looking between you and Ben with an open, anxious expression. “Is- Are Hughie and Annie bringing Joey here?”

“They’re on their honeymoon,” you explain, Ben scowls, and you shoot him a flat look. “Which someone is being a grumpy asshole about.”

“It’s fucking bullshit.” Ben grumbles, guiding you out of the kitchen. “We’ve been married for ten goddamn month and haven’t gone on our honeymoon. Why the hell do those pussies get to go first.”

“They’re not going first, Ben, they just actually planned their wedding instead of doing it spontaneously in a field-“

Ben rolls his eyes. “If we do that proper wedding shit, will you finally take some time off so I can fuck you on a beach?”

You flush, whacking Ben’s chest as Ryan looks around absent-mindedly, pretending not to hear. Benjamin-

The kid is used to it, Sunshine-

He shouldn’t be- 

He’s fine. I think he’s got bigger fucking problems than me loving you like you deserve-

But-

“Ryan.” Ben grunts, tucking you a little further into his side and ignoring your death glare. He’s lucky you can’t burn his face off anymore. “You got an issue with me telling her I’m going to fuck her?”

“I, um- no?” Ryan shrugs, frowning at the air. “I guess I tune it out now, just because you do it kind of a lot and I- I dunno, I just expect it. Sorry-“

“Don’t say sorry, kid. You did good.” Ben shoots you a smug look, bright, hot pride inflating in his chest. You’re going to strangle him, then make out with his stupid, handsome, cocky face. “Shoes.”

Ryan nods and wanders to the door, and Ben looks so fucking proud of himself.

Benjamin William- 

You barely get out your shared last name before Ben’s squeezing your hips, pulling you up into a long, open-mouth kiss that makes you moan loud and soft, your body molding right into his. Never should’ve told you my middle name, brat. 

Could be worse. You mumble, smiling against his lips. I could tell Butcher. 

He pulls back with narrowed eyes. You won’t.

Test me, Benjamin-

You tell Butcher, I’ll… Ben trails off between your heads, and you can feel a wired spike in his heart when he realizes he doesn’t have any believable threats anymore. 

You’ll what? You raise your brows, giving him an overly sweet pout. Fuck me dumb? Make me beg? Throw me around until I’m a whiny, horny mess for your cock-

He slams back into you, hauling your body into his arms without even a stuttered breath and carrying you to the couch. 

Christ on a fucking cross, Ben mutters your name between your heads, lowering himself to his knees before you as he kisses you back into the cushions. You’re so fucking perfect.

His tone is entirely reverent, so sincere it might kill you, and the pure devotion and fervor of his love in your body is enough to drive you mad.

Ben- His hand trails up your thigh, and you’d be embarrassed by your loud moan if it didn’t make Ben groan into your mouth, everything in him sparking and flaring. Fuck-

Later, Sunshine. He tips your chin back slightly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth right before he pulls away. “Stay here until I get home.”

You hum, taking his hand from your cheek and twisting his wedding ring around his finger with a small smile. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He chuckles, leaning into one last, soft kiss before rising to his feet. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, darling. Tell me when MM drops off the kid.”

Tell you on the what, Benjamin?

I’m not fucking saying it.

Please?

You give him your sweetest smile, squeezing your hand on his knee and leaning into his touch, and he groans.

Smart fucking brat. He mutters, moving his hand back to tangle in your hair and tugging slightly, just enough to make your head tip back. Tell me on the Ben’o’phone, and I’ll fuck your mouth and cunt real good when I get home.

Deal. Thank you.

Don’t. He grumbles between your heads, but even as his hand leaves yours you can feel the power of his love, the rough affection that’s settled deeply and comfortably into his chest. “You think we’ve got all the shit-“

“MM’s going to bring most of it. And,” you nod to the floor, and Ben turns with a frown. “I bought a play pen. We can keep it after. For later. When I get that promised fucking.”

You see Ben’s hands curl into fists, he stands a little taller, and fuck, you’re right at eye level with his bulge but Ryan really does need to go to school-

“I can’t believe Annie and Hughie got a fucking baby before we did.” He mutters, glaring at the play pen. “It’s a goddamn travesty-“

“Travesty.” You hum, looking up at him with a wide, teasing smile. “Big word, Pretty Boy-“

“Shut up.” 

Ben turns back to you, taking your face between big, warm hands and scanning over your features with a narrowed gaze. You can feel something wound tightly in his chest—slightly molding and almost painful—so you grab his wrists to keep him against you, and give him your widest, realest smile. The smile that’s for Ben, and Ben only.

It’s always really just Ben.

You know I fucking adore you. He says between your heads, his voice low and rough. Love you more than the goddamn universe, Sunshine, you’re my whole goddamn life. You know that.

I think you’ve mentioned it. You hum, leaning into his touch. And I love you too, you massive cunt, so say what the fuck you mean.

Ben lets out a dry snort as you drop your voice into a mocking impression of him on those last words, shaking his head slightly. Christ, darling. You’re fucking-

Perfect, I’m aware. Please, Ben-

You don’t need to ever do anything you fucking hate with me. He grunts, his body suddenly made only of fervorish, protective stone. I got you and Ryan, and that can be my world for the rest of my goddamn life, and I’d be good. If that caped fucking pussy knocked the idea of a baby out of your head forever, I’m not going to-

Ben. You cut him off with soft but firm words, holding his gaze. We don’t lie to each other.

Of course we fucking don’t-

So when I say that one day soon, I want to do this, you nod to the play pen. With you, believe me. Please.

His jaw twitches, and the wrathful care in his body doesn’t vanish, but it never does. It only moves back peacefully into your bones as Ben slowly nods. You’re sure.

Positive. Go bring Ryan to school before I do.

Ben rolls his eyes, leans down to kiss the top of your head, and half-stomps out the door.

He’ll be back soon. And—though he’ll never get you to say it aloud—you’ll wait right here until he does. Where everything still smells like pine, and you’re molded into the couch right where Ben put you, and you can smile at the play pen like a dumbass until the doorbell rings. 

You know it MM before you open it, because Ben just walks in wherever he wants—including into offices he definitely should not be walking into and meetings you’re supposed to be focusing on—and everyone in the neighborhood seems to know that’s Soldier Boy and the Anomaly’s house, so after the Homeowners Association incident, nobody really bothers you that much. 

It would be lonely if you didn’t already have a Ben, a Ryan, a Butcher—friend was too generous for the asshole, but he was unfortunately an indisputable part of your life—and friends.

Because when you open the door, it is MM on the other side, and he looks tire and pissed but still happy to see you. You can feel it—during your brief, tight hug—that there’s a heavy exhaustion under his skin and over his muscles, but there’s nothing but relieved affection for you to be here. 

“This kid,” MM mutters as you pull apart. “Has fucking lungs.”

You smile, following him out to the still-running car. “I know, I’ve heard them. Annie told me to buy Ryan earplugs.”

“Smart.” MM leans into the car door, pulling out the car seat and probably saying more things, but you don’t really hear them because that’s a baby. A baby baby. A barely popped, wispy haired baby that looks so much like a shrunken down version of Hughie it’s a little disturbing.

And you’ve met him before. You were there when Annie had her pre-mature birth, doing what Ben had called more work than the damn nurses and stopping Annie’s bleeding with a press of your hand to her legs a brief rush of pain between your thighs. 

MM had told you Ben had doubled over with a roar in the lobby, and you’d seen the evidence of it when you’d rejoined him and there was a large hole in the wall. But Annie had been okay, Hughie had given you a tight hug that could’ve left a bruise if that was something your body could do, and the baby had been healthy. 

You hadn’t wanted to hold him, nerves building in your throat about what feeling the emotions of a baby could even do. Annie had told you that it would be fine, and half-shoved Joey into your arms.

And now—just like then—you can feel nothing but soft, humming peace from tiny Joel Campbell in your arms. There’s no bloodied pain or freezing fear, nothing rotten in his chest or throat or head. He’s just a little fuzzy because you’re not Annie, but it’s a brief distress that fades when you start to hum and the whole world grows perfectly warm.

They’re here. Your words are soft down your connection to Ben, and he flares slightly in your chest.

Good. Ryan’s off, I’ll be back soon. Don’t fucking move.

You smile to yourself, and MM must realize that you’ve moved yourself into a trance, because he doesn’t try to talk to you until you’re settled back inside with Joey carefully in your arms, and all of Annie’s baby supplies are piled near the door.

“You think your old motherfucker is ready for this?”

You snort. Ben’s so ready you’re probably going to spend the next month after this trying to pry him off of you. “He is. He baby-proofed the house.”

MM grunts, scanning around the living room. “I’m guessing the asshole wants one?”

You might be smiling like an idiot. “You have no idea.”

“I think I can live with that.” MM mutters, giving you an odd look. “And- If I’m out of line tell me to shut it and I will, but can you even do that?”

You sigh, trailing one finger softly over Joey’s cheek. There’s something in that silent, happy hum you feel from him that really seems like Annie.

You wonder if your baby would look like Ben and feel like you, or look like you and feel like Ben. 

“I can if I want.” You say, shaking your head at MM’s look of confusion. “Don’t ask.”

He raises his hands in agreement, nodding to Joey in your arms. “Do you? Want one?”

“I do.” You whisper. “I always did, before, and then Home-“ You swallow. You still don’t like saying his name. He doesn’t deserve for his name to be said, not where Joey can hear it. “Then he, he did everything, and it didn’t seem like a thing I could ever do. But now...”

You trail off, and MM nods.

“What changed?”

You look up with a soft smile. “Do you really want me to say it?”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “That old asshole must have a fucking genie who owes him one or something.”

You only hum, because it’s not really useful to explain that Ben doesn’t need a genie. He’s just Ben, and he’s everything, and you love him. “Maybe. I think he’s going to be amazing at this.”

“Of course you do.” MM mutters. “Where the hell is he?”

“Dropping Ryan at school.” You say, lowering your voice to whisper to Joey. “He’s bringing us back chocolate.”

“How the hell do you know-“

“He always brings me back something. And he’s that way,” you wave a vague hand over your shoulder, where you can sense Ben moving around miles away. “So he’s getting chocolate.”

When you look up, MM’s gaping slightly. “He always brings you something?”

“Of course he does. He thinks it’s an apology for leaving me.”

“Leaving- Motherfucker.” MM sighs, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing you two idiots can’t die without each other. You’re already so goddamn annoying.”

You can’t disagree with that. Not when—a few hours after MM leaves—Ben pushes through the door with a box of those fancy fucking chocolates you love, Sunshine, and lowers to his knees before you, staring at Joey in your arms.

“Hughie makes a tiny fucking baby.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Don’t bully the infant, Ben-“

“I’m not bullying him, I’m bullying his father. Hughie’s a fucking adult, he’ll live.” Ben rises up to kiss your brow. “You look real damn good with a baby in your arms, darling.”

You smile at him, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. Keep it in your pants, old man.

For the damn baby I will, but I promised you a proper fucking, Ben drawls your name between your heads, shooting you a wink. Going to have you begging for my cum in your mouth, on your tits, in that pretty fucking pussy-

Benjamin. You give him a stern look, even as the deep sound of his voice in your mind, the sight of him grinning at you, and the hunger in his body settle deep in your stomach. Not when I’m actively holding the child.

He rolls his eyes, but drops at your side on the couch and kisses your temple. Fine.

Thank you. You lean your head on Ben’s shoulder, letting him tuck you against his side, his hand tracing slow patterns on your arm as you start to hum, soothing Joey fully to sleep.

And you could’ve stayed like this for a lifetime. Ben’s content—you can feel it, feel how deeply and easily settled he is at your side—this is so simply peaceful, and you have no desire to disturb the static, colorful feeling you get from Joey, so you could’ve died here.

But Joey shits his pants, because that’s what babies do.

And You really don’t want to move. 

MM left some things by the door, can you please-

You don’t need to finish the sentence before Ben’s moving, marching to the hall to grab the diapers and pushing the coffee table to your knees when he returns. You change Joey there—it’s a flat surface, you cleaned it that morning, and Ben had laid out a towel—before settling back onto the couch, and that’s most of the day. Joey’s hungry, Ben grabs the bottle and you feed him. Joey’s never cold—you and Ben are walking furnaces—but he seems a little uncomfortable, so Ben grabs a blanket Annie left and you swaddle. Joey shits himself again, and Ben marches upstairs to run a sink bath.

He hangs over your shoulder every second. And there are no grumbled suggestions or thoughts about Joey, only normal conversations about work and TV and Ryan and dinner. Nothing feels different, and the solid, pious care and love you feel from Ben is no stronger than normal. It’s aimed right at your heart and golden and warm in your body, but that’s just Ben. That’s how he loves you. 

The only change is something softer—lining over his head and lungs—that glows when you catch him glancing at Joey in your arms. When you settle back on the couch with a sleepy, clean baby, and Ben pulls you half into his lap, resting his chin on the top of your head. You waste the afternoon like this. Watching TV with Ben everywhere around you, Joey asleep in your arms and nothing really that worrying in the world.

When your phone rings, you almost don’t want to answer it. But it’s Butcher, and if you ignore him he’ll come to your house, so you sigh and pick up the call.

“Butcher,” you whisper, and Ben’s arms tighten around your body. “Please tell me this is important.”

“You wound me.” Butcher’s voice is filled with mock offense through the speaker as he says your name. “I ain’t ever bothered you for no reason-“

“One time you called me to say Ben lost his pen.”

“And he was tearin’ up the bloody office, so I needed you to work your fuckin’ sex magic on the Gov before he hurt ‘imself. Always got a reason, love, you should well fuckin’ know that.”

I can’t hurt myself. Ben grumbles in your ear, obviously eavesdropping. Only person who can hurt me is you-

Romantic, my love. Shut up. “Butcher, if this is a work thing you have to call MM, Ben and I both have the day off-“

“‘Fraid MM ain’t able to help with this one, love. I got Secretary Campbell ‘ere, and he ain’t leavin’ until he speaks to Mr. and Mrs. American Dream.”

“Stop calling us that, it doesn’t even make sense.” You sigh, glancing at Joey in your arms. “What does he want?”

Apparently, Singer’s Defense Secretary is trying to get you and Ben to donate some DNA again. And you’d send Ben to deal with him, but you’re pretty sure that would end with a dead Campbell and another year half on the lam for you. So you sigh, tell Butcher you’ll be there soon, and hang up.

Ben mutters your name, keeping you steady in his lap. “I can fucking handle this-“

“No, Ben, it’s okay.” You lean back on his shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “You watch Joey, and I’ll pick up Ryan on my way back.”

“You shouldn’t fucking drive-“

“I’ll go slow. And be careful-“

Ben scoffs. “You’re never fucking careful-“

“Yes, I am. I will be. Just take Joey-“

“No, I’ll fucking deal with Singer’s lapdog, and you’ll keep the baby-“

“Benjamin.” You snap, and he shuts his mouth with a glower. There’s something sore over his whole body, but it’s rooted in his hands. Itching and heavy and tense, tight around his throat-

You frown, tilting your head at him, and softening your voice between your heads.

Are you okay?

I-

And remember I can feel you, Ben. You raise your brows, shifting in his lap to fully face him. Are you worried about the baby?

I’m not fucking worried, he grunts your name, hands tightening on your body. I don’t want to you leave, Sunshine, is that a goddamn crime-

No. You kiss him, quick and sweet, and rise from his hold. But I do have to go. I’ll put Joey in the travel crib, and you can Ben’o’phone me if you need help.

Or you could fucking stay-

You’ll be fine, my love. I’ll be back soon.

——————

Ben wasn’t watching TV. It was on, in the background, but he couldn’t goddamn focus on it. 

There was a fucking baby in the room. It wasn’t bigger than his forearm, it kept making small baby sounds, and if Ben looked away from the crib for one goddamn second he was pretty fucking certain something would go wrong. The ceiling would fall and Ben wouldn’t be quick enough to throw his body over it. He would be quick enough, but he wouldn’t be careful and he’d crush the baby. The baby would shit, and he’d have to change the diaper. It would start throwing lightning bolts like its mother, and Ben would have to figure out what the fuck to do. It would be hungry, and Ben didn’t have tits. 

The ceiling would not fall. This whole house had been supe-proofed, because all of them still had nightmares that set off their powers, when Ryan and Ben it could—according to Her—cause permanent structural damage, and Ben needed to be able to fuck Her however he pleased without worrying about everything breaking around them.

Ben would not crush the baby. He wasn’t some weak fucking pussy who couldn’t control his strength after damn near 80 years.

If the baby took another shit, Ben could change a diaper. He wouldn’t fucking like it, but it was just shit and piss. He’d been covered in guts and blood and brains, shit and piss was nothing. Even if that thing took some of the biggest shits Ben had seen in his very long life.

According to Her and Frenchie, mainstreamed V wasn’t hereditary. It didn’t fundamentally change the users DNA or some shit, so Annie and Hughie’s baby would always just be a normal person. Ben wasn’t really sure, because somewhere in the conversation someone had said what if they had a baby and pointed to Her and Ben, and he’d gotten distracted. 

If it got hungry, She’d shown Ben how formula worked, and he’d figure it out. He’d do whatever the hell he needed to in order to prove to Her that they could have a baby. If they had a baby, Ben would fucking kill it.

Not the baby. He’d kill taking care of a baby. He’d feed and change and tend to it—just like he did with Her and Ryan—and it would be fucking disgusting and boring as shit, but he’d goddamn do it if he could have a baby. 

And he didn’t know exactly what the hell had changed in forty years that men were expected to change diapers, but he’d change a million diapers for Her. He’d throw himself into the Sun and bury himself alive for Her. He’d watch something called How to Train You Dragon for Her. He’d fucking cook for Her—she sure as hell couldn’t do it herself, and Ben would be damned if he let his wife starve—and he’d read a fucking book just to make Her smile. 

Changing a diaper—if that made Her happy as well—was fucking nothing.

So when Joey started wailing—about twenty minutes after She’d left—Ben was fucking ready. He’d been studying all the shit She’d been doing, and this kid wasn’t going to know what the fuck hit him. Annie and Hughie would get him back in better condition, and Ben would be a goddamn hero.

But the baby didn’t want food. And its diaper was clean. 

The only thing that seemed to make it stop was when Ben held it. Cradled it in his arms and rocked it back and forth, sitting back on the couch because every time he tried to put the little fucker down, it would start screaming again. 

Ben didn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a real baby. He’d seen this one in the hospital after Annie popped it, and a few times after, but he’d never really held it. Annie had offered once, and he’d taken it, but it hadn’t been like this. Where Joey was curled into Ben’s chest and Annie wasn’t bouncing on her feet to take it back. 

This was peaceful. Quiet. The TV humming in the background and Ben just fucking holding a baby. A baby that was happy to be in his arms, and didn’t fit perfectly because it wasn’t Ben’s baby, but was still a damn baby.

Happy. With him holding it.

Something became clear in his head. It had never been fogged or covered, but it was sharp now. Right in reach and touchable, more than just a fantasy or daydream. 

Ben fucking wanted this. And he could really fucking have it. He’d seen Her look at Joey, and She’d sworn she’d want this as well. She’d said She’d want it with Ben.

And he could see it. Ben could almost physically fucking see a baby that had Her eyes and hair and whole perfect face, and would grab Ben’s nose and fucking break it. Any kid She and Ben had would be a supe—as far as Ben understood it—and they would be the strongest one yet. Ryan would help them learn to control the strength, and he’d never fucking worry about being loved less, because as far as the baby would know, Ryan would be their damn brother.

It would be smart like Her and Ryan. The kid would be talking in three months—or something, Ben didn’t know when babies usually started talking—and do all the fucking school shit, then chose to do good things because they would be Her kid, and everything She did and touched became fucking good.

And She’d be the best goddamn mother. She already was, with Ryan, and this would just be more. More annoying parents for Her to threaten, another person for Her to teach shit to, and another piece of evidence for Her to have that Ben couldn’t love Her more if he tried. Another way for Ben to show Her that She, Ryan, and now the baby were the only things in the whole damn universe that mattered.

He could see it. Her padding around the house in Ben’s shirt, holding their baby in one arm and a phone in the other. Hissing incredibly graphic threats at a congressman while smiling at the baby, sometimes dropping Her voice to coo to the kid when She was between calls.

“You know.” She said, swaying slightly in place as she mumbled to the child. Their child. That was Ben’s fucking child. “If that asshole doesn’t listen to Mommy, she’s going to let Daddy yell at them. And Daddy can be scary.”

Ben frowned, but he couldn’t quite move or speak, She didn’t see him there, and when She kept talking any protests of him being ‘scary’ vanished into the air.

“I know that crazy to you, because Daddy isn’t scary.” She set Her phone down on the counter, devoting Her entire attention to the infant in her arms. “He’s just big and grumpy. Like an ancient teddy bear.”

The kid made a soft, babbling sound, and Ben really wanted to hear it again. Especially as a tiny fist shot up, wrapped around Her finger, and she smiled as it babbled again.

“You’re right, he can be a bit of an asshole. Isn’t that right, my love?” 

Ben could suddenly move, and he was walking forwards. Moving to Her side and pressing a kiss to Her brow. “Smart fucking mouth, brat.”

“You love it.” She hummed, leaning into him as She kept speaking to the baby. “He loves it.”

Ben did love it. He loved how fucking happy She was, how easy this felt, and how—when Ryan called from upstairs for homework help—She passed the baby into Ben’s arms without a thought and walked away. 

And that was their fucking kid. And it had sharp eyes that were scanning over Ben’s face a little hazily, realizing that Ben wasn’t Her, and then almost squealing as it realized that he was Ben.

It reached up for him, and fucking Christ, the thing was happy to see him. It was making cute fucking sounds and squeezing his finger, and not a single fucking pussy would ever be allowed to hurt it. Ben would do whatever the hell it took to keep the kid this peaceful, to make it always this happy to see him, to make it so that She and Ryan would have the family they deserved, and Ben could just fucking love them for the rest of goddamn time-

“Ben. Wake up.” A gentle, perfect hand trailed over his face, and he’d fallen asleep. 

He blinked his eyes open to find Her standing between his knees above him, and soft smile playing on Her lips.

“Good dream?”

Ben caught Her hand in his own, pressing a kiss to Her knuckles as he blinked away a little more sleep. “You don’t have a fucking clue.”

She hummed, glancing at Joey, still in his arms. “I think he likes you.”

“He likes that I’m warm-“

“The blanket was warm.” She shrugs. “He likes you.”

Ben grunted. He wouldn’t win this argument, and he knew better than to try. “Where’s Ryan?”

“In his room.” She said, dropping at Ben’s side and smiling at Joey. “We’ve been home for a few hours.”

“A few- You’ve been home hours-“

“Voice down, Benjamin.” She mumbled, leaning Her head against his arm. “And you both looked peaceful. I liked it.”

Ben smirked. Were you watching me sleep, Sunshine-

Yes, I was. And you watch me sleep all the fucking time, Pretty Boy, so shut it.

He chuckled, kissing the side of Her head, and they stayed there until Ryan shuffled down the stairs, stopping behind the couch and staring at Joey in Ben’s arms.

“He’s really small.” Ryan whispered, and Ben coughed to cover his laugh.

“He’s a baby, Ry.” She said, kicking Ben’s shin as She smiled up at Ryan. “We were all that small once.”

“I was never this small.” Ben muttered. “I was a big fucking baby, and you probably were as well, kid.”

Ryan’s eyes widened, and She scoffed.

“How big were you, Benjamin.” She narrowed Her eyes. And don’t say you’re still big now.

Don’t need to say it, Sunshine, you know better than damn anyone that I’m big. Ben winked at Her, smirking at her pretty flush as he continued.  “I don’t fucking remember exactly, brat, it was a hundred goddamn years ago-“

She snorted. “So you might have been this tiny-“

“I fucking wasn’t-“

“You could’ve been.” She stuck Her tongue out at him, light dancing in Her eyes. “We’ll never know.”

Ben rolled his eyes, brat, and pulled Her into a long, slow kiss with his free hand, going until She was sighing into his mouth and slumping over his body-

She pushed off Ben’s chest, and something was radiant and zealous in his chest when She leaned back to look at Ryan, and there was an almost drunken smile on Her face.

“Do you need help with more homework-“

“No,” Ryan shook his head, glancing back to Joey. “I- I’m just hungry, but if you’re busy-“

Ben’s brow furrowed. “We look fucking busy, kid?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then it’s dinner.” Ben grunted Her name. “You want ravioli.”

She gave him a wide, toothy smile, Her voice oddly soft. “Yes, please.”

“Ryan-“

“That sounds good.” Ryan nodded slowly, taking a nervous step back. “I- I’ll go wait in my room- And-“

Ben frowned. “You finished your homework?”

Ryan nodded again, and Ben moved to his feet with Joey still carefully in his arms. 

“Stay in here, kid. It’ll be easier to get you.”

“No- I- It’s okay-“

“Ryan?” She twisted fully in Her seat, a gentle frown on Her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just- I don’t-“ Ryan swallowed, bowing his head slightly. “Joey looks really fragile. I don’t- What if I break him?”

She tensed at Ben’s side, and Ben could fucking feel Her aching distress. Feel the presence of Her around his head tightening and spinning, see the sadness all over Her pretty face—almost perfectly matching Ryan’s—and Ben needed to fucking fix this.

“Hold the baby.” 

Ben walked around the couch to put Joey into Ryan’s arms, and the kid just fucking gaped at him.

“But- But I could-“

“You won’t.” Ben snapped, and Ryan shook his head.

“He’s so small, Ben.” He whispered. “And I- I could hurt him.”

“When was the last time you broke something.”

Ryan blinked at him. “What?”

“The last thing you broke on accident, kid.” Ben raised his brows. “When did you break it.”

“I-“ Ryan glanced at Her, but she was just leaning over the back of the couch, tapping Her fingers on the pillows as she watched. “I don’t remember-“

“November.” Ben grunted. “You freaked out during a team dinner and snapped Butcher’s table in half. You’ve had a fuck ton of freak-outs since then, holding shit a lot more delicate than a table, and not a single damn thing has broken. Hold the baby.”

Ryan still didn’t move, only staring between Ben and Joey, and Ben let out a long breath.

“Ryan, do you really fucking think I’d hand you a damn baby if I thought you’d hurt it.”

“N- No-“

“You trust me, kid?”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Of course I do-“

“Take the fucking baby.”

Ryan finally got it, and took Joey from Ben’s arms with slow, careful hands.

Nothing exploded. The sky didn’t fall. 

And Ryan smiled, his voice filled with awe. “He looks like Hughie.”

Ben smirked. “He really fucking does. Poor kid.”

She frowned from the couch. “Benjamin-“

“Sunshine.” Ben mocked Her tone as he bent down, picking Her up with a grin and laughing when she squeaked. “You’re hungry, beautiful.”

She wrinkled Her nose at him, whacking his chest. “Don’t fucking do that, you asshole-“

I didn’t do a fucking thing. Ben drawled Her name between their heads, his eyes never leaving Her’s as he moved them out of the room. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us, kid.”

“Okay!” Ryan called after them. “I’ll stay with Joey!”

All the mock anger in Her eyes dissolved in a second, Ben leaned down to kiss Her—long and sloppy and heavy—as he set Her on the counter, and when he pulled away, Her smile was fucking perfect.

She was hanging off of Ben’s arm the entire time he made dinner, smiling at Ben like he’d handed Her the fucking moon when it was only damn pasta.

What-

I love you, Benjamin. She whispered between their minds. So much.

Ben kissed Her brow, tracing his thumb over Her cheekbone. Love you too, Sunshine.

You’re really good at this. With Ryan and Joey.

He shrugged. I’ll be even fucking better with Ryan and our kid.

And that was the damn truth. Because Ben could finish dinner and help Her serve, and he could eat around the table with Her and Ryan, but when the baby cried it wasn’t his baby. And there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with Joey—he was adorable, seemed alright for a baby, and Ben would never fucking tell Her, but while She’d been gone Joey had been chewing toothlessly on Ben’s finger and it had been the cutest thing he’d seen in his fucking life—but Ben wanted the kid to be theirs. 

He wanted to set up the TV while She and Ryan cleared the plates, let Ryan chose what they were watching for family movie, and have Her sitting on Ben’s lap with their kid in Her arms. Ben wanted to lean over Her shoulder and see sharp eyes blinking up at him, to hear the baby make a bubbly little noise and for it to sound like Her voice.

He wanted Ryan to help put his sibling to bed before shuffling off to his own room, and he wanted to be standing here with Her over the crib—wrapping his arms around Her stomach and swaying back and forth in the dark—as they looked at their baby.

Joey looked so fucking peaceful in there, and Ben could see it again. A future where She’d be just like this, and the baby was really fucking theirs. It’s in a sturdier, bomb-proof crib built by Frenchie, and reaching for Her—because who fucking wouldn’t—and when it made a noise, Ben’s whole fucking world would get a little bigger.

I want one. Ben muttered between their heads, pressing a kiss to the side of Her head, and She hummed.

I know, my love. She smiled up at him, and Ben was going to fucking explode. In the dim light—with sleepy eyes and raw fucking love written all over Her perfect features—She’s was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. I’m sure I can find one for you.

End Note: Finally gave Ben a middle name. I don’t care what kripke and any future spinoffs say. That’s his middle name now, because it’s the funniest possible option.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[kiss4tell]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄, simon riley.

summary: you, a therapist devoted to mending fractured minds, finds yourself drawn to simon, a man who refuses to be saved. cw: slight psychological themes, inaccurate portrayal of therapy, dom!simon, unprotected and penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it), porn with slight plot. wc: 1.2k

The first time Simon Riley steps into your office, you know you won’t be able to fix him.

Not because he’s too far gone, though the weight in his shoulders tells you he might be. Not because his trauma is impenetrable, though you suspect he believes that it is. But because he does not want to be saved.

He sits stiff in your chair, his broad frame swallowed by shadow. The balaclava remains on. He watches you in silence, his presence a force rather than a shape. You’ve had difficult patients before, men and women unraveled by things they could never speak aloud. But Simon—he’s different. He doesn’t unravel. He resists.

You take your notes. You ask your questions. He answers in clipped, calculated words, giving you only what he deems necessary. There’s no attempt at healing. No trust extended. His jaw ticks when you probe too deeply, and though his voice is quiet, you can hear the warning in it.

But you’re patient.

╋━

The days pass in small, careful increments.

At first, Simon barely speaks, his replies brief and methodical, his posture rigid in the leather chair opposite your desk. But then, as the weeks wear on, the silences between his answers grow shorter. He begins to linger after sessions, his eyes sweeping over the bookshelves, the worn rug, the city skyline just beyond your window. He studies you, too, his gaze lingering a little too long, his presence stretching just beyond the professional.

It begins in small moments.

The first time your fingers graze his wrist as you pass him a glass of water, he stills beneath your touch. The first time you say his name without the weight of professionalism, his head tilts ever so slightly. The first time you hold his gaze and refuse to look away, his breath comes just a fraction sharper.

Simon’s not a man who yields. But you see it—the way his hands curl into fists, the way his body tenses when you come too close, as if torn between pulling away and holding you there.

And then, one night, he stays too long.

The office is dim, the lamplight flickering against the mahogany desk. He stands at the threshold, his body a looming silhouette against the doorframe. You don’t ask him why he hasn’t left. Instead, you rise from your chair, your steps slow, deliberate.

“Simon,” you murmur, just his name, letting it settle in the thick silence between you.

He exhales sharply. “I don’t want to be saved.”

You reach him then. Lift your hand, press your palm to his chest, feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. His breath catches, his body rigid beneath your touch. But he doesn’t stop you.

“Then let me ruin you instead,” you whisper.

Something in him breaks.

His hand comes up, grips your jaw—not gentle, not hesitant. His fingers press into your skin, tilting your face up as he looms over you. The heat between you is unbearable, thick with something dark, something hungry.

And when he lifts his balaclava over his nose and kisses you, it is not sweet. It is not soft. It is raw, desperate, filled with the ghosts he never speaks of.

╋━

Simon has you pressed against the edge of your desk, his fingers gripping your waist with a possessive intensity. His body is solid, unwavering, and when he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, there’s something unreadable in his gaze.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, voice low, strained.

You don’t. Instead, your hands find his belt, your fingers unbuckling the leather with measured intent. “I won’t.”

A low sound rumbles from his chest, something between a growl and a sigh. God, the things you do to him without even trying. 

He undresses you with an aching slowness, peeling away each layer as if memorizing the sight of you—every curve, every breath, every shiver beneath his touch. By the time you’re left in nothing but your black lace lingerie, the very set you’d worn with a thought buried too deep to admit, his fingers are already mapping the softness of your skin, rough palms tracing reverent paths along your body.

His mouth follows the path of his hands, teeth grazing your pulse, lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He takes his time, drinking in every sound you make, every shift of your body beneath him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick, fingers ghosting over your thighs before he shoves his jeans and boxers just low enough. His cock springs free, heavy and hard, slapping against his stomach. You barely have time to take in the sight of him—thick, flushed, slick with pearlescent pre—before your breath catches, tongue flicking out instinctively as your lips part.

His hands find the backs of your thighs, and in one swift movement, he lifts you onto the edge of your desk like you weigh nothing, the wood groaning under the shift. You gasp, reaching for purchase, but before you can form his name, his palm presses firm over your mouth. The look in his eyes is all the command you need. No words necessary. Your body melts into his, pliant, yielding.

His hand lingers for a moment before sliding down, fingertips teasing the band of your panties before slipping beneath, dragging them down your legs with deliberate patience. When they hit the floor and his hands part your thighs, a quiet sound rumbles from his chest—a dark, hungry thing that settles deep in your core.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, forehead pressing against yours as he takes himself in hand, guiding his swollen tip through the slick heat of your folds. The drag is slow, torturous, catching at your entrance with every pass. A soft whimper spills from you, need curling tight in your belly. Hardly any foreplay, and you’re already trembling, already half undone.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he mutters, dragging his lips over your jaw, his grip tightening on your thighs. “Y’gonna take me like a good girl, yeah?”

Your breath hitches, a moan slipping past your lips when he finally sinks into you. He moves slowly at first, savoring the way you arch against him, the way your fingers dig into his back. But when you whisper his name—a plea, a prayer—his restraint unravels.

He fucks you deep, hard, like he needs this more than air. His breath is ragged, his grip bruising, his body pressing you into the desk as if trying to brand himself into you. Every thrust drives you further into bliss, each snap of his hips forcing moans from your lips that he greedily swallows with every stolen kiss.

When you come, it’s with his name spilling from your lips, your body tightening around him, pulling him deeper. And when he follows, it’s with a low, broken groan, his body tensing as he buries himself in you, his weight pressing you against the polished wood.

For a long moment, neither of you move. His breath is hot against your skin, his chest rising and falling heavily.

And when he finally speaks, it is not a confession. Not an apology. Just a quiet, desperate truth.

“Don’t fix me.”

[calirph]

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒. all these sentences quotes are based on medieval marriages and the tensions regarding arranged marriages and the notion of affairs and mistresses and the such. warnings for infidelity and anything related to medieval times if that thing is not your thing. change pronouns, name and locations as you see fit.

"You need not love me, but at least grant me the courtesy of discretion."

"Do you whisper her name when you lie beside me?"

"I see the way your eyes follow him. Am I to be a fool in my own home?"

"She is nothing to me, a mere dalliance. You, however, are my wife."

"Did you ever look at me the way you look at her?"

"Tell me, husband, how many times have you left our bed to warm hers?"

"It is not love I ask for, only loyalty."

"My father sold me to you like a horse at auction, and now you expect devotion?"

"If you mean to humiliate me, at least do it behind closed doors."

"A mistress is but a shadow, but a wife is the foundation of a house."

"You come to me only when she has turned you away."

"He looks at you as if he could devour you whole. Does it please you?"

"I swore an oath to you before gods and men. Does that mean nothing?"

"I hear the whispers, I see the stolen glances. Do not insult me by denying it."

"Did she laugh when you told her I was none the wiser?"

"I will not be another meek wife who turns her head and pretends not to see."

"Shall I seek a lover of my own, then? Or is it only men who are granted such indulgences?"

"Would you have wed me if not for my father’s gold?"

"She is your past, but I am your present and future."

"You wear my colors at tourneys, but it is her favor you carry."

"I was raised to know my duty, but that does not mean it does not wound me."

"If you do not love me, at least do not disgrace me."

"Is her kiss sweeter than mine? Do you hold her as you once held me?"

"She is a girl playing at love. I am the woman who bore your children."

"I will not bear a bastard under my roof while my own sons are set aside."

"Your honor, your duty, your house—you throw it all away for a bedwarmer."

"Do you think me blind? Do you think me foolish?"

"I may not be the wife you wanted, but I am the wife you have."

"Tell me truly—when you look at me, do you wish I were her?"

"I have given you everything, and still, it is not enough."

"What has she given you that I have not?"

"Was she worth the shame you bring upon me?"

"If you will not be faithful in love, then be faithful in duty."

"A noble wife is a burden to a man who wishes to be free."

"Do not forget, dear husband, that I am not without allies of my own."

"I did not choose this life, but I will not be shamed within it."

"Does she weep for you when you ride to battle? Or is that still my duty?"

"I have stood by your side in war and in peace, and still, you seek another."

"You call it love. I call it betrayal."

"She can never give you what I can—power, legacy, a name to be remembered."

"I see how she touches you when she thinks no one is looking."

"You have given her your heart, and me, your duty."

"Would you put her in my place if you could?"

"She wears silk and pearls, but I wear your name."

"She may be the one in your bed, but I am the one who will be remembered in history."

"Did she vow to honor you? Did she stand before the gods and swear her life to you?"

"When you tire of her, you will come crawling back to me."

"I will not weep for a man who has forgotten his vows."

"If she carries your child, I will see it drowned before it can steal from my own."

"It is not love she wants, only what she can take from you."

"You think her love is true? Wait until you have nothing left to give her."

"You say you love me, yet I wake in an empty bed."

"How many nights did you lie to my face before I finally saw the truth?"

"The court may gossip, but I will not give them the pleasure of seeing me break."

"I was a fool to think duty would be enough to hold you."

"Even if you leave her, the stain of betrayal will remain."

"I will not let her turn my children against me."

"When your name is dust and your house is ashes, will she still love you?"

"A queen is not so easily replaced, nor a wife so easily forgotten."

"You have made your choice. Now live with it."

30 Prompts and Actions.

A wife catches her husband’s mistress wearing one of her gowns.

A husband returns home late at night, reeking of another woman’s perfume.

A noblewoman warns her husband’s mistress to stay away or suffer the consequences.

A lord brings his mistress to a feast, forcing his wife to sit beside her.

A queen confronts her king about his infidelities before the entire court.

A wife befriends her husband’s mistress, shocking him.

A jealous wife arranges for her husband’s mistress to be sent away in secret.

A husband accuses his wife of seeking a lover of her own in retaliation.

A mistress discovers she is pregnant and fears the wife’s wrath.

A wife secretly bribes her husband’s mistress to leave the city.

A nobleman is forced to marry a woman he does not love while his heart belongs to another.

A woman’s lover is exiled after her husband discovers their affair.

A queen’s bastard half-brother is rumored to be her lover.

A wife replaces the mistress’s perfume with something foul.

A jilted noblewoman plots revenge against the husband who abandoned her.

A king forces his mistress to attend his wife’s coronation.

A husband gifts his mistress jewels that once belonged to his wife.

A noblewoman publicly humiliates her husband’s mistress at a tournament.

A wife secretly arranges for her husband’s mistress to be wed to an old and cruel nobleman.

A husband demands his wife accept his mistress as part of their household.

A young bride watches as her husband kisses another woman at their wedding feast.

A king’s mistress poisons the queen in hopes of replacing her.

A mistress flaunts her power by wearing the queen’s favorite color at court.

A husband swears his fidelity to his wife after she falls ill.

A nobleman returns from war to find his wife in the arms of another.

A queen takes a lover of her own in defiance of her unfaithful husband.

A wife gives birth to a child that does not resemble her husband.

A husband is forced to execute his former lover for treason.

A mistress learns that her lover is to be married and begs him to run away with her.

A scorned wife offers her husband’s mistress a drink—laced with poison.

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Sixteen

Summary: Words are expressed and lives are in endangered.

Notes/Warnings: 18+, violence, threats made, anger is expressed.

ientaculum: breakfast in Ancient Rome.

❤️s, reblogs, comments, feedback, & reblogs are always appreciated. 💐Thank you for reading!💐

You swallowed.

“She, she…” Your voice trailed off as he drew closer.

“Tell me.”

“I am aware, I should not feel a knot of despair, but your mother told me that you and Caracalla had laid with Tertia.”

A smirk curled his lips, your stomach lurched.

“Did she?”

“Yes, Geta. I feel like a fool. It was before you and I, I…”.

The words stumbled as your anguish grew stronger.

“I should not feel as twisted like the ropes that keep the sails steady on a boat.”

You were so caught up in the whirl of those emotions, you were startled as his slender, fingers gripped your chin and brought your face up. All you could do was look into his eyes which were as dark as earth after a heavy rain.

As your name passed his lips, every part of you felt it.

“Yes.” Inwardly, you began to wilt. You had gone too far, you were convinced. You should have shielded your feelings.

“Before I utter anything of my past with Tertia, tell me why you feel this way.”

You pressed your lips together. “If that is what you wish.”

“It is.”

“She had been tucked away in her small room, much like the one you had retrieved me from. When she had taken ill. Many of us feared we’d catch her malady. Blessings from the gods kept it away from us. In her absence, chances were given to us. Mine was the royal box.”

Geta nodded. His hand continued to hold you in place. Oddly, it kept you focused.

“When good health had finally began to wash over her, she searched me out. She had found out I had taken her place in the royal box. She refused to believe me when I told her I had not asked to be placed there. I had not believed in my ability to serve there.”

He made a face, you couldn’t read but you continued.

“I tried to walk away from her, after seeing she wouldn’t listen or believe my words. A few short steps later and she was pulling me to the ground, by my braids. She demanded I tell her…”

His thumb grazed your lips, silencing you before he drew his fingers away and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

Blinking you were swept away from the past you had been speaking of and brought right back to Geta as he spoke again.

“Continue.”

“After that?” You licked your bottom lip. You tasted a trace of his own taste and a mere trifle of the wine he must have been sipping on.

He chuckled. “Yes.”

“Geta, you can be quite the distraction.”

He smirked. “You were in the royal box.”

Your eyes grew as you heard what he said.

“Now continue. We need to this to be addressed.”

“Yes, Geta.” You swallowed. “She wanted to me to tell her everything that took place. Like if I had spoken with either you or Caracalla or even Acasius. Blandus heard the fight, broke it up and this time she was sent to her room as punishment. And I had not seen her till we returned from the country.”

You paused as you caught get looking you over.

“Did she hurt you?”

You shook your head. “The hair pulling stung but no, I was find.”

“Good.”

“Earlier, the shadow that fell over me was because your mother spoke of how you and Caracalla laid with her.”

He rose an eyebrow, earlier he told his mother the truth. He wondered what she was playing at; saying that to his future wife. He pressed his lips together.

“The truth is, she was given to me. I was supposed to explore the more carnal side of life with her. From the beginning, she expressed a preference to Caracalla and his love for blood and violence so I lost interest in her.” He made a face. “Simply I never touched her.”

Your heart skipped. “Truly, Geta?”

“Yes.”

You took his hand and pressed a few kissed to his knuckles. When you glanced at him from under your lashes you caught sight of a smile.

“So, now I wonder if I should remove her from the palace?”

“Does she still share her time with Caracalla?”

He shrugged. “I believe so, not terribly sure.”

“If she pleases him. Leave her.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Of course, what you decide I will follow.”

“My sweet blossom.” He sighed. “It has been a terribly long day.”

You nodded.

“Why don’t I have some baths drawn for us to relax in before the banquet tonight to honor my mother.”

“That would be very pleasing.”

******

The warm water swirled around you. The air was fragrant. You inhaled deeply and felt yourself relax further. Closing your eyes, you rolled your shoulders and let yourself sink further into the water.

Something cold sat against your throat, a gloved hand covered your mouth.

You splashed, “Move and you will do the job for me.” Rasped a voice.

You stilled, though your heart beat like a wild horse.

“Good. You still obey orders.”

You tried to scream against the hand, mere muffles escaped from the edges. The cold object was tighter against your throat. You stopped.

“His end will come. And so will yours.”

The cold object slipped away from your throat and the hand disappeared. You heard a scampering of footfalls but was too terrified to think to look.

You continued to not move till you heard a commotion. Aelia, called out. No longer did you feel rooted where you sat; so you turned towards her scream.

“Stop! You don’t belong here!” She called out.

Feeling as if something came together just then, all that had just happened was realized in you. A sharp tremble came over you, followed by tears.

*******

“Why did you leave her alone?” Geta raged, his face was taunt.

“Geta, she was only getting cloths to dry me.” You said weakly.

Despite, now being back in your garments, oiled and even with a blanket wrapped around you, a chill remained.

His eyes were wild, as he turned to look at you. You could see the unshed tears. Which softened the rage.

“They should have already been in the room!”

“I am terribly sorry, sire.” Aelia, apologized once again and remained kneeling before him.

“Get out of my sight! I don’t wish to see you till ientaculum.”

Aelia, hastily departed from the room and the door closed with a clang. You flinched.

He paced. “We’ll find them. They will wish I put them in the coliseum.”

He raged as he paced across the room. Candles flickered as he passed them. You watched him. Sharply, he turned and came over to you.

“Not many are aware of what happened. The banquet is still being held for my mother. Do you want to attend?”

Your eyes grew, blinking you looked at him. “You’re asking me?”

He nodded. “This is a rare occurrence.”

You watched as emotions washed over him. It kept the words from hurting as much as they were sharp.

He exhaled. “Choices will be shared more. I’m, I’m…”

You shrugged the blanket off your shoulders. Standing, you closed the distance between the two of you.

“Geta.” You breathed and cupped one his anger flushed cheeks. His hand came over yours.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998 @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @aspiringcokewhore @justalittlebitshy

[whosaidthat556]

Ramblings of an obsessive man.

Is the pretty little princess scared of daddy because he only talks about rape and abuse?

I’ll tell you what, how about daddy introduces you to the idea of soft rape?

How about I introduce you to the idea of an obsessive pervert who doesn’t want to treat you like meat but idolises you as something to be treated with care.

That’s what you deserve isn’t it dolly?

You need a daddy who finds you and thinks you’re gods greatest gift to this earth so he stalks you, makes sure no harm ever comes.

But all men have their weaknesses and my weakness is you. My weakness is your pretty eyes and cute little nose. The way you smiled at me awkwardly when you caught my smile as a stranger.

We don’t have to be strangers any longer.

Your body is a temple to me.

But I will still have you. I have to have you. I’ll still get you alone and I’ll still push you against the wall except I’ll put my hand there so you don’t hurt your pretty little face against it. I’ll hold your mouth closed and whisper into your ear how delightful you are to look at, to watch.

Yes moan in my ear as I move your pretty pink panties to the side and slide my cock into you slowly. Let your eyes roll back and let your tongue stutter out “s s st stop” even though you don’t really mean it.

I will take you slowly - carefully pumping my cock into you, every inch - because you are precious.

Your new obsessive daddy who nibbles at your ear and tells you what a good job you’re doing. What a good girl you are and how you make the perfect fleshlight. Pushing every inch of my thick cock deep into your hole and keeping it there, having you kick around on it, wriggling to make it deeper because you know it’s where you belong.

Gently kissing your neck and telling you I’ll always love the way you taste.

Rape doesn’t have to be violent, not when it’s you.

[websterss]

AT THE END OF THE DAY — JOAQUÍN TORRES

REQUESTS: Joaquín Torres: the reader is his girlfriend. He is always overprotective of you. One day, you're in great danger, and he has to save you with his falcon title rn. After saving you, he holds you the entire time. @tsunchani

WARNING(S): angst, fluff, slight gunshot wound

WORD COUNT: 3,642

PAIRING: Joaquín Torres x fem!Reader

A/N: I've been having a hard time finding my writer's voice again and Emy told me to just take the leap and post my fics. So I hope you guys enjoy the story.

MASTERLIST

"How'd you even manage to sit us front row?" Sam questioned as he watched Joaquín walk down the white house's halls with ease and familiarity.

"Her..." Joaquín's grin grew as you spotted him coming your way. You dismissed the agent you were discussing a report with and made your way over to him and Sam. Sam was stunned into silence as he watched the interaction between you two fall into place.

"Hermosa." Beautiful. Joaquín muttered softly with a chuckle as he pulled you into a quick kiss. Your faint giggle makes his heart flood with warmth.

Oh. Her.

Sam mouthed as he looked away from the public display of affection.

"Ya mero terminas?" Are you almost finished? Joaquín asks you.

"Yeah, I just need to give a quick debrief then I'm all yours. Oh, which reminds me..." You hold your finger up as you pickpocket two clearance badges. Two red lanyards now dangled before Joaquín as he grabs them from you. "You'll be needing these if you even want to think about sitting in for the president's presentation."

"Sweet!" Joaquín ha-ha's as you place it over his neck and then extended one out to Sam who was waiting to be finally introduced.

Your smile fades as your eyes widen with realization. "Oh my god-"

"Mi amor, you don't need to-" My love.

"Holy shit it's...I mean you're Captain America!" You look over at Joaquín for reassurance. The nod he gives you only further sends you into fangirl mode. "It's Captain America Joaquín..."

"Most people just call me Sam, sweetheart." Sam chuckled as he extended his hand out to shake yours.

"I'm a huge fan. Thank you...for your service I mean, and to this country and saving the world." You cringe at yourself. Joaquín bit back a smile as he looked between you two. “That– sounded a whole lot better in my head.”

"Sam this is my fiancé, Y/n. She has level 10 clearance and the President's not second but most requested personnel. And can kick my ass any given day." You furrow your brows at him, smacking him on the chest with the suck of your teeth.

"Hi..." You grow timid under Sam's gaze. "Y/n." You gesture to yourself.

"You have a fiancé man?" Sam looks over to Joaquín with an incredulous gaze.

Joaquín hums and lifts your hand to display the ring he proposed with. You grin and point with your finger at your ring.

"Look at you, man!" Sam's gaze flickers between your two grinning faces. If golden retriever and innocence were a person the two of you embodied it perfectly. "I can see it." Sam nodded to himself as he walked ahead of you two.

Your brows furrowed in question as you watched him walk off. "See what?"

"I don’t know. I’ll ask him about it later. I’ll see you there okay.” Cupped your face and sighed into the kiss he planted on you again. Your shoulders fell as you melted into the kiss. You raised your hand and gently cupped his cheek's right side. Though any passerby could distinguish the rate at which the kiss was leading, you took the initiative and pushed him away, placing your hand on his chest gently. He huffed with a huge grin as you swiped your thumb gently across his lower lip. Trying to rid him of your lipstick. More so the obvious smeared coat of your lipstick on him. You laughed as you continued to rub it off, even grossing him out by licking your thumb lightly.

“Hold on I missed a spot!”

“Mi amor, esta bien. Just leave it. Let them know who I belong to.” My love, it’s okay. He cheekily bit back a laugh.

“Who is rubbing off on you, trouble? Oh my god. Go get out of here before you're late,” You shake your head in disbelief. "or I'll beat you up."

“Bossy,” Joaquín mutters to himself. You feign a step forward your fist feigned, raised up like you’ll sock his shoulder. He laughs as your imitation tactic, pretending to flinch as he laughs at you, walking then to where Sam is hovering, lingering against the wall as he watches you two. The two idiots, happily in love. He couldn’t fight the grin that made its way onto his face.

“Te quiero!” I love you. Joaquín calls after you. You grin and look back over your shoulder.

“Muchisimo!” So much. You exclaim. The click of your heels fades with that of your turned back. You made a left at the end of the hall and then you were out of his sight. Joaquín couldn’t help the swell of his heart soaring. He grins down at his shoes and then looks up timidly at Sam. He rolls his eyes at the chagrin and cheeky smirk he receives.

“So when you said you weren’t wanting to look for a relationship-“

“-I was referring to no longer needing to look.” Joaquín clarified, pocketing his hands. “Cause I got her…”

“And here I was like a jackass trying to set you up. I’m sorry man.”

“It’s all good. We laughed about it the other day.” Joaquín gestured over his shoulder.

“So it’s that serious huh…you happy?” Sam slapped him across his left shoulder. Still asking even though he had a whole show of your love and affection towards one another.

Joaquín squinted at the question. His grin widened. “Was the ring not enough evidence?” He teases. “I can call her back here if you want. I’ll even dip her this time!”

“No, no need. Damn…I’m happy for you Joaquín.” Sam clasped his shoulder. “You know doing this sort of thing for so long. It gets lonely after a while. Hell, even I’ll admit it. When you’re too far into the job, into the crime-fighting and saving, you forget about the one thing you’re dying to go after…”

“What’s that?”

“Love, my man. And you hit the jackpot. You hold on to her as long as you can alright. I know with the jobs you both do there’s bound to be a few bumps in the road but hold on to that. Cause in the end that’s the only thing that’s gonna matter.”

“She’s my everything. Mi todo.”

“Yeah? Alright kid, hold onto your todo and don’t let go. Come one we gotta go greet Mr. P-R-E-S-I-D-E-N-T.” Sam spelled out with a smirk. A bit of a swagger in his step. Joaquín’s laugh broke out as he fell in step with Sam

-

Sam had clocked all the closest exists as soon as he and Joaquín had sat down with Isaiah. He also had noticed the subtle flickering gazes you spared Joaquín long ways from the other side of the room. Your head slightly tilted to the right to meet his gaze every once and a while. You radiated a sweet grin as you switched your surveillance back onto the President.

Everything had been going great until Isaiah stood up. You watched as he flung one of your agents against the curtains. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at the glass the President was inside.

You hurried forward raising your hand to your ear to call for backup when you clocked another man reach for his belt. "He's got a gun!" You yelled and slammed your weight into his side. A shot rang as soon as your bodies collided. Then panic in the room escalated as everyone began to run and try to leave through the exits. The glass above the President had shattered causing him to duck and shield his head.

Joaquín's fight mode kicked in the second the first shot rang out. He set his eyes out for you, keeping low as he started making his way through the panic of people.

“Y/n!” When he found you, you and the man who shot the gun were staring off, each of your heads turning to the flung weapon on the carpet. You lunged for it first. “Y/n!”

Joaquín had followed after you, but he flinched back when another shot rang out. You and the man both froze. Joaquín stood behind you not knowing whether you had been the one hit. But when the man knelt in front of you toppled over, he felt his shoulders fall in relief.

When the man fell, Joaquín rushed over to you. He pulled you back and wrapped his free arm around your waist as his other hand came up to your face to inspect you.

"You okay? You okay?" He muttered as he gently cupped your chin and turned you so you were facing him. It took you a second to register it was him. You nodded in response. You glanced over his shoulder watching in horror as Isaiah threw another agent.

"I-Isaiah?" You gasped, you looked around watching another one of your men escort the President out of there. It was pure chaos. His heart was still racing. He pressed his head to yours quickly before having you both stand up. He looked around the room, eyes falling to Sam. Their eyes met in a silent conversation.

"Get her out of here!" Sam ordered. "Both of you!"

"Let's go." Joaquín didn't hesitate to grab your hand, pulling you through the sea of people. He pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, his gaze set on an exit.

When he finally broke free of the throng of people, he stayed low and kept you close. You hadn't seen his counter-surveillance kick in since the Flag Smashers, ensuring your safety and his at all costs. However, your resistance against his grip on your hand made it difficult to keep moving forward. He looked down at your interlocked hands and could register your hesitance to continue with him. "I could see your gears turning, what?"

You looked back from where you came from, then looked back to his gaze. "I'm secret service Joaquín-"

His free hand came up to grasp your chin as he lifted your gaze to his. His jaw was locked as he stared you down, not wanting to hear what you were about to say. "No-"

"I got my orders the same as you do." You defended.

"I don't care about orders." Joaquín shook his head as his grip on your chin tightened. "Your job isn't more important than your safety."

"It's the President of the United States!"

"And it's you. There are a lot more people who can protect the President. He'll be fine. Trust me." The sound of distant gunshots made Joaquín's grip on you tighten.

You closed your eyes. Knowing he'd argue with you until you subjected him to the couch for the night. He never knew when to stop prioritizing you over the world. You loved and hated him for it.

"Just listen to me." His grip on your chin eased as his thumb brushed your cheek. "Por favor, mi amor." Please, my love. He knew he was using the right words that pulled on your heartstrings. "Just think about it but not right now 'cause we got to go-" He had looked up in time to see a geared personnel aim their gun right at the two of you. It unsettled him that he had grabbed your waist, tugging you closer as he dropped and rolled the both of you to the ground. Your scream hit his ears as the shot hit the spot where you were previously standing.

"Oh my god!" You screech as you both scramble up on your feet.

The two of you started booking it when shots were fired in your direction again. You were both running low toward the exit when one last shot hit your arm and stopped you in your tracks. You cried out as you grabbed at your shoulder as you fell, but it was enough for you to be vulnerable. Joaquín turned around when he heard your wince and the sound of you collapsing. His blood ran cold as you fell to your knees. "No! Hey no, you're okay. Come on!"

"S-So that's what that- f-feels like, good to know. What the fuck!" You moaned out in pain as Joaquín helped you to your feet again.

"That's good you're still cracking wise on me. Always a good sign." He tried to keep you calm to keep you focused. His heart rate had spiked and he felt his own blood boiling as he watched your wound bleed. His only thought was getting you as far away from danger as possible so he could tend to your arm as soon as you were safe.

"Shut the hell up, Joaquín." You gritted your teeth. He finally saw the front doors come into view once you rounded another corner.

He knew your tone too well to know not to comment back, but he chuckled to himself as you neared the exit. "Just trying to keep you in good spirits, sweetheart." His grip on your waist tightened protectively as he started pushing you forward faster. "Almost there, I got you-"

"Stop right there! Hands up!" You and Joaquín froze as the S.W.A.T team pointed the ends of their guns at you.

Your heart dropped as the team came into view, and the moment he felt your body stiffen, his jaw clenched. A silent curse passed his mind as his right hand went up slowly and he took a step forward to block you from the threat. "Don't shoot. Lieutenant Joaquín Torres, Sam Wilson's second in command, sir. Y/n Y/l/n, secret service. She needs medical attention." He gestured to himself then at you.

"Joaquín, it's a shoulder wound…" You scoff quietly at him.

"They don't know that," He whispered back to you, his right hand remained raised in the air.

The captain's eyes narrowed as he observed your body language with a hint of suspicion. Then his gaze flickered down lower to your shoulder. There was a growing stain of blood staining the sleeve of your blazer. "We got a medic on site. You can be examined there." The captain informed. "Let them through!"

"Thank you," Joaquín said in passing as he curled your arm around his shoulder once more.

The two of you passed the armed men swiftly. Once you were past them, Joaquín picked up his pace a little more as he hurried you outside. He could see the mentioned medic site and caught the attention of a first responder by raising two fingers in the air swiftly. He walked over to a bed and set you down on it, slowly uncurling your good arm from around him.

"Injury?" The woman came forward, inserting blue gloves over her hands.

"Upper arm. A gunshot wound, she's been hit in the shoulder." Joaquín answered, stepping back as the EMT gently pulled your blazer back to reveal the extent of the gunshot wound. You winced as the fabric was pulled against your wound.

"The bullet will need to be removed. What's your pain like?"

“On a scale of one to ten: like I want to punch him." You groan as you grit your teeth, feeling her poke and prod around the wound.

"That's not rare." She smiled at you trying to ease the tension you were holding. "Most patients in your current situation say they want to strangle someone so I'd say you're gonna be alright."

You hum in response, but you still keep your eyes locked on somewhere else. "Is there any way you can check her head for a concussion-" You both look back to Joaquín. "She's not usually the joke-cracking type." Joaquín teased.

You roll your eyes as you look back to the medical. "Ignore him. He's overprotective of my well-being."

She laughs at the banter between the two of you as she moves to clean up the wound area and apply some numbing solution to the surrounding area. The moment the antiseptic wipe comes into contact with your skin, your shoulders tense from the sting. The medic notices your reaction. She then proceeded to pull out forceps, then turned to you. "I'm sorry, but this is probably going to hurt."

"Well, how much worse can it get?" You wince and turn to look at Joaquín. He walked up to the bed and pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand reaching for your right hand instantly.

He bit back a laugh as he smirked at you, but his concern was obvious. His hand twitched as if it had a subconscious desire to pull you in closer. The medic then began to prod the bullet wound, causing you to gasp and wince.

"I promise it'll be over soon…" She tried to comfort you. "This is the worst part."

"I thought getting shot was the worst part?"

She chuckled, "That's a given." While you focused your mind on something else to try and ease the pain, she continued to poke and prod around the wound. She found her mark and then pulled out the bullet swiftly. The pain lasted for a few more seconds because of her fast work, but after that, you began to feel a numbing tingling sensation. "There we go." She nodded.

"You did good, mi amor," Joaquín reassured you as he gripped your hand again. "That wasn't so bad.

You took deep breaths as your heart rate calmed back down. You managed a smile as you looked up at him. The medic then started to disinfect the wound and bandage it up to stop it from bleeding.

“Yeah cause a gunshot wound is nothing compared to having your orbital broken.” You lean in his chest.

“Broken orbital.” The medic questions.

“Long story.” You brush it off.

“You’re good to go. Take these,” She hands you some painkillers. “Get some rest, and make sure to keep changing the dressings to reduce the chance of infection.”

“Will do, thanks for everything.” Your face shows your gracious smile.

“Take care you two.” She dips her chin in goodbye before rushing over to another patient.

“Well that was fun.” Joaquín quips as he walk over to stand in front of you. His grin widening as he brushes back some baby hairs.

“Our best date yet.” You chuckle.

"Mm, I think I prefer the one where we skip work tomorrow and lay in bed all day." He wrapped his arms around you gently, pulling you just a little closer to him. "Besides, I thought you loved a bit of adventure in our life," He teased as he ran his nose along the side of your cheek.

"Yes but you know not like this, Joaquín." You sighed into his touch.

He took a few deep breaths to calm his heart, not wanting to admit that seeing you injured had terrified him, and he was trying to play it cool. He just had to keep reminding himself you were alright.

"I can hear you spiraling." You breathe out a faint laugh

"Not spiraling. I'm totally fine, and-" He fumbled over his words as he met your gaze again. He pressed his forehead against yours, taking deep breaths to steady himself. "I'm spiraling cause you scared the hell out of me."

"I never mean to. You know that. It comes with our jobs, Joaquín. Our lives are constantly on the line."

"Yeah, I know that." He sighed as his hands moved to rest on your waist. "Doesn't make it any easier though…"

"I don't think it ever will."

"No, I suppose it won't…" His thumbs idly rubbed back and forth along your waist, and the silence that settled between you grew thick.

"You can't save us from everything…" You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

He hummed and closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled back. Despite being comforted by your touch, he couldn't shake off the fear that had settled in his chest.

"Can I ask you something?"

He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he wanted to voice his worries. But ultimately, he decided it was better to get it off his chest.

He took a deep breath, "Do you ever consider… quitting? All of it?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to upset you.

"No, though somethings I imagine what a life of peace looks like. Though I wouldn't want to start that reality without you. Until we're both ready for that cliche of white picket fence life. You don't want to give that up right now though, I can see how much you love the thrill and adventure, so neither do I."

His expression softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He knew you knew him so well, which made him love you even more.

"You're right, I don't want to give it up right now." He admitted. "But the idea of a quiet life does sound nice, especially if it means spending more time with you without worrying that something could happen to you every second." He murmured as his hands shifted to rest on your hips. "But it is just a job at the end of the day."

"One you love." You teased.

"Oh, I do love it…" Joaquín smirked as he dipped his head to press a kiss to the soft skin of your neck. His gaze shifted to look at your bandaged shoulder, a faint frown appearing on his face just for a moment. He lifted his hand slowly and gently brushed his fingers along the edges of the bandage, careful not to cause any pain to your wound.

"But…" He whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "I love you more, mi amor." He added as he pressed a sweet kiss to your skin once more.

[batboysanonymous]

Always, My Darling

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, love means letting someone else carry the weight—if only for a moment.

───────────────────────────────

The City of Starlight shimmered below, its beauty lost on you as you sat hunched over your desk in the House of Wind. The towering windows framed a sky painted in hues of amethyst and gold, stars beginning to prick the canvas of twilight. But your attention was tethered to the parchment scattered across the polished mahogany, each document a reminder of the endless responsibilities piling atop your already strained mind.

Correspondence from Illyrian war camps, trade reports delayed by early snows, diplomatic letters from Day Court—all demanding answers only you could give. Your fingers trembled slightly as you scribbled notes, the quill dragging ink across the page with more force than necessary. The tension in your shoulders felt like iron chains, each knot a testament to sleepless nights and days filled with obligations you couldn’t escape.

Because you were the High Lady of the Night Court.

And High Ladies didn’t fall apart.

You told yourself that as you ignored the ache behind your eyes, the burning tightness in your chest, the way your heart raced even when sitting still. You told yourself that as you replayed the faces of your family in your mind—Azriel, his shadows darker than usual, haunted by demons he wouldn’t name. Cassian, hiding the stiffness in his movements after an injury, his bravado thinner than usual. Mor, her radiant smile not quite reaching her eyes lately.

You worried for them all. Poured yourself into fixing their burdens. You could handle it. You had to handle it.

But somewhere in the hollow ache of your heart, you wondered how long you could keep pretending you weren’t drowning.

You didn’t hear Rhysand enter.

But the bond between you whispered of his presence before his footsteps echoed across the room. It was a subtle shift, like the air itself recognized him before your senses caught up—a warmth that curled around your frayed edges, threading through the cracks you tried so hard to conceal.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stood in the doorway, his violet eyes drinking you in, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. You didn’t have to look up to feel his gaze—sharp, perceptive, the kind of stare that saw too much.

The furrow between your brows. The restless tapping of your foot. The way your fingers twisted your wedding ring—a nervous habit he’d noticed long ago.

And then he moved.

Swift, graceful, predatory in the way only he could be.

You barely had time to react before strong arms swept you from your chair, your body lifted effortlessly against the solid warmth of his chest.

"Rhys!" you squeaked, clutching at his shoulders as papers fluttered to the floor like snowflakes. "What are you—put me down!"

His response was a soft hum, his lips finding your temple in a kiss so gentle it unraveled something tight in your chest.

"I’ve seen enough," he murmured against your skin, his voice a velvet caress.

You squirmed in his hold, your protests weak and half-hearted. "I have work to do. The Solstice is next week, and the logistics—"

"Hush, darling." He tightened his grip, one arm cradling your thighs, the other wrapped securely around your back, fingers brushing dangerously close to the curve of your breast. His wings flared slightly behind him, a silent warning that he wasn’t about to let you go.

Despite your wriggling, your body betrayed you—melting into the warmth of him, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your ear. By the time he carried you into the bathroom, your protests had faded into soft sighs, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck.

He set you down on the cool marble counter, his hands lingering at your waist before sliding up to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, tilting your head so your gaze met his.

And gods, those eyes.

Violet, flecked with starlight and shadows, filled with so much love it made your heart ache.

"Rhys," you whispered, trying to summon your earlier indignation. "What are we doing? We don’t have time for this."

His smile was soft, knowing.

"Darling, I don’t mean to hush you, but… hush."

Your mouth fell open slightly, indignant words caught on the tip of your tongue. But he was already leaning in, peppering soft kisses across your face—your temple, the slope of your nose, the corner of your mouth. Each one a silent plea, a prayer, a promise.

"You, my mesmerizing mate, are too stressed out for your own good," he murmured between kisses. "I don’t want you to worry about a single thing tonight. I’ll take care of it."

The words unraveled you more than you cared to admit.

"But I can handle it," you blurted, your voice trembling. "I’m the High Lady. This is my duty. I know what I’m doing."

Rhys didn’t argue.

He just listened.

As you spilled excuses, listing responsibilities like armor, he rubbed slow, soothing circles into your tense shoulders, his lips brushing against your skin in feather-light touches.

"S’alright, baby," he whispered eventually, his voice rough with emotion. "I know. I know you can handle it. I know you’re brilliant and capable and strong."

His hands framed your face again, his thumbs catching the tear you hadn’t realized had escaped.

"But if I’m being honest… sometimes I get overwhelmed too."

The admission hit you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs.

"And when that happens," he continued softly, "do you know what I need?"

You shook your head, your throat tight.

"I need you." His voice was raw, a fragile truth laid bare. "I just need you close to me."

Tears welled in your eyes, the dam breaking under the weight of his love.

"So will you please take this bath with me, doll?" he asked, his grin softening the ache in your chest. "I’ll even feed you chocolate-covered strawberries and give you a massage with that lavender oil you love so much."

You didn’t bother pretending anymore.

The smallest quirk of your lips was all the permission he needed.

With a snap of his fingers, both your clothes vanished, and before you could protest, he was lowering you into a warm bath infused with lavender and bergamot. The heat enveloped you, pulling a sigh from your lips.

Rhys slid in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his chest. His hands moved with reverence, massaging your scalp, fingers threading through your hair with practiced ease. He let the conditioner sit while his thumbs worked the knots from your shoulders, coaxing soft, content sounds from you.

The tension bled from your muscles, replaced by warmth and the steady beat of his heart against your back.

After rinsing you off, he wrapped you in a plush towel, carrying you to your bed—the one designed for his large Illyrian wings. He tucked you under the soft blankets, his body molding around yours, wings cocooning you both in warmth and safety.

"You always take care of everyone else," he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "Let me take care of you."

And for the first time in too long, you let him.

You let yourself be held. Loved. Cherished.

Sleep claimed you, soft and irresistible, as Rhysand’s voice was the last thing you heard:

"I’ve got you, my darling. Always."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊

Taglist: @willowpains

[shortbcofkoffee]

Prequal to this post.

It's a bad idea to do this on a fire escape, Tim thinks to himself. Someone could look up and see, we could get caught. Either way, though, he's not gonna stop Bernard's hands from running up and down his sides. He won't stop him from leaning into him and roughly kissing his lips.

It's good then, he continues to think as Bernard's hands travel lower to his backside, that my cape covers most of me. No one can see what he's doing and even if they could, seeing someone make out would be the most normal thing they'd see tonight. This being Gotham and all.

"Bern," he mumbled into his boyfriend's lips when he felt him give his ass a squeeze.

"Hm?"

"We're outside."

Bernard made an understanding sound and moved his hands back to Tim's sides. And thank God, he thinks again, for dancebelts. Because Bern's hands are soft but firm.

"Maybe we should go inside then," Bernard suggests as he moves from Tim's lips to his jaw.

Tim sighed. He wanted to but he knew if he got in bed with Bernard he'd never get back to the cave. "No, 'cause I'll never leave."

"I wouldn't mind that," Bernard smiled.

One of Tim's hands moves from Bern's back to bury itself in blonde hair. "I know you wouldn't. But then someone will have to come find me. Could walk in on us or something."

"Yeah, that'd suck."

Bernard returned to Tim's lips and Tim melted into him. It's rough and fast and Bernard is holding Tim like he'd disappear. He moves them from the brick wall to the railing. Tim lifts himself up, sits on the railing and wraps his legs around Bern's waist. Bernard's hands settle low on Tim's hips and his thumbs run up and down the V-line to his crotch.

God, did Tim want to go inside and wreck Bernard's bed. Honestly, he wouldn't mind if they did it out here, but he needed to go soon, or else... Bernard stops moving. His breath hitches and Tim pulls away in worry. Bernard's eyes are wide and his expression is a mix of terror and embarrassment. Tim follows his eyeline to the building behind them.

Fuck.

Batman was there. Staring at them. Tim climbed off the railing and glared back. A voice came through his comms.

"Red Robin, report back to the cave."

Tim groaned. "Fine. Give me a second." He turned back to Bernard. "You should probably go back inside. I think Batman's mad."

"You think," Bernard hisses as he climbs back in his window. "Ti- Red, he's gonna kill me!"

Tim cups one of his boyfriend's cheek in his hand when he's finally inside the window. "He won't kill you. I mean, I'm gonna get in trouble, but you'll be fine." He leaned in and planted one last quick kiss on Bernard's lips. "G'night."

"Night."