#he can’t get the attention all the time

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: omegaverse, omega reader, careless alpha husband, marriage problems, poor communication

♡ GN reader

He’s a little reckless sometimes—not always paying attention to the feelings of those around him, but he means well, you’re sure of that.

He’s just a little high-strung, is all—doesn’t really have the time to think things through.

He’s always been like that—ready for just about anything and everything anyone would throw his way, and just sort of expecting everyone else to be onboard. He’s an Alpha, after all—it’s not in their nature to worry or look back.

All your life, he’s been the leader—all you others could do was chase after him and just hope on your life to keep up. And as an Omega, you were comfortable like that—with having someone to follow. It felt natural to you—safe and good and correct.

But when he started courting you, you admit being a bit skeptical—weren’t sure if it would work the same way, not sure if it even could. Being mates is different, after all. You’re supposed to be in tune with one another, and you weren’t sure if you’d be heard or just end up being bulldozed.

But you figured, since you weren’t too big on making decisions anyway, that you’d just go along with it, and it would be fine. You’d put your trust in him and follow his lead, and maybe that would be enough.

And it was. Everything worked out perfectly—for the most part. You married in the spring and moved into your new house the day after. He’s a good husband and nice man, deserving of the respect he garners, and he’s successful. A true Alpha. Perfect on all fronts.

What more could an Omega ask for?

Well… suppose it wouldn’t hurt if he listened sometimes. Or no, that’s not fair. You’d have to speak up first in order for him to listen. Still, you think… he should be able to tell without you saying anything. 

You don’t even know what you’re complaining about, really… It's not as if he’s done anything overtly bad. You just feel… well, you suppose you just feel a little left out. He’s so dominating in everything he does—you just end up being swept along in the process. He doesn’t ask for your input, nor do you give it. Things just happen the way he wants them to before you’ve even agreed. You don’t even think he recognizes it himself, how he makes decisions you’re supposed to be making together on your behalf.

He bought the house without telling you, for starters. But it was a wedding present and a nice surprise, so you’re not mad about it exactly. But given how big a step it was, it still feels strange to have been on the outside. Then he sprung that vacation on you and even called your boss to schedule your leave—only a month after your honeymoon, no less. Not to mention the wedding itself—how all the arrangements were already done before you’d even sat down with the wedding planner, of whom was his choice. In some ways, or in many ways, you felt as if you were just a part of the decor.

But it’s not as if you aren’t happy—because you are. And it’s not as if you don’t love him—because you do. It’s just well… You know it’s not exactly fair, but you’re beginning to feel a little taken advantage of… as if he doesn’t even care about you or your thoughts and feelings as long as you’re keeping him happy.

But you can’t keep feeling that way without telling him, you decide. You’re sure none of it is his intention. You’ve never taken an interest in decision-making, so why would he think you’d want to? For all his prowess, you can’t exactly expect him to read your mind, either.

So, tonight’s the night you’ll finally say something. You want to be included. If he’s hiring a new maid, you wish to be a part of it. If he’s buying a new TV, you want to help pick out which one. If he’s taking you out to dinner, you want to be informed, preferably beforehand. Even if all he’s doing is getting his hair cut, you want him to tell you about it.

“Hello, welcome home,” you greet once he staggers into the bedroom, looking tired yet no less neatly put together than always.

“Hello, my sweet,” he mirrors, voice gruff with the toils of the day as he marches over to plant a kiss on your cheek.

It’s late. You’ve already gotten dressed for bed, having been just about ready to cut your losses and postpone the talk for tomorrow.

He could have told you he was working after hours. No, he should have.

You were just about to switch off the night lamp and go to sleep—but find yourself feeling redetermined now.

This was just another one of those things you can bring up as an example, after all.

“I-”

“God, I missed you today. Felt like work took an eternity,” he groans, hurriedly removing his suit with sloppy movements, throwing his jacket on the floor, shirt quickly following before he’s back on you. “Give me those pretty lips—I’m starving.”

He takes your mouth with his, one hand steadying him against the bedframe while the other works on unbuckling his belt, hunching over where you lay.

You put your hands on his bare chest to distance him, asking, “Can it wait a bit?”

He drops his pants on the floor and climbs on top of you, face buried in your neck while muttering, “No, not really. Been waiting all day.”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something-” you try again, to no use.

“No talking tonight—none, except pillow talk.”

He says it with a smile. You feel it against your neck—his teeth and tongue and the heat of his voice.

You’re sure he means it playfully, and yet you freeze, feeling a little sick.

“But I really need to—”

“Omegas are supposed to obey their Alphas, you know.” 

His touch isn’t rough, but it’s not without force, but more than that it’s those words that make your heart jump and then stutter. 

You hold your breath, but it goes unnoticed by him or maybe ignored—you’re not sure which. It shocks you—scares you even, but then, following the original freight, your heart sinks, and you feel nothing but disheartened and disappointed.

And then, even a little angry.

“Oh…” you mumble, lying still beneath his onslaught. “I guess I thought I was yours ‘cause I wanted to be, but I see now…” Your brows cinch with many feelings between them. “I had it wrong.”

He halts then—struck with a sudden pang of guilt maybe, or perhaps just puzzled by your words. Whatever the case, the former rush he’d been in is gone, and he looks down at you—finally.

“What? What do you mea-”

“No, no, never mind. I was out of line,” you brush him off—harshly, and he blanches, going rigid. “Do what you want—you’re the Alpha, after all—so by all means.”

You turn your head to the side and lie still.

Eyes prickly and throat tight, you push the words out all stiff and hoarse, “I have no right to stop you, and even if I did, it’s not like I could. But who cares, right? Nothing I think matters.”

“Baby, you know that’s not what I mea–” he tries.

“Then what did you mean?” you all but bark, snapping to face him again. But however pointed your glare is, there’s no mistaking the now visible tears brimming in your eyes.

Seeing it, he stiffens even more, undaring to move. Trying to make his voice softer, “Don’t cry.”

But his acts of comfort are far from sufficient.

“Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?” 

Good, you think—it better. He made you uncomfortable when he ignored your wishes, so why shouldn’t you? And ignore him in turn?

“Funny that, isn't it?” you continue. “The only thing I have against you is a pesky few tears. Would you like me to turn around, maybe?” 

You know you’re guilt-tripping him—and you’re not sure why or if it’s the right thing to do, but even so, you couldn’t find it in you to stop either—no, not until you had punished him, for some reason.

“If you hide my face in a pillow, maybe you won’t hear it either–”

“Please stop,” he finally begs, bowing his head. “I’m sorry.”

You stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what he’s apologizing for. And though the thought of asking him to clarify strikes you, it doesn’t feel important. Those weren’t the words you wanted to hear.

You sigh then, trying to calm yourself down. “I don’t need you to be sorry. I need you to see me—to listen—I need you to respect me.”

He looks up again, this time with a deeply remorseful expression warping his face. “I do. I’m sorry-”

“Really?” you question. It's a little harsh, you admit, but it's what you need, “Then get off me and go sleep downstairs.”

He’s rigid under your admonishment. Shocked by your claims, yet begrudgingly ashamed by the truth in them. 

You were right. He wasn’t paying attention. And by the looks of it, he hasn’t been paying attention for a while.

 “Okay,” he ends up agreeing.

Sliding off the bed like a shunned dog, he walks back to the door he’d only just come through a moment ago.

Keeping a hand on the doorknob, he looks back—head still bowed.

“Good night.”

You feel a little bad about how it turned out, but you steal yourself. You wanted to be alone right now. In fact, you think it would do you both some good.

“We'll talk tomorrow. Good night.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Hawks, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Baro, Aiku ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[eelliotss]

— Borrowed time, part 3

‼️Caleb x reader x Sylus. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!

Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely does not stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.

“Had you paid a little more attention, you would’ve known I hated the thunder too.”

word count = 5.2k

i appreciate all likes, comments, reblogs, and asks. i may not reply to all of them, but i want you to know that i reread them over and over 🥺

The choir of rain showering down envelops your whole world. Holding yourself close, you hug yourself away from the constant roar of the thunders.

You did not notice the man watching— his gaze lingering on the drenched rag of a person curled up on the roadside.

Another roar tears through the sky, clawing at your chest, sending tremors down your spine. With each shallow breath, you silently pray for the nightmare to be over, to wake up under warm covers in the safety of your own room.

He probably saw the state you’re in—the haziness in your unfocused eyes and the way you blink, once, twice, sluggish and distant. A sigh leaves his lips as he kneels down to your level. With one gloved hand holding his helmet, the other lightly flicks your forehead.

The flick is light—too light for the weight crushing your chest, yet enough to tether you back to reality and bring some focus back into your gaze.

You slowly raise your gaze, meeting his crimson orbs. Unwavering. Sharp. Studying.

His lips twitch—not quite a smirk, not quite concern.

“You look like hell,” he states as he tilts his head, studying you like you’re an amusing puzzle.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your lips tremble, but no words form.

Sylus exhales, slow and deliberate—not quite a sigh, but something close.

“Can you get up?”

Silence. Only the sound of the rain, the low hum of the storm, and the quiver of your breath fill the air.

He clicks his tongue, running a hand through his drenched silver locks before shaking off the excess water. Then, without a word, he drops his helmet onto your head, fingers swift and practiced as he secures the strap beneath you chin

The sudden weight startles you. But before you can react, you’re lifted.

A sharp gasp catches in your throat as his arms hook effortlessly around you, pulling you up from the cold ground and onto the sleek leather seat.

He swings his leg over the bike, boots steady against the pavement. The engine purrs beneath you, low and commanding.

“Hold tight.”

The words are simple. A command. A warning.

Your hands instinctively clutch his waist, gripping the fabric of his jacket. The sudden yank pushes you flush against him.

But through the turmoil of it all—through the howling wind, the biting cold, the chaos swallowing the whole world as you ride through the roads a little too fast—beneath your fingers, beneath the soaked fabric,

he’s warm.

The contrast is sharp. The world untamed, screaming, tearing everything apart. The situation rushes past you, too quick, too unreal.

Through it all, you—fractured, weightless, drowning— hold onto him— steady, unshaken—like he’s the only rope tying you to reality.

•

“What’s your room number?” he asks as the bike comes to a stop and the deep rumble of the engine fades.

By the time you’ve returned to the resort, the campfire is long gone—reduced to nothing but damp coals and the ghost of laughter lingering in the air.

People scattered, rushed towards shelter, their hurried footsteps splashed against puddles. The storm has chased everyone indoors.

Except for you and him.

You’re still clutching onto him, fingers curled around the fabric of his jacket. The lingering warmth of his body beneath your touch feels foreign.

“Well?” Sylus’s voice cuts through the silence.

You blink, realizing you haven’t answered.

Your lips part, allowing a light whisper to leave your lips.

“409.”

Without a word, he starts walking.

Perhaps it’s because you did not want to be left alone in the darkness of the night again, or perhaps it was because the sudden loss of warmth prompted your body to move on its own.

You trail behind him through the dimly lit halls, the faint hum of electricity buzzing through the silence. Water drips from your clothes, leaving a trail behind as you shiver against the cold air-conditioned corridor.

You steal a glance at him. Sylus walks ahead, hands shoved into his pockets, completely unfazed. As if he didn’t just find you curled up on the side of the road, as if you’re not drenched and shaking beside him.

The two of you stop in front of your door.

You fumble for the key card, fingers trembling slightly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from everything that’s happened tonight.

“Shh, don’t be scared.”

Soft coos seep through the door.

“I’m here, pipsqueak. I’m here.”

Soft giggles follow the gentle whispers.

“You’ve always stayed with me on days like these, holding me just like this whenever there were thunders.” Her voice is small and fragile—like something meant to be cherished, protected.

Your fingers hover the doorknob, frozen in place.

The storm rages on, harmonizing with the soft giggles on the other side of the door.

You stood there paralyzed, your mind too tired to register whatever it is that your heart is going through.

Sylus leans against the doorframe, watching you hesitate. Waiting.

“So? You gonna go in, or are we just standing here all night?” He finally asks, voice low and edged with amusement.

Your lack of response earns slow exhale from him.

Before you can fall any deeper, before you can drown in the ache clawing at your chest—he moves.

His hand wraps around your wrist, firm and unyielding.

You flinch, eyes finally snapping to him.

He doesn’t say anything—just turns, walking, dragging you with him.

Away from the door. Away from them.

“Sylus—“ Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t loosen his grip.

And deep down, you were glad he didn’t.

You let the warmth of his hand anchor you, let the storm swallow everything else, and let the laughter behind the doorframe fade into nothing.

•

Sylus doesn’t stop walking until you’re deep inside the quiet halls of the resort, the sound of rain and thunder fading into the background.

His grip finally loosens as he stops in front of a door.

Without looking at you, he pulls out his key card and swipes it. The lock clicks open.

“Get in.” His voice is flat, low—an order, not a request.

You linger by the doorway, water pooling beneath your feet.

Sylus exhales sharply for the nth time that night, raking a hand through damp silver strands, sending droplets scattering to the floor. Then, without warning, he grabs a towel from the bed and throws it at you.

It smacks against your chest, snapping you out of your daze.

“Shower.”

You blink up at him. His crimson eyes don’t waver.

His jaw ticks. Another sigh, this one slower, controlled.

More is tossed at you.

A shirt. A pair of sweatpants. His clothes.

They land in your arms, warm, freshly laundered, carrying the faintest trace of him—clean, sharp, and something unplaceable.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric.

“You’re soaked. You’ll get sick.”

It’s not concern. It’s a fact. A simple statement.

When you still don’t move, he clicks his tongue, tone dipping into something dangerously close to impatience.

“Either you go shower, or I’ll throw you in there myself.”

That finally makes your feet move.

You clutch the clothes tighter against your chest and step past him, disappearing into the bathroom.

The door clicks shut behind you.

And only then do you finally exhale.

The warmth of the shower does little to soothe the tightness in your chest, but at the very least, it washes away the lingering cold from the rain, the exhaustion clinging to your skin like a second layer.

When you finally step out, damp hair sticking to your neck, Sylus is exactly where you left him—leaning against the dresser, one knee bent, a towel draped over his head. His silver hair peeks through, darkened by water, stray strands clinging to his forehead. He’s slow with his movements, lazy almost, dragging the towel through his hair before ruffling it out with one hand.

For the first time, you actually look at him. Not just a passing glance, not a flicker of acknowledgement,—but really look.

At the way the dim light carves shadows along his jawline—the cut of his jawline, the slight furrow in his brow, the way droplets trail down his collarbone before vanishing beneath the black tank clinging to his build—damp and unforgiving, outlining lean muscle and sharp edges.

There’s something effortlessly sharp about him, something dangerous in the way he simply carries his frame.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as his gaze flickers up, sweeping over you. Unbothered. Knowing. Like he’s caught you staring.

“Like what you see?” his voice drips with lazy amusement.

You blink, heat creeping up your neck before you compose your features.

“What is there to like?”

His smirk deepens, crimson eyes flickering with something teasing.

“You really are a shortcake.” He smugs as his gaze roams your body. “Looks like my clothes are trying to swallow you whole.”

You glance down. The oversized shirt hangs loosely off your shoulders, the hem brushing against your knees. The sweatpants are cinched at the waist, tied hastily to keep them from slipping.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re built like a damn tree.”

Sylus snorts, shaking his head as he runs the towel over his hair one last time before tossing it onto the chair. “Move.”

He brushes past you, the scent of clean linen and faint sandalwood trailing behind him. The door clicks shut a second later, leaving you alone in the room.

For a moment, you simply stand there, staring at the empty space he left behind.

Then, with a slow, heavy breath, you make your way to the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight, soft and warm—a stark contrast to the cold pavement you were curled up on just hours ago.

You sink into it, pulling the blankets over yourself, letting your body finally rest.

But sleep never comes.

Even as exhaustion tugs at your limbs, your mind refuses to quiet.

The storm still lingers beyond the windows, faint rumbles reverberating through the walls. Every moment from tonight replays, over and over again—

The laughter at the campfire.

Caleb’s dismissive jokes.

Caleb’s warmth, his head rested on your lap as the sun sets.

His voice, gentle, whispered—“I’m here, pipsqueak. I’m here.”

And the way the line cut before you could even finish your cry for help.

Your grip on the blanket tightens.

It’s pathetic. How much this hurts. How much he still has a hold on you, even when you know better.

You force yourself to listen to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, gripping into your own palm like doing so could lull you to sleep.

The blanket feels too heavy. The air, too thick.

You shift onto your side, curling in on yourself, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the ache sitting heavy in your chest.

The shower stops, and a moment later, the bathroom door opens.

Sylus steps out, towel draped around his neck, silver hair still damp, a few strands clinging to his skin. The scent of clean linen and something sharp, something distinctly him, fills the space.

He says nothing, nor does he acknowledge you.

Instead, he crosses the room in that effortless, unhurried way of his, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair before grabbing something from his bag.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he settles into the chair beside the bed, flipping the book open like he��s done this a thousand times before.

Like you’re not lying there, curled up in his clothes, drowning in the silence between you.

Like this is just another one of his quiet nights.

The pages turn, slow and steady, the faint rustle of paper weaving into the distant cries of thunder.

Still, the way the thunder rumbles through the sky, rolling and crackling so close, makes your body tense on instinct. You will your breathing to steady, to calm. But your hands won’t stop trembling.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid.

The sudden change from the steady rhythm of pages turning to the faint tap of his fingers against his phone screen causes your brows to furrow in curiosity. You crack an eye open just enough to see him searching something up. His expression remains as impassive as ever, his crimson gaze flicking across the screen, scanning whatever article he’s pulled up.

Then—without warning—he gets up, grabs your blanket, and yanks it off you.

“H-Hey—!” You barely have time to react before he moves, fast and measured, rolling you over onto the bedspread like you weigh nothing.

“What the hell are you—“

He ignores you. Ignores your flailing arms, ignores your indignant protests, and swiftly tugs the blanket around you, tucking you in so tight you can barely move.

You blink, completely stunned. You stare up at him, utterly dumbfounded, as he looks down at you with a face that is, somehow, completely unbothered.

“What the fuck is this?”

Sylus simply plops back down into his chair, cool as ever.

“It’s what they say helps cats with anxiety attacks.” He gestures vaguely towards his phone. “Something about mimicking the feeling of safety.”

Silence. You blink at him.

Once.

Twice.

His lips twitch—just slightly. “You’re welcome.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“What kind of dumb—this isn’t even—“ You wiggle, struggling against the tight wrap of the blanket. “Sylus, let me out.”

“No.

“Sylus.”

“They say chin scratches can also help calm cats down,” he smirks. “Would you want that too, kitten?”

You open your mouth to retort, but another loud crack of thunder cuts through the room. Your breath hitches before you can stop it.

Silence engulfs the room once more.

He flips to another page in his book.

“Do you hate it that much?” his eyes never leaving the words in front of him. “The thunders.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating the way your hands still tremble against the blanket.

“No.”

Sylus hums, the sound low, almost skeptical. He flips another page.

“Convincing. Really.”

You would never admit it, but the tight wrap of blanket around you created a protective barrier between you and the world.

Or perhaps it is the steady rhythm of his breathing. The calm, unshaken presence beside you.

Your eyelids grow heavier.

The storm still lingers outside.

But here, in this quiet space, it’s bearable.

And before you realize it—the world turns dark.

•

Your eyes shoot open.

The room is steeped in deep blue, the quiet hum of dawn settling over the world. The storm has long passed, leaving behind only the faint scent of rain lingering in the air.

You instinctively look around, your pulse quickening as the memories of last night rush in like a relentless wave.

The chair beside the bed is empty. The book he was reading is gone.

He isn’t here.

A strange feeling settles in your chest—one you don’t have the energy to name.

You push yourself up, the oversized fabric of his clothes slipping loosely around your frame.

Right. You need to go.

Sliding off the bed, you grab your things, moving as quietly as possible. The last thing you need is anyone seeing you sneaking out of a room that isn’t yours.

The hallways are eerily silent, save for the distant rustle of the ocean breeze slipping through an open window. You slip into your own room unnoticed, the door clicking shut behind you.

MC is still asleep, curled beneath the blankets, her breathing slow and steady.

You exhale, body weighed down with exhaustion as you strip out of Sylus’s clothes, replacing them with your own. The fabric is warm, familiar.

Sliding your phone onto the charger, you finally crawl into bed, slipping under the covers beside MC.

She stirs slightly, shifting at the dip in the mattress, but doesn’t wake.

The silence stretches, the soft rhythm of her breathing lulling you into something close to peace.

You close your eyes.

•

You’re jolted awake by MC’s sudden exclaim.

“Oh my god, Yn!”

Your eyes snap open, the soft haze of sleep vanishing in an instant. MC is hovering over you, her phone clutched tightly in one hand, her brows furrowed in concern.

“Where the hell were you last night?!” she demands, voice a mix of worry and exasperation. “I called you like, a million times! I was this close to going out and looking for you—” She pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. “But, you know… how I am with thunders.”

You blink, mind sluggish, body too drained to react.

MC huffs, shoving her phone in your face. “Seriously, Yn. I was worried sick!”

You squint at the screen, barely making out the endless stream of missed calls and texts before you sigh, rubbing a hand down your face.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I—”

What are you even supposed to say?

That you got caught in the rain? That you collapsed on the side of the road? That Sylus found you?

That you spent the night in his room?

Your throat tightens.

MC sighs, finally pulling back. “I swear, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.” Her expression softens, the frustration fading into something quieter. “You okay?”

The concern in her voice makes your chest ache.

You force a small smile. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

MC watches you for a moment before nodding. “Alright. But don’t ever do that again, okay? If something’s wrong, you tell me.”

You nod, though you don’t say anything.

She plops back onto the bed, stretching her arms over her head. “Anyway, we have a long-ass day ahead of us. Let’s get moving before they start filming without us.”

You hum in agreement, pushing yourself up despite the weight still clinging to your limbs.

The moment your feet touch the floor, a faint dizziness creeps in, but you shake it off.

Today is going to be long. You just have to get through it.

MC chatters away as she gets ready, pulling out outfits and rummaging through her bag. She seems to have let go of last night’s worries, and for that, you’re grateful. You don’t have the energy to explain anything right now.

By the time you both leave the room, the sun has fully risen, painting the sky in warm golds and soft blues. The air is fresh, carrying the lingering scent of rain, but the storm from last night feels like a distant memory—like something only you remember.

When you arrive at the set, the atmosphere is already buzzing with energy. Crew members are setting up, actors are going over their lines, and the director is barking out instructions.

MC quickly joins the main cast, slipping into her role with ease, leaving you to find your own place among the side characters.

“Action!”

The day begins.

It’s hectic—far more chaotic than yesterday. Since most of the key scenes are scheduled to be filmed today, there’s barely a moment to breathe between takes.

You go through your role automatically, delivering lines, hitting your marks, going where you’re needed.

And yet, through the commotion, you can feel him.

“Action!”

You can see him in the crowd, practicing and discussing his lines.

You can see him placing his hand on MC’s head, telling her it’s okay she messed up her part.

“Action!”

Every now and then, between takes, you can see the way his eyes land on you, a certain look that you can’t quite place your finger on.

And every now and then, during any short break he can muster, you can see the way he tries to approach you.

But the simple thought of him makes you sick to your stomach.

“Yn—”

You slip away.

“Where were y—”

Someone calls you over before he can finish.

“Why didn’t you pick—”

Another take is called, forcing him back into position.

Every conversation dies before it can even begin, and you make no effort to change that.

You don’t want to face him yet.

You can’t.

“Action!”

Fortunately, the day is kind enough to be relentless, dragging you from scene to scene, making it easier to ignore the weight of his gaze, the questions lingering between you.

But as the hours pass, the sun burns hotter, the air grows heavier, and a dull ache creeps into your skull.

It’s subtle at first, just a faint throbbing behind your eyes.

“Action!”

Your limbs feel heavier, your head foggy, the world tilting ever so slightly.

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus.

It’s nothing. Just exhaustion. Just the heat. Just the fact that you spent last night soaking wet in the cold for hours.

“Action!”

You push through.

A hand reaches for yours.

“Hey—are you oka—“

“I’m fine, Caleb.” You snap, finally turning to face him, snatching your touch away from his.

You look over his shoulder to find MC waving for him.

“MC’s looking for you,” you state, turning away just as quickly.

“You don’t look—“

The set sweeps him away once more.

The heat is unbearable. It sticks to your skin, clings to your lungs, burrows into your skull with a relentless pulse. Every sound around you—voices, instructions, the scuffling of feet on set—blurs into a distant hum.

“Action!”

You should sit down. You should stop.

But you don’t.

You push through, following the motions, forcing your body to move despite the dull, throbbing ache radiating from your temple.

The sun beats down harder.

Your limbs feel heavy. Your vision swims.

Something is wrong.

“Act—“

A sudden shift—the ground tilts beneath you.

The world spirals. Your stomach churns—everything is slipping too fast.

And then—a firm grip catches your wrist.

Through the haze, crimson eyes lock onto yours, sharp and assessing.

You don’t understand how, don’t understand why— but subtly, nearly imperceptibly—the sharpness in his eyes narrows, just slightly.

His grip tightens.

“It’s not called a dance if there’s no one to catch you when you dip,” a teasing smirk crawls up his face.

You narrow your eyes, a frown following closely.

“Let me go,” you demand, pulling your hand from his. To your dismay, he does not budge.

Sylus hums, tilting his head slightly, his crimson eyes flickering with amusement.

“Let you go?” He scoffs lightly. “Sweetheart, you nearly face-planted in front of half the set. If it weren’t for me, you’d be eating sand right now.”

A flush of heat creeps up your neck—whether from frustration or fever, you don’t know.

“But it did look like you were throwing yourself into my arms just now…”

Your jaw tightens. “I wasn’t—“

“You were.” He grins, lazy and insufferable, before tapping his temple. “Don’t worry, I’ll be generous and let you blame it on heat exhaustion. But next time, try asking before you faint dramatically into my arms, yeah?”

A scoff pushes past your lips, hot and irritated. “I didn’t—“

He cuts you off again, eyes narrowing in mock thought. “Actually, should I be offended? You didn’t even call my name. Isn’t that what damsels in distress do?”

He shifts his grip to hook an arm securely around your waist, pulling you closer as your knees wobble.

You slap at his arm. “I can stand just fine.“

“Sure.” He drawls the word out, clearly not convinced. “If by ‘just fine’ you mean ‘barely upright and just one second away from proving me right.’”

Your glare sharpens, pushing his body away from you. However, your body betrays you as your knees struggle to find balance, causing you to lean just slightly into his hold.

Sylus smirks.

“You love proving me right, don’t you?”

You groan. “Just let me go, Sylus.”

Before he can answer, another presence looms in.

“Yn.“

The teasing weight of Sylus’s words vanishes in an instant.

You tense.

The air shifts—sharp, tight, suffocating.

Sylus’s smirk doesn’t falter, but the amusement in his eyes dims, replaced with something much more calculating.

“I’ll take it from here.”

Caleb takes a step forward, his expression unreadable—but his tone isn’t.

“Let go.”

A muscle in Sylus’s jaw twitches as his gaze sweeps over Caleb, the amusement curling at his lips deepening.

“That’s funny,” he muses, low and almost thoughtful.

Caleb’s eyes darken. “I said, let go.”

Sylus tilts his head slightly, gaze dipping back to you.

“Mm.” His voice drops lower, amusement flickering at the edges. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

The tension snaps tight between them—like a drawn blade, waiting to be swung.

You exhale sharply, yanking your wrist away from Sylus. Caleb’s presence itself is enough to push you off the edge, adding the tension between the two and your head splitting in half definitely does not help.

“I’m fine. I can walk. You two have scenes to film—go do that instead of hovering over me,” you mutter, your glare shifting between them.

Neither of them move.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Seriously. I just need some rest. Go.”

Sylus studies you for a beat longer, then— with an infuriating smirk, he raises both his hands in a mock display of surrender.

“Whatever you say, kitten.”

He steps back, turning without another word. But, even if you’ve just known him for a few days, you’re well too accustomed to that glint in his eyes. He’s entertained—like he just witnessed something far more amusing than it should be.

You roll your eyes, turning to leave—only to find Caleb following closely behind.

You stop in your tracks.

“Caleb.”

“You’re sick,” he states simply, as if that explains everything.

You let out an exhausted sigh. “I just need a nap. The sun’s too hot. You have a job to do. Go.”

“I’ll take you to your room.”

You groan. “I don’t need you to—“

“Yn.”

Something in the way he says your name—low, quiet, edged with something almost like a puppy left alone—makes your breath hitch.

You swallow, annoyance and fatigue surfacing your expression.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.”

You start walking. Caleb falls into step beside you, silent. The set bustles behind you, voices and movement filling the space. But between you and Caleb, the silence is louder.

The walk back is slow. The ground beneath you feels unsteady, your legs sluggish with exhaustion. The day had been merciless—your body drained from the heat, the lingering weight of last night clawing at your bones.

“I didn’t,” you murmur.

“You almost did.”

You finally reach your door, the cool AC left running inside brushes away a part of your exhaustion.

The door clicks shut behind you. You turn to face him, arms crossed.

“Alright. You walked me back. You can go now.”

Caleb doesn’t move. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets. “Kicking me out already?” he says with his usual playful tone, a grin plastered on his face.

“Out.”

Caleb sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just—why didn’t you say anything? You looked like you were about to collapse back there.” He slowly approaches you, placing one hand on your forehead and another on his. “You’re burning up.”

A deep frown crawls up your face, annoyance filling your senses. You swat his hand away, taking an unsteady step backwards.

“Get out, Caleb, I want to be alone.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly, taken aback by your response. A soft chuckle slips past his lips—one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave. Right after I tuck you in.”

You let out a sharp breath, exasperated, but too drained to argue. Caleb takes a step closer, reaching for the blanket, but you snatch it before he can.

“Caleb—“

“You didn’t answer my calls.” The shift is almost imperceptible. His voice is steady, but there is an edge to it—like he is holding something back. His jaw is tense, something unreadable flashing behind his violet eyes.

Your breath catches for half a second and you grip on the blanket tightens, but you school your expression. “My phone was dead.”

“Where were you last night?” His voice is still too calm. Too measured.

You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose, exhaustion pressing into your skull. “Caleb—“

“Do you know how long I spent looking for you?” his tone is lighter than it should be, laced with something almost amused—but his eyes, his stance, the slight clench of jaw betray him. “I ran through the rain like a desperate idiot, calling for your name like a lunatic, only for you to act like I don’t exist the next day?”

His voice isn’t desperate. It’s frustrated.

You don’t know what to say to that. Instead, you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head.

“Yeah? That worried? Sure, Caleb. Sure,” you pause. “Do you expect me to be grateful?” sarcasm drips from your words.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” his eyes narrow.

“No? Then what are you saying?” You cross your arms, a bitter laugh slipping past your lips. “Because I remember calling you. I remember my hands shaking so bad I almost dropped my phone. I remember hearing your voice and thinking, ‘finally.’” Your throat tightens. “And then I remember you cutting the line.”

Caleb stares at you, his expression unreadable.

“I was in the middle of god knows where, drenched like a drowning dog, kneeled down on the road next to some fucking dumpster,” you continue, voice shaking despite yourself. “But it wasn’t a great time. You were busy.” A humorless laugh leaves your quivering lips.

His jaws ticks.

“You know how MC is with thunders,” he says, voice quieter now. Almost defensive. “But as soon as she fell asleep— I didn’t think—“

“Exactly.” Your words are barely above a whisper. “You didn’t think. Had you paid a little more attention, you would’ve known I hated the thunder too.”

Something in his face shifts. His breath catches. For the first time since you met him, he looks like he miscalculated.

The silence is thick, suffocating. His gaze lock onto yours, searching—for what you weren’t sure.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, looking away. His hand grips the doorknob, knuckles paling slightly.

His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “I didn’t know.”

A bitter smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah. You didn’t.”

He remains there for a second longer, a shadow of something you can’t quite place flickering behind his eyes. You inhale sharply, steadying yourself, pressing a hand against your temple as a dull ache throbs inside your head.

“I’m very—very—tired,” you continue, voice barely above a breath. “So just… let me rest, Caleb.”

His jaws tightens. He shifts his weight, like he wants to say something—like there’s something sitting heavy on his tongue—but in the end, he exhales through his nose, slow and steady,

His voice, when he finally speaks, is quiet. Strained.

“…Get some rest, then.”

His fingers twitch at his sides. He slowly place his hand on your head, ruffling it softly—the way that has always brought butterflies to your stomach. His violet eyes flicker, scanning you—your unsteady stance, the way you press against your temple, the exhaustion settling deep in your features. Something flashes behind his gaze. But just as quickly, it’s gone.

He takes a step back. Then another.

He tilts his head slightly, studying you one last time—not with amusement, not with his usual lazy charm or playfulness, but with something much quieter. Much heavier.

“Try not to sleep through dinner, shortcake.” His usual grin flickers at the edges, forced, strained, before turning his heel.

Click.

[illusionaryrambler]

Ezekiel walks through the woods, trying to make as much noise as possible while arriving to a small clearing surrounded by mushrooms. You see, he wasn’t trying to be secretive. No. If anything he wanted to be noticed.

Only the luckiest are looked at, though Ezekiel wouldn’t consider himself that in the slightest. More like a privilege to be in the presence of a helpful annoyance. He clears his throat and begins to create as much noise as humanly possible(Ezekiel was only human after all).

“OH BOY, IT WOULD SURE SUCK IF THE FAE TOOK ME!”, cried the man, banging pots and pans together in the middle of the circle of mushrooms, “A TRAGEDY! A HORRIBLE THING! AN…ATROCITY!”, Ezekiel most likely looked(and sounded) hysterical at the moment. Desperate times call for desperate measures…or so they say.

“You know,” a coy, dreamy voice announced, “you don’t have to do this every time you want to gain my attention. Though, I must say, this is quite entertaining. Better than that weird stationary object that plays moving pictures.”

Ezekiel turns around and glares, “You’ve been missing for weeks! How else was I supposed to get you to listen? Your mother has been worried sick!”

“Oh, wee lamb, I’m sorry you had to endure her lecturing. How might I repay you?”

“By giving me back my sanity,” Ezekiel huffs and mutters, “and maybe help me with my astronomy homework.”

“It amazes me how little you know about the night sky even though you stare up at it practically every night.”

“We can’t all be magical, Adonis.”

“Of course, darling,” Adonis chuckles softly, “Now, what about this homework confuses your small, human brain?”

Ezekiel rolls his eyes and hands over the sheet of paper(filled with nonsense if he had any say in it), and Adonis squints at the blasted thing before scowling,

“What in Mother Nature’s tongue is this?!”

this prompt was super fun!! these are my characters, Ezekiel and Adonis. they’re idiots but i love them. there will be torturing of them soon(because i just can’t NOT torture them a little bit).

they just fit so well with this prompt, so i just had to write a little snippet of them for this.

"OH BOY, IT WOULD SURE SUCK IF THE FAE TOOK ME!" cried the man banging pots and pans together in the middle of a mushroom circle.

[melanchoire]

hi! can i request a top student karina who helps y/n to get a good grades and became obsessed with her (friendly rivalry plot 🤩). y/n realized she couldn't survive school without her and starts doing what karina wants (to please her 💗), that eventually lead to her bedroom.. can you also add up that the y/n loves boobs like yk she would beg karina to let her suck her and please also add that karina is into face sitting mwehehe.

this seems a lot sorry... THANK YOU ANYWAY!!

i missed writing for rina so much 💔 anyway i still have a couple of aespa stuff in my drafts (aeri stans get ready 🎇🎉🎊)

cw: cunnilingus, face–sitting, thigh riding, titsucking.

karina being a senior at your school who becomes your tutor due to your less than ideal grades 💔 having to meet her every school day at the library starts to make you realize that slacking off in class and taking lazy and messy notes for the sake of joking around and talking with your friends was a very bad idea

you knew something about her, not too much, but you had seen her a couple of times in the school hallways or among the crowds of people at school events. you thought she would be a bit stuck up like some of the other girls in her class given the looks they tend to give younger students, but she wasn’t completely giving off that vibe, and you could tell when she looked up from her phone upon entering the library and dropped the straw of her milkshake from between her lips. “oh hey! you made it. i thought you weren’t coming.” and she approaches you smiling, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and maintaining a charismatic and friendly attitude

“it’s good to see you here. your teacher told me about your low grades and asked me to help you study and prepare for the upcoming exams so you can pass her subject. i hope you’re okay with that." but you can’t pay much attention to her words because your eyes are on her because she is so much more beautiful up close 😵‍��� this was definitely the motivation you needed to finally pay attention to your studies

her sharp and pronounced features, the way her silky hair waves gracefully when she walks and a small breeze hits her face, how her uniform accentuates her body, the slight movement of her hips and her confidence when she walks makes you stare at her like an idiot every time you see her. karina even greets you when she sees you in the hallways, no matter if you are with your friends or she is with her group, when she passes by you, she gives you a small nod and a smile, but if she sees you from afar, it’s a wink and a wave of her hand 🫠 you don’t know how she would react if she knew that sometimes you wander around the school on purpose just to find her or memorizing the route she takes to her classroom or during break time

but karina is just as obsessed as you are! of course she notices the look that your eyes have when you see her, but she always maintains a relaxed attitude, holding back a smirk as she sees how you think you’re being subtle with your gaze when it’s traveling all over her body…

and thanks to karina’s help you manage to go from being the lazy student who is always talking in class to the student who participates in class and does all their homework so they can use the extra class time to complete some other assignment in another subject or study for the exams they got

little by little, the study dates begin to become more… intimate. karina always used to sit next to you while she explained the exercises, placing the notebook between the two of you and looking at you every time she explained a new concept to make sure you were following her lead and understood what he was talking about. now, she was more… closer. continuing to sit next to you but much closer to you, her chest practically at your side and always remembering to make sure to press her breasts against your shoulder, enjoying when you turn your face to the side to look at her as she explains, getting nervous about having her face so close to yours and noticing how your gaze falls directly to her lips

a hand resting on your knee as she explains the formulas and different ways to solve an equation, climbing dangerously up your thigh until it reaches under your skirt. “now we will do a little practice. i’ve already written the results of the equations. you just have to do the math, and if you get the same result as me, it means it’s correct.” as if she wasn’t currently caressing your clit through your panties with her fingertips 🥰 “if you do this well, we can stop studying here and do something more… fun.” and you’ve never been so motivated to do a task before!

karina pushing your panties aside so her fingers could caress your folds… you were thankful that there was no one in the library at this hour, because otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this! or that’s what you think, because if it were up to karina, she would fuck you on the table even with the library full of people 😊

and when you finally finish completing the exercises, you think that she will give you what you want so much, but no! she focuses on correcting the exercises you solved, taking all her time and taking extra time to provoke you ☹️

but a promise is a promise, so karina drags you to her bedroom!

although karina won’t give it to you easily 😣 making you kneel in front of her and beg her to touch you, but not before confessing how much you want to fuck her for a long time and tell her all the twisted ideas that are in that silly little head of yours :( karina enjoys being mean because it’s very easy to break you and make you act like a dumb

making you sit on her lap and ride her thigh while she lets you play with her tits 😵‍💫 pushing your face into her chest with a grip on your hair, grinning as you watch as the more you suck on her tits the more desperate your hips move against her thigh

“so that was it... do you always put effort into your studies when it comes to me because you want to fuck me, (y/n)? all you do is think about me playing with this body when you study?”

“riding my thigh like a dog humping a leg… you're pathetic, (y/n).”

letting karina ride your face because it’s your way of thanking her for helping you improve your grades and be a better student 🫶🏻 she loves to see your vulnerable expression and your eyes looking at her from between her thighs, enjoying it more when you whine against her pussy as she pushes her hips harder against your face just to tease you 🥴 and she is so sweet that she also allows you to touch yourself while you devour her, letting you sneak a hand under your skirt and play with your throbbing clit while she uses you for her own pleasure

[lov3yv4mps]

Hii!! Can you please do a period comfort with skz? Please and thank you!!!

Yes of course anon!!

‧ ୨ period comfort with skz ୧ ‧

SUMMARY: How stray kids members comfort you during your period

Pairings: stray kids x fem!reader (separately)

Warnings: just fluff!!

v4mps note: I tried to make these as accurate as possible, but this is my opinion! If it doesn't suit your opinion, I apologize :(

‧ ୨ bangchan ୧ ‧

This man is always prepared—like always. And when I say prepared, I mean he probably has a whole app on his phone just to track your cycle, complete with notifications so he knows exactly when to stock up on your favorite snacks, grab extra pads or tampons, and make sure the heating pad is ready to go. He loves seeing the happy smile when you notice his attention and care for you.

The second he notices it's that time of the month, he’s already one step ahead—texting you things like, “I got your favorite chocolate, baby. You want anything else?” Or maybe he just shows up with a little care package because he knows what you need before you even have to ask.

And when the cramps hit? Oh, he's on it. He’s tucking you into his arms, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach, whispering, “I got you, love. No stupid cramps are gonna hurt my baby.” If you need him to, he’ll even warm up your heating pad and hold it against your tummy himself—because no pain is touching his love on his watch.

If he finds you crying over the smallest things—like your eyeliner not matching or your hair not cooperating—Chan’s heart immediately softens. He kneels in front of you, gently wiping your tears with his thumbs. “Baby, don’t cry over this,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. With a small smile, he tilts his head. “Want me to fix it, or should we just cuddle instead?”

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ leeknow ୧ ‧

Lee Know notices before you even say anything. The slight wince, the way you press a hand to your stomach—he’s already on it. Without a word, he disappears and comes back with your heating pad, plugging it in and placing it on your lap. “You should’ve said something,” he mutters, but his touch is gentle as he tucks a blanket around you. He won’t make a big deal out of it, but he’ll make sure you have everything you need.

He acts nonchalant about it, but you know he’s paying attention. If you complain about cramps, he’ll scoff lightly. “Well, I can’t do anything about that.” But five minutes later, he’s sliding a cup of warm tea in front of you, pretending it’s no big deal. If you thank him, he just shrugs. “I just didn’t want to hear you complain later.” (But the way he subtly checks on you every few minutes totally gives him away.)

If he sees you getting emotional, he’s quick to shift your focus. He’ll plop down next to you, phone in hand, and start showing you cute cat videos like it’s urgent. “Look at this one. This is literally you.” If that doesn’t work, he’ll poke your cheek until you glare at him. “There she is. Thought I lost you for a second.” Anything to keep your mind off the discomfort.

Lee Know isn’t always the biggest on PDA, but when you’re in pain? He’s all yours. He lets you stretch out on the couch, head resting on his lap as he absentmindedly strokes your hair. “Just sleep,” he murmurs, his fingers moving soothingly against your scalp. He won’t say it outright, but the way he lets you cling to him, the way he adjusts so you’re comfortable? Yeah, he’s not letting you go until you feel better.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ changbin ୧ ‧

The moment Changbin hears you groan in pain, he’s on high alert. He rushes to your side, eyes full of concern. “Where does it hurt? What do you need? Say the word, and I got you.” He won’t rest until he’s sure you’re comfortable, tucking a blanket around you and making sure you have everything—snacks, water, even his hoodie if you want it.

If you’re feeling sluggish and mopey, he’s not letting you sink into the sadness. “C’mon, let’s go for a short walk, just to get some air.” If you refuse, he flops onto the couch next to you dramatically. “Fine, but at least let’s stretch a little.” He just wants to help you feel better, even if it means sitting there massaging your legs while making goofy faces.

He hates seeing you uncomfortable, so he’ll do anything to take your mind off the pain. He’ll put on a funny movie, tell you random stories, or even offer to do your skincare routine for you. “I’ve seen you do it a million times. How hard can it be?” (Spoiler: He gets way too into it, and you end up laughing at his concentrated expression.)

The second you lay down, Changbin immediately becomes your human pillow. He lets you rest on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. “You’re stuck with me now,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it’s all so comforting, you end up falling asleep in his arms, safe and loved.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ hyunjin ୧ ‧

If Hyunjin notices you're feeling off, he’ll instantly become the calm presence you need. He won’t rush to ask you a million questions, but he’ll quietly observe, sensing the shift in your mood. “You okay?” he’ll ask softly, his tone calm and gentle. Without making a fuss, he’ll grab your favorite blanket and wrap it around you, sitting close by, just quietly being there with you. Sometimes, he��ll rest his head on yours, offering his comfort through his presence alone.

When you’re feeling down or drained, Hyunjin knows that sometimes the best thing is a little peace and quiet. He’ll sit next to you, not demanding anything, just offering a steady, calming energy. He might gently stroke your arm or hair, his soft touch making you feel grounded. “I’m here, you don’t need to talk,” he’ll whisper, letting you know that just being near him is enough to help you relax.

Hyunjin has a way of bringing a calm vibe even in the quietest moments. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, he’ll quietly pull you into his arms, letting you rest your head on his chest. He’ll hum a soft tune, his voice low and soothing, creating a peaceful atmosphere that helps take your mind off any discomfort. “Just breathe, everything will be okay,” he’ll murmur, as you close your eyes, feeling safe in his embrace.

Even when he’s being calm and gentle, Hyunjin’s attention to you never wavers. If you mention cramps or feeling off, he’ll quietly get up to make you tea or get your favorite snacks, all without making it a big deal. When he returns, he’ll simply hand them to you with a small smile, his voice quiet but filled with care. “Here you go. Take it easy for now, okay?” His soft, caring nature always shines through in the simplest moments.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ han ୧ ‧

When Han notices you're feeling off, he’s the perfect mix of dramatic and calm. He’ll dramatically gasp and clutch his chest, “Noooo, not my baby,” but his soft, concerned gaze tells you he’s genuinely worried. He'll immediately get to work, grabbing your favorite snacks or a cozy blanket, all while maintaining that cool, quiet energy. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m here,” he’ll reassure you, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of sincerity that makes you feel safe.

If you're feeling overwhelmed, Han’s playfully dramatic side will come out to distract you. He’ll dramatically flop onto the couch beside you, letting out a huge sigh as if the whole world is crashing down. “The pain, the agony... I can’t bear to watch you suffer,” he’ll say, trying not to laugh as he gives you a playful look. He knows it’ll lighten your mood, and he’ll gently coax a smile out of you without being too much.

Though he’s playful, Han knows when to keep things quiet. He’ll sit next to you, quietly rubbing your back or running his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and steady. He won’t force conversation, just giving you the space to relax while still showing you that he’s there. “I’m right here… just rest, okay?” His calm, comforting presence wraps around you like a warm hug.

When you need comfort, Han’s sweetness comes out in the softest ways. He’ll pull you into his lap, his arms wrapped around you as he murmurs softly. “It’s okay, baby. Just sleep... I’ve got you.” He’s quiet, but his gentle touches and soothing words make you feel like everything’s going to be okay, even when the world feels like it’s spinning.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ felix ୧ ‧

Felix, being the sunshine he is, will first make sure you're absolutely comfortable. He’ll tiptoe around the room quietly, making sure to dim the lights, as he knows a soft atmosphere helps you feel better. He’ll gently ask, “Do you want me to play your favorite playlist? I know the soft songs help when you’re not feeling well.” He’ll make you feel like a priority, always quietly moving to cater to your needs without making you feel like a burden.

When you're feeling down, Felix has a very nurturing side that shines. He won’t just offer a quick solution; he’ll really dive into the comfort routine. “How about a warm bath? I’ll make it nice and relaxing, and we can watch a show after,” he’ll suggest with a gentle smile. He’s meticulous about the little things, running the bath at the perfect temperature, lighting a candle, and making sure the towels are soft and ready when you’re done. It’s all about making sure you feel pampered.

Felix might be the type to prepare a surprise snack for you, but in a subtle way. He won’t make a big deal out of it; he’ll just quietly come back with your favorite treat and a cup of tea, setting it beside you with a soft grin. “I thought you might need a little something,” he’ll say, offering the snack with a sense of quiet joy. He doesn’t need praise for it, he just loves to see you taken care of and happy, even in the smallest ways.

If you're feeling really bad, Felix will make sure you're completely relaxed in his presence. He won’t try to push you to talk, but rather let you know that he’s here for you. He might offer to play a gentle game or even suggest you both take a nap together, where he’ll wrap his arms around you to keep you warm. “I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry. Just let me know if you need anything,” he’ll say, his voice soft and full of sincerity. It’s all about offering that quiet, protective comfort that makes you feel like everything will be okay with him by your side.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ seungmin ୧ ‧

Seungmin isn’t the type to be overly dramatic or overly soft, but when he notices you’re uncomfortable, he steps up in his own way. Without saying much, he’ll disappear for a few minutes and return with a heating pad, a glass of water, and whatever snack he knows you like. He won’t make a big deal out of it, just setting everything beside you with a simple, “Here. Take this.” It’s his way of showing care without making you feel fussed over.

If he catches you whining about cramps or feeling miserable, he won’t sugarcoat things. “You act like you’re dying every month,” he’ll tease with a smirk, but the second you glare at him, he’s already adjusting your blanket and tucking you in. He’s playful, but he knows when to draw the line. After his teasing, he’ll sit next to you and absentmindedly rub your leg or hold your hand, quietly making sure you’re okay.

Seungmin’s love language during your period is distraction. He knows sitting around focusing on the pain won’t help, so he’ll casually toss you the TV remote. “Pick something to watch, and don’t make it something boring.” If you’re not up for a show, he’ll challenge you to a game on your phone, knowing that getting competitive will make you temporarily forget about how bad you’re feeling.

If you’re extra tired and just want to rest, Seungmin won’t be over-the-top affectionate, but he’ll stay close. He might sit on the floor beside the couch, scrolling on his phone, but every once in a while, he’ll check on you with a soft, “You still alive?” If you fall asleep, he won’t move, letting you rest peacefully while he stays right there—quietly looking after you in the most Seungmin way possible.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ jeongin ୧ ‧

Jeongin may not always know exactly what to do when you’re feeling bad, but he tries his best in his own thoughtful way. The first thing he does is pull out his phone and search for the best ways to help with cramps or discomfort. “Okay, so Google says heating pads and snacks help... I can do that!” He’ll rush off to get everything, sometimes bringing back a completely random snack just because he thought it might cheer you up.

If he sees you curled up in pain, he’ll frown and sit beside you, resting his chin on his hand while observing you closely. “You look like you’re about to cry,” he’ll say, a little too bluntly, before quickly adding, “Do you want me to make you laugh? I’ll do something really dumb if it helps.” He’ll start making weird faces or doing a terrible dance just to see you smile, his own laughter filling the room when he sees it working.

Jeongin’s way of comforting you is casual but sweet. He won’t always say much, but he’ll stay close, scrolling on his phone next to you or playing a game while occasionally glancing over. Every so often, he’ll nudge your arm and say, “You good?” If you mumble that you’re not, he’ll sigh dramatically and hand you his hoodie. “Here. Hoodies fix everything.”

If you’re feeling extra exhausted, Jeongin will get a little softer without making it obvious. He’ll let you rest your head on his lap while he plays with your hair, humming softly without even realizing it. When he notices you getting sleepier, he’ll whisper, “Just sleep, I’ll wake you up if anything happens.” His quiet, reassuring presence makes you feel safe, and though he might pretend he’s not doing anything special, he secretly loves taking care of you in these little ways.

[watchmegetobsessed]

EVERYTHING WITH YOU

A/N: this short little fic was based on one single tag from @harrysblackcoat lol

WORD COUNT: 836

SUMMARY: The wedding vibes have Harry wonder what he wants from the future when it comes to you.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The Sun has sunk behind the winery, the string lights above the tables and dancefloor are shining along with the stars that are hanging on the clear sky. The band is relentlessly playing song after song, not letting the guests rest even for a minute. The bartenders are eagerly making the orders, not letting anyone stay thirsty. 

Harry is sitting at his seat, nursing his own drink while talking with some guests. It’s your sister’s wedding, so he doesn’t know many people, but most guests obviously have recognized him upon arriving at the ceremony earlier. He’s been patiently and kindly chatting with everyone who is bold enough to come up to him. 

But right now he is having a hard time focusing on the conversation he was pulled into, because his attention keeps wandering towards the dance floor. 

There you are, in your flowy lilac dress that’s been chosen by your sister for all bridesmaids, but there’s no doubt you look the most fantastic in it if you ask Harry. You’ve ditched your heels a while ago, so you’re dancing around barefoot, your hair is a bit dishevelled by now, but still very elegant and dreamy in his opinion. 

He can’t get enough of you. The way you move your hips to the rhythm, how you smile at everyone and he loves it when you get so excited about a song that you start jumping. He feels like he is  watching a movie he never wants to end. 

At one point you’re surrounded by a couple of little girls and you dance with them happily, twirling and lifting them up, making them laugh from excitement, it’s easily the most adorable sight Harry has seen in a while. He loves seeing you with kids, you’re definitely in your element when you get to make them laugh and it always makes Harry wonder…

When you spot him staring at you shamelessly, you dance your way through the dancefloor towards him, making him laugh with your silliest dance moves. 

“Hey handsome, want to dance?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

“Not turning that down,” he grins as he excuses himself from the table and taking your hand he lets you pull back to the dancefloor.

Once you secure a spot you’re quick to curl your arms around his neck and his hands grab you by your waist as you start moving to the music. Harry didn’t like dancing that much when you started dating a year ago, he would just let you go wild with your girlfriends whenever you were out somewhere while he stayed by the table, but slowly, step by step you made him join you more and more often until he kind of became fond of dancing with you. What you don’t know is that what he loves the most about it is that others are seeing you with him and it fills him with pride, knowing he is seen with the most beautiful woman in the room. 

The band changes up the mood a little with a slower song, mostly couples stay on the dance floor and the newlyweds are swaying in the middle. Harry smiles when you pull him closer and lay your head to his shoulder as he tightens his arms around your figure. He knows the song that’s playing, so he starts humming the melody in your ear and it makes you smile. 

Lifting your head up at one point you steal a quick kiss, then your gaze wanders over to your sister and her husband. She looks so happy and so in love, it’s amazing to see your sister like this and you know her husband will treat her right. 

Harry follows your gaze, but his thoughts are a bit different. 

“I can see us like that,” he tells you.

“Dancing?” you chuckle softly. “We are dancing right now.”

Harry shakes his head with a small smile and then it seems like he hesitates before speaking up again. 

“I mean married. I can see us married.”

His words surprise you. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before, you have, quite often, but you haven’t really discussed it before. It wasn’t a topic you were avoiding, it just never came up, so his confession came a bit out of the blue. 

Harry, seeing your reaction, thinks he might have said something he shouldn’t have. 

“Do you?” he asks, seemingly flushed and worried he shouldn’t have said that. “It’s okay if you don’t, you don’t have to–”

You cut off his rambling with a kiss and you instantly feel his muscles relax under your touch, his arms tightening around you. When you pull back you give him a bright smile.

“I can see everything with you, Harry.”

The relief is visible on his face as a warm smile stretches across his lips. He doesn’t say a word, just rests his forehead against yours and you keep swaying to the music. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[plainclothesdisaster]

Martian Manhunter has seen many things happen in the Watchtower situation room, but this might be one of the strangest.

One of Gotham’s many vigilantes- Red Hood, if he wasn’t mistaken- stormed into the room, slammed his palms on the far side of the long table, and said, “You need to check what the asteroid is made of.”

The asteroid in question was one line item of many agenda points for this meeting. The radar had picked it up as one on a collision course with Earth, but they had protocols for this. They’d dealt with similar situations multiple times before. It’s not often though, that they have uninvited attendees to justice league meetings. That alone is enough to make J’onn wonder.

“How did you get up here, son?” Superman, always the diplomat, attempts to calm some of the confusion.

“Irrelevant. The asteroid. What’s its composition?”

Batman has less patience. “The protocols are in place to deal with the threat. Red Hood—“

“They won’t work.”

Green Lantern, ever not the diplomat, rolls his eyes. “Kid, we’ve dealt with similar situations dozens of times. Care to explain why this one is so special?”

“Just trust me.”

Batman sighs. “I think we’ve heard enough, Hood.”

“No. Wait. I have it on good authority that the usual protocol won’t work.” He retorts, then stares directly at Batman, as if that statement wasn’t just another empty platitude.

Batman’s jaw flexes. An understanding passes between them.

“What authority?” Diana questions, stone faced.

As if in response, the door opens again. A familiar face pops in, seemingly oblivious to the meeting. It’s a member of the Watchtower tech staff. Danny.

“Ah. Whoops,” Danny stutters. “Didn’t know you all were in here. My bad.”

Red Hood transfers his glare to this newcomer, but Danny seems blissfully immune to it. Batman remains uncharacteristically speechless as Danny steps further into the room.

“But while I’m here—“ Danny hits a switch on the wall and a crisp blue light projection of their solar neighborhood beams into view above the table. “I upgraded the holo projectors.” The planets spin and their clouds swirl and their many moons dance in orbit. It’s incredibly accurate and finely detailed.

“Pretty cool, right?”

And there, just beyond the rings of Saturn, is the asteroid in question.

Danny meets Batman’s eyeline and raises his eyebrows. Another silent exchange. It has J’onn on edge. He trusts the team around this table implicitly. He does not, however, trust those who haven’t earned their seat.

He reaches out telepathically for Danny, intending just a surface level read of his intentions. But Upon making connection he’s met with infinite nebulae, an endless vortex, an impossible cold. He grips his knees under the table, suddenly fighting not to be overwhelmed, and then in a snap he’s cut off. Like a fly being swatted.

Danny’s eyes slide to him, slowly. Sorry about that. Should have warned you it’s dangerous to look too close. Danny’s voice echoes across the telepathic link.

J’onn sits up straighter. Just what kind of creature had Batman let on this station?

What do you know. J’onn demands.

Nothing you can’t figure out. Y’all aren’t that dense.

“It’s Kryptonite.” Superman’s dark tone brings his attention back to the table. Batman’s at the holo controls— he’s zoomed in on the asteroid and data and projection lines flicker all around it.

“No- it looks almost like lantern energy. Like it’s a construct.” Green Lantern has lost his snark. A reprieve certainly, but never a good omen.

“Either possibility makes redirection challenging. Destruction inadvisable.” Batman frowns.

J’onn keeps his eyes on Danny, who now seems to be on the receiving end of a whispered lecture from the still-inexplicable Red Hood. Danny looks unbothered, and indeed instead appears like he is rather enjoying himself.

Voices raise around the table as more solutions are offered and discarded. This is not how he expected this meeting to go.

Or maybe you all are that dense. Danny muses down the apparently still-active link.

J’onn is about to interrogate him further when he stops. He’s arrived at the answer to their conundrum.

“Density shifting.”

“J’onn?” Batman quiets the rest of the table and everyone’s focus shifts.

“We density shift the asteroid so it passes through the Earth harmlessly. Between myself and Miss Martian it should be possible.”

Murmurs of assent fill the room. Batman’s gaze goes again to Danny, and J’onn’s follows.

The supposed mechanic is smiling at them like a pleased housecat.

Batman keeps eye contact with Danny down the length of the table. Danny stands at the opposite head, next to Red Hood. For a moment J’onn wonders if the command of the room has shifted.

Until Danny shrugs and says, “Sounds plausible enough. Don’t look at me. I’m just a mechanic.”

J’onn reaches for the telepathic link, but it’s gone. Danny turns to leave, Red Hood at his heels, but before he does he winks at J’onn on his way out the door.

J’onn blinks. The air in the room shifts and settles as soon as Danny’s gone. Batman begins outlining the logistics of the new plan, but J’onn barely hears him.

He can’t get that flash of endless void out of his head. And yet the link did end up leaving an impression of Danny’s intentions after all: Kindness. Secrecy. And a pure, desperate desire to help.

Very strange indeed.

//

“I could have handled it,” Jason says over his shoulder as he stirs the bolognese sauce.

Danny’s sprawled out on the couch with some trashy tv on in the background. “You did great.”

“I’m just saying— you didn’t have to show up.”

“What if I just wanted to see steam come out of Batman’s ears in person?”

“You get to do that every time we go to family dinner,” he pauses to taste the sauce, adds a dash more pepper. “I thought it was supposed to be risky. Y’know- for you to get involved.”

“It is, yeah. Which is the reason for all this roundabout mumbo jumbo. Making them figure it out themselves. Means I’m less likely to get caught.”

He taps his spoon and turns to face Danny. “Why risk it then? Why not just let them deal with it on their own? They would have figured out how to deal with the asteroid eventually.”

“Probably, yeah. But how late? How many of people would have gotten hurt- or worse- in that process?”

Jason sighs. he knows trying to convince Danny to be less self sacrificing is like arguing with a carbon steel wall. The timer beeps and he drains the noodles.

“I was just gonna go handle it myself on the sly but— turned out that dumb rock had enough ectoranium in it to resist ghost powers.”

“You didn’t have to do that either.”

Danny shrugs as Jason plates the pasta and hands him a bowl. Jason takes his seat on the couch next to him.

By the time he’s settled Danny has already shoved a big bite of pasta in his mouth. “You’ve really outdone yourself.” He says between chews.

Jason smiles, but he’s not ready to let it go. “If you’re gonna keep doing this, you gotta let me help you.”

“For sure,” he replies between chews.

“Like, actually help you.”

“Of course.”

“Danny. For real though. If you get caught— I can’t— ugh.” Jason sets his bowl on the coffee table and turns to look Danny in the eye. “All I’m saying is that if you get yoinked away to some other dimension as punishment I’m going to be pretty pissed, okay?”

Danny puts his fork down and gives him a wry look.

“But really, me helping you can’t be /that/ against the rules. And if it is, surely you’ll come save me if I get yoinked too, yeah?”

Danny releases a breathy laugh. “Of course! Of course.” He sighs, and his smile fades. “I really wasn’t going to get involved. I was just gonna get a degree, get a normal enough job, just try to live a life while I could.”

“So do that. The Justice League’s problems aren’t your personal responsibility.”

“No, but— If I have the power to help people— to save people— and I don’t, that kinda makes me a shitty person, no?”

“Not if it means risking the whole life you built.”

“I don’t have a life to risk, remember?”

“You do to me!” He’s raised his voice without meaning to, and Danny looks up at him wide-eyed. Jason’s stomach flips, but he’s still not ready to back down, because it’s true.

The life Danny brought to him over the past months is apparent everywhere around them. His shirts heaped over the chair, the kind of coffee he likes in the cabinet and the mug that’s become his, the dirty dishes from all the meals Jason would have never cooked just for himself, the shitty punk music he insisted on playing. It’s a warmth and a light that’s seeped into his home, and even deeper into the core of himself. He didn’t know he could still feel so alive.

Danny’s eyebrows stitch together and he goes pensive, which Jason rarely has seen. Jason takes a bite of pasta to fill the silence, lukewarm now.

“Oh.” Danny whispers emphatically. “Shit.”

And suddenly Jason is questioning everything. Is this thing they have not real to Danny the way it is for him? Is he just the plaything of a god?

“Jay. I didn’t think—“ he starts and takes a shaky breath. “You’re not supposed to care about me.”

Jason blanks. “What?”

“Im allowed to be human under like, so many conditions. And even then I’m not sure what the hell I even am sometimes. This could all go away at any second, and I have very little control of if and when that happens.”

“So?”

“So? That means I’m going to hurt you, inevitably, whether I want to or not. And I can’t— I won’t—“

Danny’s hands shake, and Jason wordlessly reaches out and pulls him close. He brings Danny’s head to his chest and wraps his arms tight around him. Danny relaxes into him, ear resting over the gentle thud of his heart.

“I don’t care, you dumbass.” And he truly doesn’t. He likes the way Danny makes him feel. He likes the person he is with him. Even if Danny broke his heart on purpose it would still be worth it.

“You should,” the words are muffled through Jason’s shirt. “You shouldn’t want to be with me.”

“Too bad. Also, false. My boyfriend is a god-king with cosmic powers beyond comprehension. Pretty sure that makes me the lucky one.”

Danny chuckles and lifts his chin just enough to meet Jason’s eyes. “I’m going to cosmically comprehend your ass all the way to Pluto if you say something as cringe as that ever again.”

“Mm. Threats. Hot.”

Danny swats at him. Jason just holds him tighter and Danny fights against his arms playfully. Jason knows he could break out at any moment if he really wanted to, but he doesn’t. Instead he settles again, cradled on Jason’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jason breathes into the top of Danny’s mop of hair. “And for now neither are you. And I’ll kick whoever’s ass who has a problem with that.”

“Even mine?”

“Definitely yours.”

“Good.”

Danny lifts up and presses his lips to Jason’s in a cheeky kiss. And Jason eagerly kisses him back.

//

That’s all I’ve got planned for this little AU, thanks for reading :3

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[one-green-frog]

Hi! I was so happy when I saw that your requests were open for your platonic yandere batfam series, also I’m sorry if I send in too many, just do the ones that interest you bc I can’t wait to see them!!

Can I please request them dragging you to a family movie night and sleepover (if you want) together

Snuggled in

By now, it felt like you had lived at the manor since the very beginning. The grand halls, the endless corridors, and the hidden nooks and crannies—all of it was as familiar to you as the back of your hand.

Your life had settled into a new normal. Or at least, as normal as it could be when surrounded by the Wayne family and their complete and utter devotion to you. They were obsessed, and you knew it. Their attention was intense, overwhelming at times, but you had grown to accept it. Maybe even crave it. The way they cared for you, how they anticipated your needs before you even voiced them—it was comforting, intoxicating even.

Earlier today, Dick had texted you.

"Movie night. I'll come get you later."

There was no room for declination, not that you wanted to refuse. Movie nights were one of the best things about living at the manor, especially when everyone was present. It wasn’t just about the films—it was about them, about the closeness, the warmth of being surrounded by people who made you feel safe. Sure, you loved spending time with them individually, but when they were together, it felt like a real family, a family you never wanted to leave.

So, all that was left to do now was wait, to enjoy the "calm before the storm."

It didn’t take long before Dick appeared in your doorway, his signature grin in place as he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you toward the theater room. His grip was firm—just a bit tighter than necessary, as if he feared you might pull away. As if he was still afraid you might reject them.

You knew they had doubts. That paranoia whispered to them constantly, telling them that your love for them wasn’t real, that one day, if they let their guard down, you’d disappear. It hurt knowing they feared that, but at the same time, you understood. They knew what they were doing wasn’t exactly right. The way they needed you, the way they clung to you—it was too much, even by their own standards. And yet, they couldn’t stop.

And you? You didn’t fight it. Maybe you should have, but deep down, you liked the way they cared for you. How they made you feel wanted.

When you arrived, everyone was already there, and unsurprisingly, a spot had been saved just for you. Judging by the tension in the air, there must have been a fight before you got here. The privilege of sitting next to you wasn’t something any of them would just give up. It seemed that this time, Damian and Dick had won, both looking entirely too pleased with themselves while the others shot them varying degrees of annoyance.

But now that you were here, no one dared to argue.

Time with you was precious, something none of them wanted to risk ruining. You were the one thing that held them together, that kept them from spiraling apart. They all knew it.

“Jason, why don't you pick the movie?” you said as you settled into your seat.

Jason raised a brow, looking mildly surprised but pleased. He was always good at picking movies, always knowing exactly what suited your mood. Sometimes, he chose thrillers, knowing you enjoyed the adrenaline rush. Other times, he picked romances, sweet and indulgent. No matter what he chose, you knew it would be perfect.

But in the end, the movie never really mattered.

Because the real highlight was always the closeness, the warmth of your family surrounding you.

Dick wasted no time wrapping himself around you, his body practically molding to yours. He had always been the most physically affectionate, taking any excuse to hold you. On your other side, Damian leaned against you, quiet but solid, his presence grounding. He never admitted it, but during movie nights, he always ended up snuggled against you like a cat seeking warmth.

Time passed in a comfortable blur. The others rotated around you, each finding a way to be close. Jason would ruffle your hair as he got up to grab snacks, Tim would drape himself lazily against your side when exhaustion took over, and even Bruce—ever the stoic—would rest a steady hand on your shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was there.

It was getting late, the movie long ended and the comforting presence of everyone slowly lulled you to sleep. You tried to fight it, wanting to enjoy the moment more, but at some point you lost the fight with sleep.

Your head grew heavier, your body sinking into the warmth around you. The others noticed almost immediately. Their voices quieted, movements slowed, as if afraid to wake you.

Bruce was the first to move. Carefully, he lifted you into his arms, his grip firm yet gentle, while Dick untangled Damian from your lap. He fell asleep first and somehow always ending up in your lap, snuggling into you as if seeking your warmth. The transition was smooth, practiced. They had done this before.

Your room was dark and quiet when Bruce laid you down, pulling the blankets over you with practiced ease. He lingered, brushing a hand through your hair, his eyes never leaving your face.

You had saved him. Saved all of them.

Bruce had long believed that some wounds would never heal, that his family would remain fractured, bound together only by shared tragedy. But then you came along—his son, his light, the one thing that brought them back together.

There were many things he regretted. Things he would never be able to fix.

But with you here, it felt like he had a second chance.

That was enough.

And as he sat beside you, watching over you as you slept, he let himself believe—just for tonight—that everything was exactly as it should be.

Taglist: @lilyalone

This was so much fun writing!

Thank you so much for requesting, I'll get to your other ask as soon as possible!

[this-resident-is-evil]

Mountain Laurel

Note: I’ve been seeing some people wishing there was more lore accurate Leon, you know the guy who is awkward with women. So… I thought which role is the best fit for him other than the hades the Greek god of the underworld himself. Hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Hades Leon S. Kennedy x Persephone fem reader

Synopsis: You are Persephone one of Zeus’s many daughters and one of the younger goddesses. Your power to grow flowers and them appearing in your hair usually matches your emotional state. Life seems bleak and difficult, until you become the new queen of the underworld.

Contains: Incestual relationships (You know how the Greek gods are), Hinting at nonconsensual intercourse (not from Leon), passionate sex, hand job (m and f receiving), vaginal penetration, praise kink, body worship, unprotected sex, breeding kink (kind of?)

Warning: Minors do not interact.

Leon made his way through the marble building. The ancient Greek gods have accumulated amongst the humans for a long time now and seemed to be respected by the mortals. He stood in front the chambers where he would usually find his brother cheating on his wife with mortal sex workers.

He always felt awkward walking in on him and desperately tried to convince his brother to meet him dressed for once. But he was no king of Olympus and had no place ordering his brother around. Zeus was a stubborn fellow after all.

He knocks on the door hoping that the naked bodies of women wouldn’t greet him the moment he opened the door or was allowed the entrance.

“Come in.” A deep rumbling voice was heard from the other side of the large door and he opened it.

Of course, Zeus was sprawled in the middle of a large bed, his back against the headboard. Four women were tucked into his large frame luckily covered but considering the importance of the meeting he assumed Zeus would kick them out.

“Hades. We were meeting today?” Zeus chuckles.

“It’s Leon, brother.” He speaks up.

“You are not insisting on still keeping your alias?” Zeus mocked with a belly rumbling laugh. “Fine, fine, Leon…” He sighs. “What do you need?”

Leon swallowed a lump forming in his throat. He felt odd talking about this very topic in front of women he has never seen, who were also most defiantly naked beneath the silk sheets.

“I need a wife. The underworld is getting tedious to rule on my own.” He spoke up and Zeus’s expression shifts to a more serious one.

“You are free to go.” He spoke to the women.

While three of them tried to coax him into letting them stay a bit longer or praising his performance there was one that caught Leon’s eye. A woman who was quick to leave the bed and attempted to appear small and insignificant.

It was you. Bare as the day you were born rushing to find clothing to cover your bare body with and you were gone. He noticed your hair filled with Mountain Laurel’s a poisonous flower one even dropped at Leon’s feet as you were making record time in leaving the room.

He bent down to pick it up and take a better look at the flower. The mostly white petals with hints of pink felt soft to the touch. He wasn’t big on flowers but this one caught his attention when Demiter was yapping away about her daughter’s capabilities.

Luckily the said flower distracted him from accidentally making eye contact with the naked women leaving Zeus’s bed.

“So, a wife.” Zeus spoke up the moment the door closed behind the women. He stood up in all his naked glory pulling a silk robe over his shoulders. “You have anyone in mind?”

Leon pocketed the flower as he turned his attention towards his brother. “What about the young lady who left first?”

Zeus’s thick brows furrow at the mention. “Persephone?” He questions and Leon nods. “Brother, you can’t be serious.” He mocked.

“I’m serious.” Leon spoke firmly.

“She is used goods. I will find you a virgin goddess.” He waved it off.

“I’d prefer not to wed a virgin goddess.” Leon spoke up firmly.

Zeus chuckled. “What does it matter? It is not as if you can bear a child.”

This struck a nerve with the king of the underworld. He straightened his posture stating that he was firm in his request. Zeus’s look softened at the sight of his brother.

“Very well then.” He spoke in the end. “You can take her right now.”

It was disgusting. Treating her like a cow someone could just take away and not caring in the slightest. Persephone was his daughter… but this was Zeus. A man with too many children to count both gods and goddesses as well as half mortals. He had a different women warm his bed while his lovely wife was busy organizing banquets and family gatherings.

Zeus gave Leon a general direction where to go to speak to Persephone and he was quick on his feet to formally and officially meet his new wife. It felt wrong to him to just come up to her bedroom and say ‘hi there pack your stuff you are marrying me’. But how else could he put it? He struggled with many different approaches until he finally made it to her door.

A soft knock and a short wait later there you stood. Leon was smitten. All his speeches and offerings evaporating from his mind the moment his eyes landed on you. You looked tired and even broken most likely from all the hardships Zeus put you through.

“Can I help you?” You spoke up breaking Leon’s trance making him blink rapidly.

“I um… How do I put it…” He stumbles through his words your kind eyes making his mind run blank. “Are you alright?” Is the first thing that leaves his mouth after a longer pause.

This question caught you off guard. Before you, stood the Hades, the god of the dead and the king of the underworld and he was checking in if you were, okay?

“Yeah…” You lie through your teeth as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and another Mountain Laurel drops from your locks onto the ground.

“Please don’t lie.” He speaks and your eyes widen. Was he really the scary god you have heard rumors about?

You bite down on your lower lip and sigh. “No. I’m not.” You speak your voice breaking in the moment.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He almost stammers through the question but manages to keep his voice and tone even.

“I’m sorry, what?” You question.

“Do you want to get away from him? He won’t touch you again, you will stay in a safe place, far, far away from here.” He began explaining.

Your expression is taken over by shock and you were wary of his offer. He could just replace your current abuser and be even worse. However, there was just something about him. He was nervous, cautious and awkward as if he didn’t know how to best offer his aid to a person in clear need of some help.

“Yes.” Escapes your mouth before you think too clearly about it. Was it desperation or something else? You couldn’t tell. He was offering a lamp in the never-ending darkness, a hand to raise you from the despair and lift you to the grassy plains you always saw in paintings.

And so, it was… Leon took you to his penthouse in the mortal realm, offered you shelter from the horrible storm Zeus created and treated you with nothing but kindness and care. He was still very much odd in comparison to the other gods you have met but this was a welcomed difference.

The two weeks you rested and took time to process the horrors you went through and those two weeks were refreshing. Leon always stayed in a room of his own while allowing you to give the guest room your own touch. What else could it be but flowers you grew yourself?

Leon was curious and peaked at now your bedroom while you were in the shower. The flowers were vibrant, beautiful and very poisonous. Lantanas on the windowsill were bright red and orange making the window look as if it was painted in the sunset’s colors. Along one of the walls proudly stood the Lily of the Valley as well as several Foxgloves. They didn’t pose much harm unless consumed but what worried him was the Wisteria flowers hanging from the ceiling.

If he remembers correctly those are not harmful for humans but for animals like cats or dogs. If Cerberus the three headed hound was to eat some it would be harmful for him.

“Mr. Leon.” You squeak the moment you saw him in your bedroom.

“Just Leon is fine…” He speaks up now feeling the anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach. “I just wanted to see the flowers…” He adds.

“Okay…” You speak awkwardly. “I’m not letting Cerberus in there. Wisteria could be harmful if he was to eat some.” You add and a hint of a smile appears in the corner of his lips.

“Thank you.”

You nod holding onto a damp towel you usually placed on a radiator in your bedroom. Just then the pitter patter of claws against the hardwood floors turns your attention to the three headed dog that stared into your soul.

He was quick to tuck one of his heads into your side practically demanding that you pet all three of his heads. “He took a liking to you.” Leon speaks up.

“Yes, I suppose he did.” You say as you lower your free hand to pet Cerberus on one of his heads.

“You two will protect the house then.” He spoke. “I have a meeting I must attend tonight… hopefully it won’t take too long.”

You took a better look at him noticing he wore a perfectly tailored suit with a Mountain Laurel tucked into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. It looked as if it was on the verge of wilting away.

You picked one of the smaller lilies now growing among your locks and replace the sad flower with a fresher one. His blue eyes stare into your own at the gesture and he gives you a nod of approval before leaving the pent house.

Left to your own devices you made your way to a bookshelf standing in the living room. Among the old classics and newer works, you run your fingers along the spines. Recently you finished reading The Count of Monte Cristo and now it was time to occupy your time with something else.

Your finger lands on the spine that read The Frankenstein... intrigued you pick it up and open it. What you found inside were newspapers neatly bent and placed between the pages. You take the paper and unfold it to find the flowers that grew in your hair from the moment the two of you met. The Lilly, the Water Hemlock, The Oleander and of course the Mountain Laurel. The very same he picked from the ground as you rushed out of Zeus’s chambers.

He pressed to preserve the flowers growing in your hair. Commemorating the stages of healing you passed in the last two weeks. Your heart warms as you put everything back in place. From that day onwards every time Leon had to leave the pent house you tucked a fresh flower into his breast pocket. Calendulas, Dahlias, Cornflowers, Pansies and lastly Roses.

He was kind and patient with you giving you support and care you couldn’t even dream of receiving while you still lived in the Olympus villa. He even insisted for you to pick a name of your own, one that he would call you and one that you felt comfortable having.

“(Y/N)…” He spoke up one evening tucking your attention away from a book you were reading. “I didn’t want to bring this up while you were still vulnerable and getting better but I think I should now…” He seemed nervous, hands seemed to clamp up as he rubbed them against his pants. “When we met… I came to Zeus to discuss me finding a wife.”

“Is that why you were going on meetings so often?” You question your heart feeling as if a dangerous string was tightening against the beating organ.

“Well yes… um… I asked Zeus for your hand in marriage.” He admits and your eyes widen. “I should have said something sooner and I’m deeply sorry for keeping this…”

“Why me?” The question escapes you.

He is taken aback by the question. “I’ll be frank… I have never seen a woman run for their life from Zeus and I just had to meet you. And when I did, I was…”

You await his continuation and he just can’t seem to find the right words to explain the hurricane of emotions that over took him the moment he saw you. He was enchanted with your beauty, charmed by your honesty when he kindly asked for it, knowing that I would make you vulnerable if you did speak the truth, he was angered by the pain a sweet doe such as yourself carried on her shoulders.

“I was smitten, enchanted, charmed, enamored, as if the fates have decided to bless me with such treasure. I went to those meetings to convince your mother to allow me to take you to the underworld with me. If you of course so wished. And she was a tough nut to crack.” He sighs.

Your brows furrow in confusion. How was your mother in charge of your own choices. Leon was giving you the choice to reject him and to walk away from the marriage he proposed but alas why would you? He treated you like a queen, his queen.

“She demanded that you spend spring and summer with her in the overworld. And you can stay with me in the underworld during winter and autumn.” He clarified noticing your confusion.

“How about a whole year?” You spoke up with determination laced in your tone.

Leon’s mouth opens slightly and he closes it. “You-“

“I don’t want to be controlled. I’m not a puppet. So yes, I will marry you and become your queen of the underworld.”

That was all he needed. The marriage ceremony as a whole didn’t take long and you were adorned in bridal wear as you stepped onto the Charon’s boat with Leon by your side. Demiter of course threw a fit over it all and demanded that you hold up the deal she made with Leon. Which was the whole catch. She made that deal with your now husband, not with yourself.

The boat ride was far from romantic the screaming souls of the dead pierced your ears but you didn’t mind it. This was going to be your life now and you willingly stepped onto the path that will lead you into the deepest parts of the underworld.

The house of Hades was adorned in reds, oranges and yellows it looked beautiful from old statues all the way to a deserted part in the west wing of the main hall where damned souls waited patiently in line awaiting their judgement.

Leon was quick to lift you off your feet carrying you, bridal style towards his chambers. He was practically attacked by workers under his care to get back to work but the fact that he now held and former Olympian goddess in his arms made them grow silent instantly.

“This will be our bedroom.” He spoke the moment he set you on your own two feet taking the room in.

It was spacious and adorned in memorabilia that just screamed it was his. “It looks lovely…”

“You… you can change it…” He was quick to offer. “However, nothing grows in the underworld, nothing really lives… but you could have gathered as much.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You smile at him and he has that look in his eyes.

He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, now the flowers adorning your locks were the ones of a pomegranate. “You are…. Stunning.” He stumbles over the last word. “I just… want you to feel comfortable… and I know there are expectations… to… consummate the marriage but… there is really no need for it. I… do not expect you to…”

“I want to.” You interrupt his speech and you swore you could see a hint of a blush paint his cheeks.

All of your experiences thus far were unpleasant to say the least. You just needed something much nicer to replace the horrors that made Mountain Laurels begin growing among your locks.

“Okay…” He clears his throat. “Um… if you wish to stop at any moment just say so I will stop.” He clarifies as he steps forward his wedding robes perfectly framing his well-built body making you swallow a lump forming in your throat.

He was careful slowly moving his hand to hold your chin and guiding your head to look up at him. Already you had a feeling this will go differently than when you were violated by your own father.

Leon leaned in closer pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. Zeus would never, he would grab you by the throat and basically suck all of the air out of your body with his lips. Leon was so calm, so slow… his other hand moving to gently trace his fingers up your arms and down.

He took hold of your forearm guiding your hand to press it against his chest. He craved your touch. You took his movement as a sign to lift up your other hand placing it on the side of his neck.

The slow and gentle movement of lips began turning a bit more passionate and before you knew it you were pressed against his chest kissing him to the best of your ability. Your arms wrapping around his neck.

Leon lifted you off your feet carrying you to the lavish bed. His lips not moving once from yours as he laid you down on top of it. “You are beautiful.” He speaks his voice turning huskier.

The warmth you felt in your cheeks seemed to intensify as he spoke those sweet words. Your hair was spread against the pillow the petals falling all over the sheets and the floor. It made you feel vulnerable and somewhat uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” He questions the moment he noticed the shift in your expression.

“I- I don’t know…” You stutter.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no… I…” You sigh your brows furrowing.

Leon stills as he looks at you from above… there was a worried look pooling in his eyes. You could see the cogs turn in his head as he was thinking of a way to make you more comfortable. His blue irises were unfocused and until he looked straight into your eyes with determination.

“How about this…” He speaks as he picks you off the bed and switches places with you. He was now sat on the bed against the headboard and he sat you so you would straddle his lap. “You are the one in control…” He offers and your brows furrow in confusion. “Use my body to make yourself feel good.”

“I can’t do that.” You counter.

“I… want you to. I want you to feel pleasure… and if I can make it more comfortable for your I will…” Your heart warms at his reassurance. “So… use me…” He speaks; his tone was slightly unsure but his eyes were filled with determination.

You were sure you can do this. This man was your husband, kind, thoughtful and desperate to make you comfortable as well as make you feel as safe as he possibly could. So, you reach for his hands and place them on your hips.

You then move your hands to his robes pushing them off his body. His chest was full of battle scars. Some of them mere scratches but some deep and gnarly looking gashes. Your hand traces the scarred flesh and he shivers under your touch.

“They must have hurt…” You speak; your mind enveloped in a trance like state.

“Yours too…” He pulls on your clothing revealing some of the marks you had.

“They are not nearly as bad as yours.” You counter him and he chuckles.

His hand moves a strand of your hair behind your ear and cups your face. “Every scar has a story… we don’t need to compare them to acknowledge the fact that we felt pain.”

You lean in closer to him to place another kiss on his lips. This one was far shorter than when he kissed you and you think of what you wanted him to do. “Undress me.” You order.

His hands move up to push your wedding garments off your shoulders and you notice a slight tremor in his hands. He was nervous, nervous to be intimate with someone, nervous that he will hurt you, even if it was unintentional he would never forgive himself for harming you.

“I… don’t…” You sigh… you couldn’t pick where to start, what to do… how are you supposed to know what you wanted when you were never asked… or were never allowed to express.

“I want to kiss every inch of your skin…” He announces… his cheeks turning a shade darker. “Can… can I?”

A nod of your head and he leans in closer pressing a gentle kiss on your lips then moving lower. The feeling of his lips against your neck made you shiver. You held onto his bare shoulders for support as his lips began moving over your collarbone then over your shoulders.

“Can I go lower?” He asks and you hum in approval. He pushed more of the fabric to the side exposing your bare breasts to the slight chill in the air.

He pressed his lips over your breasts and took one of your nipples into his mouth. Your thighs clench against his from the sensation and your grip on his shoulders grows stronger. Before you knew it his mouth was on the other breast making small whimpers of pleasure escape your lips.

“Me… too…” You sigh… “I want to kiss you too...”

Leon leans back against the headboard giving you access to his chest. You leaned closer placing feather light kiss against his neck. He noticeably shivers and you feel a bulge forming beneath you. You look down and you know what is hiding beneath the fabric of his wedding garments.

“It’s…” He stumbles in his attempt to ease your mind but the moment you placed your hand over it his flinches almost choking on his saliva. Wide blue eyes make contact with yours. Your hand moves up and down along the length.

He was half Zeus’s size in length, about half a foot if you had to be specific, but what he was lacking in length or better yet not lacking considering the monstrosity Zeus carried beneath the thin fabrics Leon made up in grith. It was intimidating, the sheer thickness of it all.

“You don’t… have to…” Leon sighs at your movement, his shoulders were turning blush red as well as his cheeks.

“I want to.” You spoke.

“I want to make you feel good too.” Leon sighs as one of his hands moves up your thigh closer to your center.

“You can…”

His hand moves between your legs, his middle finger running along your slit. “You actually want this…” He spoke… it was as if it surprised him that he could feel your arousal.

You nod confirming… of course you wanted it. You were just scared. That it will be the same as it was before. But no matter what you trusted Leon. Your now husband. Your now king…

His fingers moved more entering your most sensitive place. You moaned as he pumped them inside you. First one, then two… then three… it didn’t hurt unlike when you felt this before and you pant against him. Your forehead leaned against his for support as your breaths mix in between.

Your hand began moving more confidently every stroke deliberate as the two of you pleasure each other. Leon swore under his breath several times and sooner rather than later the movements of your hands were in sync.

“I want to feel you… around me…” Leon spoke up an embarrassed tone hiding beneath the husky desire.

“Me too…” You pant.

“You are in charge.” He reminds you as he removes the fabric covering his length. The angry red tip stood proudly somehow; he looked even thicker than when you could barely wrap your hands around him earlier. Every vein that snaked around his length looked to be deliberate as if his whole purpose as a god was to give pleasure.

But alas he was the god of the dead and not love or sex. Not that it mattered. He helped you line up your hips with his length and was there to help you keep your balance. “Easy… at your own pace.” He reminds you.

You slowly lower your hips and feel the tip entering you. “That… is a lot…” You point out and he holds back a chuckle.

You move lower and get to about half way before you have to pause. The stretch was a different sensation that you didn’t expect to feel tonight. It wasn’t bad just… different. Leon patiently waits for you to adjust and the moment you took him in completely he bottoms out with a throaty moan.

“Fuck…” He groans. “(Y/N)….”

You let out a noise that was a mix between a hum and a whine as you attempted to get used to the thick length inside you.

“You… feel… so… fucking… good.” He pants between each word.

His praises and cloudy eyes make you want to see more of it. What expression he will make if you began moving? What if you moved faster? What if you were in a different position? The possibilities seemed to be endless, and you just had to see all of it…

You move your hips up and down and he forces his hands to grip the sheets, he wanted to touch you oh so desperately but there was that fear. You seemed to be so frail, what if he put too much pressure on your body?

“Leon…” You moan his name desperation hidden beneath the surface of your tone. “Touch me, please.” You plead.

And how is he supposed to say no? His hands move to your hips aiding you in your movements and leaning forward to silence his moans as much as he possibly could by kissing your breasts.

The sound of skin slapping against skin feels the room together with needy moans and pants, you swore the room got so much warmer than when you entered it earlier. It didn’t take long for a strange feeling develop in your stomach.

“Leon… I… feel weird…” You stumble to finish the sentence.

“It’s okay… let it go…” Taking his advice you relax and a sensation of pure ecstasy takes over your whole body. “That’s it… come on your throne…” Leon smiles against your skin. The pure huskiness in his voice makes you shiver. “You, okay?”

Your eyes were clouded with lust and desire. The pleasure was all too much for you to speak in the moment so you nod to answer his question.

Leon flips the two of you so you were laying on your back his length barely moving inside you as he held most of his weight on his arms. “Let me do all the work.” The blush on his cheeks was far darker than when you began consummating your marriage.

His hips begin moving in a slow and steady rhythm making you unravel under his touch. Panting and moaning his name you grab a hold of his shoulders to ground yourself. When his hips begin to move in a more rapid pace your nails dig into his skin and he groans. Each time he moves it feels as if he is reaching deeper into your core.

“L-Leon…” You stutter through the moans.

“You are doing so well… my queen…” He moans into your ear making you shiver yet again. Not even the gods know how many times goosebumps formed on your skin from his voice alone.

You can feel each vein and the moment he is about to reach his peak somehow you could tell he was about to feel the same overwhelming pleasure you felt while you were nested in his lap.

“I wish…” Thrust… “I could…” Thrust… “Give…” Thrust… “You…” Thrust… “A child…” He speaks absentmindedly. “Please come with me…” He begs.

Leon uses one of his arms to rub your clit and it takes seconds to get you to the same state he was in. You mumble under your breath and the both of you reach the climax. You spasming around his length and he deep inside you.

He pants as he leans his forehead against yours. He stayed like that for several minutes before his mind cleared and he picked you up taking you to a bath to clean you up. His bare feet walking over the lose petals that escaped your hair.

 The warm water relaxed your tense muscles as he joined you in the bath seating himself behind you and rubbing a wash cloth over your skin…

“Can I ask you something?” You turn your head to the side so your profile is facing him and you can catch a glimpse of his stunning blue eyes from your peripheral vision.

“Anything…” He speaks as he kisses your shoulder.

“You said you wished you could give me a child… does that mean you can’t?”

He tenses at your question. “No, I cannot.”

“Why?” You lean back against his chest.

He clears his throat. “Nothing grows in the underworld… and since I’m the king I cannot bear children by any means… now unfortunately… the only thing that seem to grow down here is the flowers in your hair…” He explains with a sigh as he reaches for the pomegranate flower that fell from your hair and was now floating in the soapy water…

The revelation saddened you but it still wouldn’t make you change your mind on the decision you have made when you married him. You were now his queen and you wouldn’t dare to break his heart by leaving him especially after all that he had done for you.

It turns out that the abandoned and ghostly west part of the house of Hades was a garden with tainted soil. You spent your alone time in there and on one particular day you buried some flowers into the soil.

Many days later you revisited the garden and there it was a single sprout peaking from the soil. Your hand automatically reaches for your stomach… perhaps… it was not so impossible to grow in the land of the dead.  

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 20

This one is a bit shorter than the last 🫠

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 20 >>next(TBC)

The interaction between you and Nolan was still awkward. It was weird to see him this soft and you still felt on edge like you couldn’t quite believe all it took for him to try and do better was some talking to- Bruce didn’t even let you say more than a sentence in his presence, let alone get emotional about things and try to have a conversation about it.

Overall, the past week you’ve been kind of disassociating while working on rebuilding, occupying your time with that and helping Andressa take care of the baby, occasionally texting Debbie anything from updates to “I miss you”, to “I miss your food”, to cute pictures of the little menace being funny, kept you somewhat present-minded.

Your eyes drifted to Andressa, who has been aging more and more. Her movements were slowing down, she was getting more tired, and she was having more problems with her joints. You noticed that with everyone. The kids who helped you sometimes were now teens, the babies were slowly becoming toddlers, and yet your little brother was still in the baby range.

Andressa calling your name brought you back to reality. Your eyes meet as she sighs, sitting on an armchair while you keep playing with her baby’s hair, twirling it into spikes and horns. “I… I need to ask a big favor out of you and your family.” She starts softly, her finger tapping nervously. You stop and give her all the attention as she continues speaking.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Debbie’s day has been… better. It’s all getting better. Slowly, but she’s getting there. She wanted to be petty and give Nolan’s things away, but she had a feeling he’d be coming back with you and Mark, so she did the next best thing and moved his stuff into the smallest bedroom. Well, it was more of an office with a beat-up couch; he didn’t deserve an actual bedroom.

And in hindsight, she was glad she did. “Well… he is cute.” She concedes while smiling softly as the toddler cooed up at her, all coddled up in her lap. Her hand gently ran across his small back. Andressa just smiles. “Thank you. And thank you for wanting to hear me out and for letting me into your home. I know I’m asking for a lot, for way too much even considering everything- but Nolan isn’t exactly the best at being present enough for a kid.”

Debbie laughed at that. “Yeah, I know. Can’t count the times I had to step in for things he promised Mark.” You smiled softly as the two women got along, laughing at Nolan’s actions and awkwardness towards raising the babies. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve gotta go back and make sure the men don’t find us plotting against them.” You joked while opening a portal.

“Bye, sweetheart, make sure your brother eats lunch! Oh, was Nolan scared of holding him? Because he was terrified of holding Mark as a baby- you should have seen him- I think I have some photos-“ You snickered, finally leaving the two to their gossiping.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mark and Nolan were too busy helping rebuild buildings to notice you and Andressa being missing. Granted, some men are the biggest gossipers known to mankind. “Yeah, so your dear daughter took a plate of these mini cakes and just smashed it across Bruce’s face- mushing it around. Lex was having a field day. It was so weird to see him so genuinely happy.”

“Is there video footage of it? I would love to see that.” Nolan laughs along. “Dude, there’s so much footage- Lex has like fifteen to thirty cameras in a room, he made compilations of it!” Mark looks at the smiling man. “He even had a camera in the buttons of his suit. He gave that first-row view of the cake smash to the highest bidder.”

“And he still shares the memes on his social media.” Your voice cut through their laughter, making the young man snort. “No! He still does? Is he set on never making Bruce forget that?” Nolan looks at his cackling son. “Would you let the man forget that?” His smirk only gets wider as his son beams with a no.

Nolan gently nudged you away as he told Mark to take a break. “We need to talk.” You pouted at his words while landing on a rooftop. “We talked.” Your grumble was met with a raised eyebrow. “No. We fought, and then you interrogated me about the Justice League.” He chides. “We need to have a serious talk.”

The old Viltrumite could see the nervousness and doubt in you. So, he wanted to make sure you knew where you stood. “I know my actions hurt you in ways I don’t think will be fully salvageable. I won’t try to justify myself, I won’t try to tell you that you’re wrong for feeling any negative sentiments towards me. You have every right to because you are correct in your points. I was a coward, I should have gone to the guardians and faced their ire. I should have trusted that you and Mark had my back.”

“No matter what, if you hate me, if you don’t want to see me again, you’ll always be my daughter, my baby.” The hand he put on your shoulder was warm and slightly shaky, betraying how nervous he actually felt. “I’ll always be in your corner, no matter what, no matter how hard you try to push me away. I’ll make sure to repent for my mistakes towards you, Mark, and Debbie for the rest of my life.”

“Stop it.” You sniff. “You’ll make me cry again. And damn right you’ll repent for what you did. I’ll make sure of it.” He smiles as you gently slap his arm. “I’ll hold you to it.” His eyebrows furrowed, asking if you had seen Andressa since she hadn’t come to check up on them in a while. “She’s taking a nap. Don’t disturb your baby mama, ass.” You roll your eyes while lifting off the ground, flying away as the man pouts.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Harvey Dent raised an eyebrow at the message he received, a shit-eating grin overtaking his mug. “Looks like our little magic girl is coming back to the planet in a few days. With a few stowaways.” Two-Face shows the message to Jason. “How mad do you think Bruce will be?”

Jason just gives the man an evil smile. “Very.” The young man almost purrs as he begins giggling, laughing as if he was snorting Joker Gas. Roy Harper just looks at the scene with a shaky smile. “Ok… I think I need someone to spill some tea about what’s happening.” Harvey just scoffs. “Take a seat if you really want to know. It’s a long story.”

Roy just shrugs, pulling the chair out and dropping into it. "I think you're just exaggerating there, law man." That seems to only make Jason laugh harder, creating doubt into the young father. "Oh- you'll regret saying that by the time we're done." Our favorite crime lord counters, snickering as he pours his friend a glass of whiskey.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince

[revelboo]

no requests, just wanna show my appreciation for your transformers x reader stories and your writing in general. keep up the amazing work and take time for yourself when you can 🩷

also have a sillie meme cuz your starscream x reader content feeds me well lol

Thank you! 💕 I’m glad you like my nonsense!

Bottom Feeder Pt 7

TFP Starscream x Reader

• Yawning, you settle more into the crook of his arm as he strides down the hall. Almost positive that he sees you as the alien equivalent to a tiny, purse dog and you want to be offended by that, but no one’s ever fawned over you like he does before. And it’s kind of nice even as a part of you is aware that you should be trying to escape for the sake of your dignity, not playing pet to an alien. “Oh, he acts all high and mighty,” he’s saying in his raspy voice as he rubs a servo between your shoulder blades. “But everyone knows he’s fragging Breakdown.”

• “No,” you whisper, sounding absolutely scandalized as you look up at him and his wings flick. Nodding at Knockout snarling at a couple of Vehicons for getting in his way and when you make a noise. Watches you break into a grin, barring those little teeth at him. And you’re cute for a little savage. How long has it been since he’s had this? Someone to talk freely with without the fear of them running to Megatron to repeat everything he says? He’s missed this. “You know you have to explain fragging.” Wings flaring slightly, he almost stumbles. “I need context.”

• Your big turkey somehow knows all the alien gossip. And he’s too eager to share. There’s just the issue of words not translating right. Like fragging. Because it almost seems like it’s alien slang for fucking and if these guys have sex, you’re morbidly curious about it. How does that work exactly? Oh, it absolutely means sex. It has to for how flustered he looks, grimacing and looking around like he’s afraid someone will overhear. “Don’t be obscene,” he hisses and you bite into the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Definitely sex.

• “You can’t just leave it at that. Inquiring minds need to know,” you counter, grinning up at him. Not caring. And that’s something he’s already figured out about humans, you’re inquisitive. Constantly asking about everything. “Do you guys have stuff downstairs?” Wings tucking close to his frame, he vents. Are you really asking about spikes and valves? You really are a little savage.

• “This isn’t an appropriate conversation,” he growls, looking nervously around. And he almost looks like he might blow a gasket, wings flicking. Alien sex and alien dick? He’s not going to just pretend he didn’t bring it up. You absolutely have to know now. Fascinated as you try to imagine if it’s actual dick or if it’s some weird, sci-fi lovecraftian horror going on downstairs.

• “That’s what makes it awesome. I need details,” you insist and he swallows a groan. Why had he let that slip about Knockout? Knows you well enough by now that you’re not dropping this ever. “Can I see yours for scientific reasons?” And he almost drops you, his loud, horrified ‘no!’ drawing everyone’s attention. Heads turning to stare at him as his wings tuck close to his frame. Speed walking away and pressing a servo over your soft mouth in case you blurt out any more wholly inappropriate things, he shudders. Don’t you have any sense of propriety? You don’t just ask to see someone’s spike. Who does that? Humans apparently.

Previous

[starsinthesky5]

what about joe? is he mr. possessive too?

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

oh, absolutely. joe is just as possessive, if not more. i mean, look at who he's with? millions of men and women had their hearts broken the moment the first photo of joe and her surfaced. plenty of people want her, but they just can’t have her…and joe makes sure of that ;)

the difference is that while she wears her possessiveness and jealousy like a statement piece--subtle but unmistakable--joe’s possessiveness is quieter, more controlled. but don’t get me wrong, it’s there, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to show itself. he was always, and i mean always calm, cool, and collected. on and off the field.

like when some random guy gets a little too comfortable in her space, touching her arm when he laughs at something she said, or leaning in just a little too close. joe doesn’t make a scene, doesn’t immediately pull her away, but his hand finds the small of her back, fingers spreading wide across her skin. he does that to not only calm himself, but calm her in case she ever felt uncomfortable from any of the attention she received, and sometimes she did. sometimes the looks would linger a second longer than they were meant to, sometimes a touch felt more forceful than playful, and sometimes she could sense the unspoken intentions behind a seemingly harmless gesture.

and when joe noticed (which was always) his eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and anyone paying attention would know--he was warning them.

nobody is about to mess with his girl while he’s right there. nope. not happening. her comfort, safety, and happiness was his number 1 priority at any given time.

but he wouldn't always become possessive because he felt the need to protect her, there were some moments when she wore something that makes her look so good it physically hurt, and he believed that only he was meant to see her looking like this. he won’t tell her to change--he loves when she looks good, loves when she feels confident--but his hand stays on her, a silent reminder to everyone else that she’s his.

doesn't matter where, her hip, her thigh, her back, her arm...his hand is there.

and then there are moments when it’s just them--when the world fades away and all that’s left is heat and hunger and him. when he’s pressing her into the mattress, hands everywhere, touch burning and possessive. his breath is hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine as he murmurs, "mine. say it."

but it’s not just a request--it’s a demand.

his fingers tighten on her hips, holding her there, keeping her exactly where he wants her. his lips trace a slow path down her neck, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin, making her whimper. he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to push her to the edge before he’s even inside her. she’s breathless, dizzy with need, but he won’t move until he hears it.

"joe--,".

his grip tightens. "baby, say it,".

his voice is rough, wrecked, on the edge of losing control. she arches into him, nails raking down his back, eyes hazy with desire as she gasps, "yours. i’m yours, i promise,".

and that’s all it takes.

—

so, yes--mr. possessive is very much alive and breathing. and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

he never took it too far, never made it feel intimidating or aggressive. he was protective over her, and she was extremely grateful for that (mostly because her exes could never come close to how joe was so...man. does that even make sense? like 6'4, muscles for days, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that shined brighter than the rarest jewels in the world. like he was so man. so knight-in-shining armor coded). you know those tweets asking if a celebrities ex could fight because their significant other looked so damn gorgeous and the fans want a piece of that? well, prior to joe, her exes, no matter which one, would easily be mauled by the heard of fans that rode for her. they didn’t stand a chance.

but joe? oh, joey b knew how to fight.

oh, and he knew how exactly lucky he was to have stolen her heart, and she loved knowing that he never took that for granted. he was honestly wrapped around her pretty little finger, but in the best, most precious way possible.

his possessiveness came solely from a place of love, because joe burrow was not keen on the idea of sharing the best thing that quite literally had ever happened to him, with the entire world.

for example:

mr. possessive™ at paris fashion week.

—

she looks stunning. like, jaw-droppingly, heart-stoppingly, paris-just-declared-her-a-national-treasure stunning.

joe knew she would, duh. he’s seen her in everything, and more importantly, in nothing, but there’s something about the way she carries herself tonight--graceful, confident, walking beside him like she belongs on the cover of vogue--that has him feeling some type of way.

or maybe it’s the way everyone is looking at her that's affecting him--because everyone is looking at her.

the event is a who’s who of the fashion world, and they’re here as guests, dressed to the nines, mingling with designers, models, and celebrities. but no matter where they go, no matter who they talk to, joe can feel eyes on her. the cameras flashed like crazy when they arrived, the crowd buzzing with excitement as they made their way inside. she’s a star in her own right, and joe loves that. loves that she’s not just known as his girlfriend--she’s her.

multi-platinum, award-winning singer-songwriter. the pop princess herself.

like, hell yeah. he's her boyfriend if anything.

but with that title and prestige, those looks and eyes came naturally. one guy in particular--some too-pretty-for-his-own-good european actor type--has been looking at her a little too long.

joe notices it when they first arrive. then again during cocktail hour. and now, as they make their way to their seats for the show, pretty boy is back, standing just a few feet away, sipping his champagne and watching.

joe clenches his jaw, his fingers flexing slightly where they rest against her lower back.

she hasn’t noticed yet, too busy talking with the designer of the show they’re about to watch, laughing softly at something she says. joe loves her laugh, loves that she’s having fun, but it’s hard to focus when this guy is still looking at her like she’s up for auction.

and then--get this--he actually makes his move.

what a stupid, stupid mistake.

the guy steps forward, a confident smile on his lips as he says something to her in french--because of course he does.

joe doesn’t even give her a chance to respond. before she can turn to acknowledge him, joe is there.

his arm loops around her waist, pulling her close against his side, his hand splaying possessively across her hipbone. the move is effortless, smooth, like it was always meant to happen, but it’s intentional as hell.

she tenses slightly, finally catching on, and oh, she loves this. she doesn’t get to see jealous, possessive joe be so bold like this, but when she does?

it’s hot.

the actor’s smirk doesn’t falter, so either he was oblivious as hell or he had a death wish. "i was just telling her she looked stunning tonight,".

joe lifts a brow, expression unreadable but voice smooth. "yeah? you and half of pairs,".

the guy chuckles, clearly unbothered by the comment. "can you blame us?".

joe doesn’t answer him, because he's still seething about his smooth, buttery, alluring french accent (even though it did bother joe a teeny bit because of how he remembered her saying she thought accents were cute).

instead, he tilts her chin up and kisses her.

not just a quick kiss--a statement.

it’s sluggish, deep, possessive. a conscious show of who she belongs to. his hands slid up and down her sides, his lips mashed closer to hers, the soft sighs started coming from her mouth. damn.

when he pulls away, the actor is just...gone.

and she? she’s breathless.

joe smirks, brushing his thumb over her lips before murmuring, "you’re mine, baby. and i don’t share,".

she hums, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. "mmm. you like when they want me, don’t you?".

he exhales sharply, because she’s not wrong. "i like reminding them they can’t have you,".

[menagerofmischief]

sweet as sin -> cl16

main masterlist / navigation

porn star!charles chronicles

tags: everyone's got normal lives (no F1), mentions of porn/OF, very very suggestive (or very light smut idk?), mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex toys

a/n: this is just an introduction to the au. if you have any ideas or things you think would go well with the au, send an ask and lmk <3

“Oh, I don’t know, Gwen!” You said, swirling your straw around in your drink as you eyed the friend. “Other than the fact I’m moving soon, my life is a bit too boring lately. I’m done with dating apps after the last big failure and I just need something interesting to happen!”

“You mean you need to get laid!” She accused, mischief sparkling in her eyes as she giddily sipped her mimosa, already a bit tipsy from all the previously consumed ones. “When was the last time you had a good orgasm?”

You coughed, nearly choking on your drink as you stared at her with wide eyes. “We’re so not talking about this!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘very long ago’,” Gwen said, eyeing you over the rim of her glass. “Just because you’re not dating doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun.”

“Didn’t you hear the part when I said how all the guys are sleazy and disgusting?”

She chuckled, flashing you a smile. “You can have fun on your own. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it’s my favourite.”

“God,” you laughed, swatting her arm. “You’re definitely too drunk for 12 pm, Gwen.”

However much you tried to push it from your mind and deny, Gwen’s words stuck with you through the rest of the day. A constant echo in the back of your mind that played like a mocking tune whenever you found even a second free.

With a groan you pushed yourself up from your couch, the TV show playing on the screen already long abandoned. In the silence of your apartment you could hear every step you made, every thud of your feet against the ground seemed to echo like a thump of your heart within your chest.

You reached your bedside, eyes narrowed in a glare as you rummaged through the drawer in search of your old vibrator, an unfamiliar sensation stirring in your chest once you finally pulled it out, the thing still fully charged and ready to be used. 

You settled on the bed, head nestled on the pillow as you closed your eyes and tried to tease yourself but it was so damn hard when nothing came to mind. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you reached for your phone, holding it up in a slightly shaky hand you unlocked it and made your way onto the good old trusted … twitter porn.

Your fingers hesitated over a video of a guy. His face was half visible, but his body was in the full picture and he looked sweeter than sin. Hard abs, perfectly toned, arms worth salivating over. Yeah, the guy was made to be pornographic, that you were sure of.

You clicked play, watching as he teasingly ran his hands down his body, wrapping one big hand around his equally as big dick, the sound of his low groaning coming through the speaker.

A sigh slipped past your lips as you mimicked his movement, running your hands down your body, teasingly scraping your nails along your skin before slowly reaching your fingers under the waistband of your shorts.

The video ended just as your fingers reached your clit and a low spark of annoyance ran through you. “Fuck …” you muttured, staring at the replay button. Then the words under the video caught your attention.

Want more? Check out my OF ;)

Next to them was a link. Without thinking twice, or much, you pressed the link, watching as his OnlyFans page loaded up.

You glanced at the vibrator next to you on the bed, Gwen’s words, or more so the “You can have fun on your own,” echoing inside of your head once more.

“Fuck it!” You whispered into the darkness of your room, and then pressed the subscribe button.

taglist: @alenix @briefkittenearthquake @gamesetcheckeredflag @yara011

[sunsburns]

wait no because trying to compete w joaquin to look the best in sams eyes? that 100% would happen.

always showing up to work early if sam needed you there, always doing things "better" than the other to be picked to go out on missions, but in reality both of you were always gonna go, sam just likes to rile you both up!!!

you and joaquin arguing is sams entertainment, but he would always call you out on how y'all should just kiss or smthn, just so you would both get out of his hair, y'all are kiss asses 🙂‍↕️

THE biggest ass kissers the world has ever fucking seen!!!

it starts with small things.

beating joaquín torres to the debriefing room first, standing at attention just a little straighter when sam walks in. being the first to volunteer for a recon mission, making sure your reports are turned in before joaquín’s—little victories, small triumphs that keep the score tilting just slightly in your favour.

and joaquín? oh, he knows what you’re doing. he feels the competition just as strongly, meeting you beat for beat, smirk for smirk. if you show up early, he shows up earlier. if you get in a well-placed quip that makes sam chuckle, joaquín makes sure to drop a comment that gets him a full laugh, a shoulder clap.

sam catches on quickly, because of course he does. he thrives off of it, if anything, watching you and joaquín try to one-up each other over the most mundane things with the kind of patience only an older brother figure can have. half the time, he doesn’t even need to pit you against each other; you do that all on your own.

but here’s the thing—you and joaquín don’t actually hate each other. if anything, there’s an underlying respect, an unspoken acknowledgment of how damn good the other is at what they do. on the field, you’re an unstoppable duo, reading each other without a word, moving in sync in a way that only comes from deep familiarity. you know each other’s strengths, weaknesses, the little things that make the other tick—and you know exactly how to push each other’s buttons, whether it’s to provoke or distract.

and sam? oh, he knows it too.

it was why he has the two of you as his second hand. he sees how well you work together, how efficient things become when you’re not locked in some petty competition. hell, sometimes he even thinks you two are kinda cute together—just too damn stubborn to admit it.

but sometimes, sam stirs the pot just for fun. like when he lets it slip that he needs a file retrieved from the archives, and suddenly, you and joaquín are racing through the hallways, elbowing each other out of the way, nearly colliding into bucky in the process. or when he casually mentions needing someone to drive him to a meeting, and next thing he knows, both of you are already in the car, fighting over who gets to drive.

“y’all are exhausting,” sam sighs one day, watching as you and joaquín argue over who got the better shot during training with isaiah. he leans back in his chair, eyes flicking between you. “why don’t you just kiss already and get out of my face?”

that shuts both of you up real quick. joaquín’s face flushes, his lips parting like he wants to argue but can’t quite find the words. you, on the other hand, scoff, rolling your eyes before looking anywhere but at him.

sam just grins, kicking his feet up onto the table. “uh-huh. that’s what i thought.”

bucky, passing by with his coffee, gives sam a long look. “aren’t you being too hard on those kids?”

“nah,” sam replies easily, smirking. “they love it.”

[fadedtoneverland]

[12:18:am] softer, honey | k.hj

cw: fluff, gn!reader, reader being smitten for mullet!joong, lowk tooth rotting fluff

made this for my bestie @dead-end-fanfiction

imagine being in a relationship with hongjoong when he still had his mullet…

he joked about it looking silly at first, not used to having hair grow over the nape of his neck. but oh, you were in love. the soft brown color almost gave him an innocent, fawn like charm… and yet he still retained that eccentric sharpness that was uniquely hongjoong.

before he chopped it off, joong kept it a little longer he intended to, all because of you. the way you’d just smother him with compliments, saying how handsome he looked with this style… ugh, that did something to him.

hongjoong remembered one time, he was just in the studio, mindlessly conjuring up some new beats and rhythms. you were behind him, hands idly playing with his fluffy brown hair while he worked meticulously on the desktop. the way your fingers scratched just right on his scalp… it was like a soothing balm to the pounding headache he was having.

hongjoong didn’t even realize he was making soft humming noises, ‘till he hears your little giggle.

“it really feels that good?” you teased.

he huffed in response, unable to hide the smile tugging at his lip. “perhaps.”

“good,” you said, continuing to caress those perfectly wavy strands of hair. “because i could do this forever.”

hongjoong sighed, almost dreamily. he was relaxed. he hasn’t felt that in a while with how busy he’s been.

“you really like the hair, huh?” hongjoong stated while turning his head slightly to look at you.

“duh. it’s gorgeous.” you chuckled.

“please never cut it. it’s too precious.”

“what? you want me to look like rapunzel then?”

you both laughed. just soft, genuine giggles.

hongjoong eventually resumed his work, while you went off to the arm chair in the corner to take a small nap. damn, you would even sleep in the studio if it meant being near the damn hair. but hongjoong can’t lie, he was enjoying the attention his hair was getting him.

he was thinking just maybe, he’ll keep long for a bit more. for you, and for his precious compliments.

-

fadedtoneverland © 2025 | do not steal, modify or repost ANY of my work.

[frostedfragments]

calling dr zayne! ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 2.2k words ✧.* only fans au summary: dr zayne stumbles across his favourite patient's onlyfans account warnings!: zayne breaks some rules!!!, masturbation, use of a sex toy, voyeurism note: couldn't help but imagine an au where zayne doesn't know you and you wind up as his patient...and breaks a couple of dr oaths lol note2: ive' never seen the of website so if the mechanics of it are innacurate pls ignore and lets stay playful together

divider cred. @enchanthings-a

There’s only so many online medical articles one can read before they need some mindless doom scrolling. It’s not often Zayne logs into his social media accounts, he much prefers to spend his small amount of free time reading or hiking, but he can’t resist catching up on what his friends and family are posting on Instagram. He doesn’t see them nearly as often as he should, and it’s the small trickle of guilt down his throat that has him scrolling on his computer, smiling when he sees a couple photos of his parents on their holiday, his co-workers on a night out he declined to join them on, and the occasional cat video.

He’s not sure how he finds it, but the explore page is such an overstimulating mess of faces and bodies that he usually avoids it completely. It’s only because his hand twitches that he even sees the post in the first place, but he looks. And continues to look.

The woman in the photo doesn’t show her face, just the long line of her neck and the soft, plumpness of her cleavage in a bra that leaves little to the imagination. He briefly wonders how a picture like this is allowed on the app, but he’s soon clicking on the profile before he can stop himself, intrigued by smooth skin and little else. He is still a man after all, and once he is exposed to the abundance of tantalising images on the woman’s profile, he is reminded how long it has been since he had his hands on a woman.

His favourite patient doesn’t count, he thinks reflexively, frowning that the thought even crept into his mind at all. You’ve been his patient for roughly six months now; you’ve had a heart condition all your life, one that is well-managed and non-life threatening, but still needs regular monitoring. Your previous heart doctor passed away, and so your case was given to Zayne.

He tries to shake the memory of your face out of his mind as he glances through the pictures, having every intention of clicking out of the woman’s profile and logging off for the evening. Maybe even taking a shower to rid his body from this sudden thrum of energy that radiates low in his stomach, but a link in the bio of the profile catches his eye. Snags his attention like a siren, luring him in with the promise of more, and he almost feels as if he’s doing something illegal when he clicks on it.

OnlyFans isn’t completely new to Zayne - there are a few colleagues he knows who watch adult content on the site, though he mistakenly always thought it was a place where fetish content lived. Feet videos, women humiliating men on camera, food play - not really his taste. But when the link has loaded, and racier images of the woman appear, Zayne feels his cock twitch, feels it begin to fill out as his eyes graze the image of the woman laying on a bed, back arched, breasts displayed beautifully in a black lace bra which leaves her pert, pink nipples completely uncovered.

God, he needs to get laid or something. He hasn’t had the time to date, or even the energy to masturbate, always exhausted from multiple surgeries in one day or typing up notes from said surgeries. His body reminds him now of the necessity to release all the pent up tension that collects in his spine, and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over the bulge in his slacks, sighing softly at the instant swell of pleasure.

His eyes dart back up to the screen, a flush warming his cheeks and the tips of his ears, but he makes an account anyway before he can stop himself, typing in his credit card information and subscribing to the woman who seems to have come out of nowhere and locked in his attention with just a few pictures of her body.

Once he has full access to the page, he scrolls through picture after picture, some more explicit than others. When he reaches the video section, he notices one posted just a few hours ago titled watch me cum while i think about him. The thumbnail shows the woman in a pale pink lingerie set, plush thighs wrapped in white, lace stockings as she sits demurely on white bed sheets. Her neck, chin and full mouth are all that is visible of her face, and Zayne’s gut tenses as he moves the mouse over, clicking play on the video.

His speakers hum with the sound of the video as the woman walks towards the bed, sitting down and smiling softly. Her lips are glossy with a balm or something, and Zayne resigns himself to his base need, slowly unbuckling his belt as the girl shuffles back on the bed slightly.

“Hi guys,” Her voice filters through the speakers, and Zayne frowns, though he can’t think what it is about the voice that makes him pause, “I just got home, and I saw my favourite doctor today. Obviously, though you’ve all been asking, I can’t say his name, but just trust me when I say he’s…so fine,”

Zayne’s hand pulls down the zipper of his slacks, licking his lips, watching closely as she trails her hands over her skin that already looks flushed with arousal. The bra barely contains her full breasts, nipples already straining against the thin fabric. He needs to see them, his hands feel empty with the need to fill his palms with their softness, and he dips into his briefs to pull out his cock, already hard and red at the tip.

The woman has barely touched herself yet, and he feels so pent up he might come before she even gets started.

Reaching over, the woman grabs what looks to be a pink sleep mask, hands disappearing out of frame before she sits back on her elbows, her full face in frame, half covered by the mask. She rolls onto her tummy as she stretches across the mattress again, the sounds of a drawer opening and closing. Her ass is almost bare, round and soft in a matching pink thong. Zayne let’s his hand stroke experimentally over his dick, exhaling shakily.

The girl is back facing the camera now, long hair fanning out over the sheets. It has Zayne pausing again, the first shiver of alarm running through his spine as he spots something on her hip. A tattoo.

The same tattoo his new patient has. But surely, it’s just a coincidence. Maybe you and this girl just have similar taste. He pauses his movements, still as stone while his brain works overtime to avoid the truth of the situation.

By now the girl, or as Zayne realises with a start, you are fully spread out on the mattress. Your legs move restlessly, like you’re so turned on you can’t stay still, and Zayne’s eyes close at the way the thought sits heavy in his groin, balls tightening as his hand squeezes the base of his dick.

He absolutely cannot do this, he cannot watch a video of a patient writhing around on their bed in nothing but their lingerie. The item you had pulled out, a sizable pink dildo, is laying by your thigh, and there is no question between that and the title about what is about to happen. But then you start speaking again, and Zayne is forced to open his eyes at the sound of your voice.

“Will you guys stay with me?” Your voice is breathier now, and you lick your lips when your hand palms a breast. Zayne’s jaw clenches, “I’ve needed to come all day since my appointment. My doctor has such big hands, it’s so fucking hot -” You gasp, fingers twisting a nipple through your bra, and Zayne’s thighs tense, a thick bead of precum dribbling down his cock at the idea that you’re about to think of him while you fuck yourself.

He must be fucking dreaming. Or maybe it’s a nightmare, given that he’s breaking every single possible rule right now by not clicking out of this video. But his dick is almost throbbing in his hand now, and he can’t rip his eyes away from the screen when your hand trails over your stomach, fingers slipping under the elastic of your thong. Your hand presses back against the mattress as you moan softly.

“I’ve been wet the whole way home,” You whine, “His voice, it’s so deep and soft. And his eyes; he watches me like he could ruin me if he wanted to. I can’t stop thinking about him,”

Zayne loses the battle against his entire brain screaming at him that this is wrong, this is a terrible idea. That he needs to stop. But he can’t, how is he supposed to stop when you’re rocking against your hand, lips parted to accommodate the ragged breaths and throaty sounds you make. He strokes himself, all the air leaving his lungs.

Your other hand reaches down to your thigh where the dildo sits, forgotten, and you smile as you hold it up to the camera, “I chose my biggest one for tonight. I want to imagine him fucking - ah - fucking me,”

“Oh, fuck,” He grits, other hand gripping the arm of his desk chair. His balls ache, and he runs his thumb over the head of his cock, watching you with half-open eyes as you shimmy out of the thong.

“How much do you want to see?” Zayne almost thinks you’re speaking directly to him, and it feels that way with the intimate hum of your voice. Maybe you are, maybe you’re imagining him doing this right now. Breaking every rule and fucking his hand while you shift on the bed, facing away from the camera and falling forward to reveal your soaked, pink pussy and the tight hole above. Zayne’s teeth nearly bite right through his lower lip when your hand reaches back, small fingers pushing right inside.

His hand speeds up, the slick sounds filling the room alongside your moans, and he wishes you were right here with him. He wishes that instead of removing your fingers and sliding the dildo through your folds, that you were here, bouncing on his cock.

You sit up slightly, looking over your shoulder as you place the dildo at your entrance. Your lips curl into a smile, “I don’t even need any lube tonight. I’m so fucking wet,”

“Yeah, you are,” Zayne murmurs to himself, half-mad with desire to see you be filled up. Even if he can’t be the one to do it, his teeth ache as he clenches his jaw, waiting for you to sink down onto that silicone, imagining it's him.

Teeth pressed into your soft lower lip, you slowly take every inch of the dildo, thighs trembling slightly, enough to make the skin of your ass ripple a bit. When you raise your hips up again, the silicone is shiny with your need, and Zayne’s mouth is watering, his fist jerking almost too fast. He doesn’t want this to be over yet, but when you start to bounce it’s too late to slow down. You’re almost moving at the same pace as his hand, and he groans, falling back into the seat so he can jerk his hips up a little, fantasising that he’s under you, that you’re taking him like a good girl would.

“Oh, god,” You whimper, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself like a melody through Zayne’s speakers, “s-so big, oh he’s so big, I know it -,”

“Shit,” Zayne digs his nails into his thigh to stop himself from coming. There’s sweat running down his chest now, and he reaches up to undo his tie, tossing it to the ground. He can barley breathe, his cock so wet it’s almost like he’s actually fucking you.

“F-fuck- I waited all day for this. Since I left his - hng - office. God, I want him to fuck me on the desk. I bet he would be so good, so rough. Oh god, please,” You’re no longer bouncing on the dildo, instead grinding your hips on it, skin dewy and flushed red, “God, I’m gonna come, oh - oh, fuck -”

Zayne is shaking, his hand almost cramping from how fast he’s dragging it along his cock. His balls give a warning throb before he flicks his eyes up to see you coming with him, your thighs twitching, hips moving jaggedly as you continue to grind down on the fake cock. He twists his wrist at the head of his length and groans loudly, closing his eyes, imagining you’re coating his dick, coming all over it. His cum stains his fingers and his white shirt, chest dropping harshly with every breath he drags in. His body feels weightless, eyes heavy, and he opens them to watch as you roll over on the bed, on your back with your legs parted, showing him and the camera the mess you’ve made.

Zayne’s cock twitches back to life at the thought of cleaning you up with his tongue.

Before he closes the video, he watches till the end. Stares at the way you slowly come back down to earth, sleepily stretching and grinning at the camera, voice hoarse, “Thank you, doctor,” you giggle, before the screen goes black, and Zayne is left to stare at his sweaty, fucked out expression in the reflection.

“Fuck,” He says.