#he wanted her attention in any way he could

[heavyhitterheaux]

Black, Purple, and Blue

AN: fluffy goodness 😘💕

Synopsis: The amount of times your husband gets hit during the Ravens game quickly has you concerned, but he tries to reassure you that there is nothing to worry about

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a beautiful anon 😍

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Hit after hit after hit

You watched your husband get pummeled to the ground multiple times against the Ravens from the comfort of your bed at your home in Cincinnati and it seemed as if there was no end in sight. Multiple people had asked if you wanted to watch the game with them, but you quickly decided against it. You would rather be at home by yourself and not be at some random bar hearing people drunk off their asses talking about your husband if he were to lose.

A fight almost ensued between you and another fan during Joe’s second season with the Bengals and from that point on, you knew it wasn’t even worth your time. You knew Joe was an amazing quarterback and his stats proved it despite what people may say about him.

The game was not moving in the direction that you originally thought, but despite this you still held onto hope since the score was so close.

Joe had confessed to you earlier in the week how anxious and nervous he was for this game and it was to be expected. They were playing in Baltimore on their turf, but seeing how the Ravens caused them an upset at home, it would only be right if the Bengals did the same thing.

Joe was always focused during the season, but it went to a different level when he was playing any team within the same division as the Bengals were.

When the Ravens had gotten the ball back, the camera suddenly cut to the Bengals sideline and you could see Joe wincing in pain as he was holding the left side of his body, Silently cursing to yourself before letting out a sigh, the wheels in your head began to turn and immediately thought the worst.

This time last year as he was playing the Ravens, he sustained his wrist injury that put him out for the rest of the season and the last thing you wanted was for him to go through that all over again. You saw the way it bothered him deep down, even though he thought he was being good at putting up a front for you.

Being married for a total of four years, you could see right through his bullshit and could immediately tell when something was off with him.

You took a sip of your strawberry flavored Truly as you saw Joe throw to Ja’Marr and end up with a touchdown and quickly placed it back down on the table in order to celebrate.

But now, it was time for your nerves to be turned up to another level because you saw them wanting to go for a two point conversion.

“You cannot be fucking serious right now.” You quietly said out loud, even though there was no one in the room but you.

During the play, someone on the Ravens defense had pulled Joe’s face mask and you were yelling at the television seeing as how they never even called it.

Suddenly, your phone rang next to you and you debated on whether you should answer it until you saw that it was your cousin Yalisa. Clicking accept, the first thing you heard was her yelling.

“Y/N! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON IN THIS GAME?! DO YOU SEE HOW MANY CALLS THEY MISSED?! And not them beating your husband like he stole something.”

“I’m so over this, I don’t even know anymore. It seems like they are personally working against them. Did you see him grab Joe’s face mask?”

“Yes! And that’s why I called you! Are the refs blind?!”

“Um, the only names I’ve heard all night are Joe and Ja’marr. It doesn’t seem like anyone else showed up to play today.”

“See? That’s why Joe is as ripped as he is now because he’s carrying this team on his fucking back!”

“And he keeps wincing, so I’m concerned because he has yet to seek medical attention. He just keeps going back in and I can tell that something is wrong with him.” You quietly said and tried to take a deep breath to help ground you from the uneasy feeling that was creeping in.

“I guess he sees it as he has to go back in because who the fuck else is going to? They are seriously pissing me off. Is this the week that Zac gets fired?” She asked and you immediately stifled a laugh.

“As much as I would like that to become a reality, a lot more things need to change beside that one.”

It was one in the morning when your phone rang alerting you that you had a facetime call from your husband and you immediately answered.

The two of you stared at each other as you noticed Joe was laying down. In order to get more comfortable, he adjusted himself and you once again saw him wince. But before you could say anything about it, you heard his voice.

“I didn’t wake you up did I?” He asked and you simply shook your head no.

“No, and you know I always wait for you to call me before I go to sleep. I have to hear your voice one way or another.”

“And hearing your voice has to be my favorite thing in the world. I just can’t wait until tomorrow when I actually get to hold you.”

“I can’t wait for that either and I am going to fix all your favorite comfort foods and we’ll eat ourselves into a food coma to get through this.” You replied as you brought the comforter higher up your body since you were getting cold.

“While watching rom coms of course.”

“A man that knows a way to my heart.” You told him and he gave you a small smile.

It was quiet for a few seconds and then you spoke up again.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“I saw you wincing during the game. I don’t like when you wince.”

“I’m okay, really. It’s not a big deal.”

“Joey, don’t give me that. You got hit multiple times. If something happened then…”

“I promise that I’m okay, just a little sore. I already took the motrin that you slipped in my bag for me earlier.”

“Well someone has to do it seeing as you always forget.”

“True, and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Stop! Stop being so cute when you’re so far away and I can’t kiss you until you get back, it’s not fair.” You whined and Joe let out a small laugh.

“You can have all the kisses you want once you see me. Promise.”

“Joey? How are you and do not under any circumstances bullshit me right now because I will be on the first flight to Baltimore if you do.”

The deep sigh he let out before giving you a verbal answer was telling.

“Frustrated.”

“Go on.”

“It seems like there is a disconnect somewhere and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Cough your coach Zac Taylor cough.”

“Well, that and there is something else. Just haven’t quite figured it out yet.”

“Can I be honest? You are amazing in your own right and even though I know that you already know this, Joey the last thing I ever want to happen is for you to in lack of better words waste your career for an organization that doesn’t quite seem like they value or care about you. Like, my husband is the shit and I’m not being biased. You are one of the best, if not the best, okay now I’m being biased. But, you’re amazing and I just want so much better for you. Do you know how much it hurts to see you so upset every week that you lose knowing that you show up every time for your team and give 100% while others don’t?”

—

Hearing the front door open from you and Joe’s shared office as you were working on your laptop, you immediately hopped up and ran to the foyer to greet him.

As soon as he spotted you, his bag was thrown to the side as he opened up his arms to embrace you as he placed several kisses on your lips.

When you did bring him in for a hug, once again you saw him wince.

“Joseph….”

“No, stop. I’m fine.”

“Hmm, pull up your shirt.”

“Damn, you want me to fuck you already? I was thinking…” Joe started to say, but you cut him off.

“No! Well yes, but not yet! Lift it.”

“But…”

“NOW.”

Once he did, you saw a black, purple, and blue bruise in the area where his ribs were on the left side and immediately gasped.

“BABY!”

“I’m fine, just a little bruised. I don’t want you to worry yourself.” He told you as he put his shirt back down and grabbed your hand as he kissed the back of it.

“A LITTLE bruise? It literally takes up a very good portion of your torso. And how can I not worry? My husband is a professional football player. Worrying is ingrained in my brain now. It got ingrained when I met you at LSU so stop.”

“Would it make you feel better that I got checked out before we got on our flight to come back home because it was bothering me when I woke up?”

“Yes. Kind of. But still!"

“And I’m fine. I promise like I said, and you're so cute when you worry about me."

"Not cute, I get flustered and pray nothing bad happens to you."

Crossing your arms, you nodded your head as Joe uncrossed them and leaned down to kiss you.

"Nothing is going to happen, and I'm going to need you to relax for me. Now that we got that out of the way, I’m also going to need my wife to lose her clothes.”

[genstyle]

I'm scared of people. Just in general. A soft memory, huh? It was pretty recent but I wanna write it out! I had to leave my house multiple times this month because of pest control issues. I had to do a lot of laundry at a public laundromat. I've done it before and I'll do it again. I'm not comfortable out in public, still. But it was nice. I met a couple of old folks. I did my laundry among other people just trying to pay attention to their own responsibilities. Someone tried to steal my phone when my ADHD got the better of me and I accidentally left it unattended for a couple of minutes. I did get it back thanks to my Dad being there to phone it. I met a mother who seemed more scared of me than any one else in the laundromat. I'm used to it. I'm a tall, masculine looking, creepily quiet, dark skinned indigenous person, after all. She relaxed once I finished using the big washing machine and offered it to her. We joked about the frilly pink sock someone left behind underneath one of the tables. I met another lady who complained about how long the dryers took to get her towels properly dried. She taught me how the extension features of the dryers work! If you put in a couple of quarters before opening the door, then it's cheaper to add a few more minutes that way than starting the cycle again. I complimented the cashier about how fast she's learned to count change. She smiled and laughed at "the useless skill". An asian man came back to the laundromat two hours after leaving because he realized he took the wrong charger after he was done with his laundry. The lady who's charger he took was still there and they exchanged wires and had a good laugh. A taxi driver who was using the car wash next door wandered in at one point and gave every customer there his business card. He bragged about how familiar he was with the local native american community. I didn't want to believe it until I noticed that his business card listed a commonly used airline that I know the Northern Reserves tend to use. If he was confident enough about servicing that place then he wasn't kidding about being familiar with natives. My dad really tried to hold a conversation with that guy. He was interested in the little vocal ticks the man picked up. My dad knows a lot of Native languages and wanted to bother him about dialect. Luckily the man got out of the conversation by needing to go back to his car. A strange old lady tried to ask for my phone number. I spoke with her casually while she was waiting for a ride to pick her up. She kissed my neck when we said farewell. I don't know her name or anything. I overheard a bunch of middle school students who wandered in to buy snacks during their lunch hour talk about what the results of the elections could mean for them going forward. We're in the middle of Canada and even they know the future is concerning. I don't look forward to doing my laundry in public again. We have another pest control appointment in 4 weeks. It's not as scary. It's a weirdly human experience. Just doing laundry. Reminds me a lot of the movie Everything Everywhere All at Once. Next time it's just the physical aspect of dragging tons of clothing around that I'll dislike. The people make it not as scary.

Tell me a soft memory

[1-800-ur-cyber-slxtt]

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃; 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘

summary: your uniform gets shrunken in the wash and shrinks a decent size smaller. Buck who already has feelings for you is more than flustered at the sight of your shirt hugging your plump tits.

word count: 1k

warnings: brief smut (nothing major), plus size!reader, fem!reader, no use of y/n, mentions of tit play + fucking, p in v??

notes: part two incoming

divider credit: @v6que

Buck felt his jaw drop as soon as you walked into the firehouse. The way your fat tits pressed desperately against the navy fabric of your work uniform, the shirt visibly much tighter than usual. His cheeks were already a bright shade of red, hot and embarrassed at the tent already threatening to form in his pants. He adjusted in his seat as you made your way over. Buck tried to hide his arousal from the rest of the team, hoping his flustered state would go unnoticed. 

You let out a sigh as you reach the team, all spread out over the second floor of the station. Bobby was in the kitchen drying some dishes, Chim and Hen on the couch and Eddie with Buck at the table. Everyone’s attention is turned to you, greeting you like usual before they resume their previous activities. You turn to Buck who you’re closest to, noticing how it seems he hasn't looked away from you. You realise his gaze is glued to your chest before it quickly bounces back up to meet your eyes with a hard swallow.   

You make a defeated- almost embarrassed face as you pull out the chair next to Buck and sit down. “My shirt shrunk in the dryer! All my tops were wet and I was desperate to get at least one dry before my shift.” You pull at the fabric that if it wasn’t for your boobs would be hugging your stomach, wanting desperately for it to be looser. “Lesson learnt, I guess.”, you add with a huff.

Buck, stammering on his words, tries to comfort you, “If it helps, I think you look amazing.” It was painfully clear to Buck now that this was going to be one very hard shift to get through. The knowing chuckle that leaves Eddie’s lips at his best friend barely breaks Bucks trance but it shifts your attention away and onto the dark haired man across from you. 

“What?”, you practically whine, feeling increasingly insecure and annoyed, the shirt making you feel claustrophobic. At least eventually you’d have your gear on and there’d be no need to be insecure. In your rush this morning you hadn’t even remembered to pick up your jacket that could have been worn in the meantime. 

“Nothing.”Eddie shakes his head with a grin. Buck spares him a warning glance, battling to get himself in control. Who would have thought he’d get this worked up over a shrunken shirt. Buck already knew he was attracted to you, painfully aware in fact. Eddie was also aware that his best friend was swooning, always encouraging the blond to make a move. ‘Just ask her out for drinks!’, he’d practically plead so he would stop having to hear Buck’s incessant ranting. But despite Buck’s confident nature and the fact he could probably have any man or woman he wanted, he remained too timid to make a move. 

You roll your eyes only half heartedly, letting a small grin take over your features as you fall into natural conversation with Eddie. Buck stays quiet next to you, daydreaming. Imagining all the things he wants to do with those plump tits of yours. 

He imagines taking off that shirt you’re wearing, your boobs overflowing from the cups of your bra. Palming them with his large rough hands, rolling the hardened nipples between his fingers. His tongue swirling around the swollen buds with almost animalistic need. 

He imagines his hard cock buried between them, throbbing tip pushing out from them with every thrust, hot cum spurting across your chest and chin when he couldn’t hold it any longer. 

He thought about the way they’d bounce as he fucked into you or you rode him. How they’d jolt with every thump of your chest, heart beating fast as you try to catch your breath. Panting like you’d ran a marathon but really Buck had just been fucking you with little to no remorse. 

“Buck? Earth to Evan.” The sound of your voice calling his name snapped Buck out of his thoughts. He wondered how long both you and Eddie had been trying to regain his focus. He looked around at you both with wide confused eyes, a look on his face that could only be described as one of a guilty child, caught red handed. 

He swallows down his embarrassment, “Huh?”, is all he manages to say at first. You and Eddie stare back at him, a small idea of where his mind had run to. Taking in his dilated pupils and beetroot red cheeks, flush rising up his neck. 

“We were asking you if you’re okay. You seem spaced out.”, you say back. Buck normally wasn’t anywhere near this quiet, unless he was upset or brooding. Always actively participating in conversation, half the time you couldn’t get him to shut up. 

“Huh, yeah- uh, I’m fine.”, He stumbles on his words, hastily getting up from his seat. “I’m just- bathroom.”, he mumbles rushing off and down the stairs. Disappearing just as soon as the muddled sentence was leaving his lips. 

You turn back to Eddie making a face, “What’s up with him?”  

He shakes his head, smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “No clue.” Your eyes narrow, he definitely knew something but you decided not to push it, already have a pretty good idea yourself. Maybe you’d confront him later, especially if he kept acting strange. The thought of following after him briefly crosses your mind but the bell going off shuts that down. 

If Buck had gone down to do what you’d thought then you already knew he wasn’t going to be happy. Going down the stairs with the rest of the team following suit you can tell you’re right. Buck’s coming out of the locker room looking frustrated. He runs a hand through his short curls, irritation exuding from him. The light illuminates small droplets of sweat across his forehead, uniform only slightly messed up. 

You can’t help the smirk that forms on your face. You’d definitely be catching up with him lately, at the very least to tease him.

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

part two

masterlist | taglist: pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. daddy kink. MDNI

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Chapter two

Three weeks later and you don't quite know what's happened, or who you even are anymore. You're waspish and short, run ragged between classes and the two families you've somehow managed to become employed for. They're nice enough to coordinate between themselves, most nights - Kate reaching out with a schedule the two of them have agreed on that lets you manage both kids at once. That doesn't mean they can always get their kids under the same roof for you, their schedules always too full to manage the drive across town. As if yours is any better.

The tentative routine you've fallen into is easy enough on paper, attending morning class before heading over to the Laswell's and doing most of your classwork there, even attending an online lesson once a week because Colin is a little angel who can remain calm as long as you are, but it all goes pretty much to shit the second you embark to pick up Emily from preschool around midafternoon, loading Colin into the carseat the Laswells very generously bought for you. 

(Between the fact that it stays belted into your car twentyfour seven now because you don't trust yourself to reinstall it properly without the weirdly mechanical tests John used to ensure its safety when he set it up the first time and the fact that Colin can occasionally be heard cooing in the background of your more interactive lessons, there's definitely a rumor going around campus that you have a baby. You're not sure how you feel about it, but it does tend to keep the more annoying boys at arm's length so you haven't really gone out of your way to correct it quite yet. Emily's booster gets stored in your trunk, though. You don't quite want to know what kind of leper you'd become if your classmates thought you'd been on Sixteen and Pregnant.) 

The girl is… tougher. Well behaved but boisterous, moody at times. Her rambunctiousness is infectious, gets Colin worked up from the confines of his seat in a way he doesn't usually wind down from for hours while Emily prattles on about her day and waves glittery crafts at you, leaving your car looking like a bad drag hangover, still-tacky finger paints smearing like lipstick stains on your upholstery. 

(This is why Emily's booster stays in the trunk, there's already enough misleading evidence all over your car.)

(This is why John doesn't pick up his own daughter, you're fairly sure, and you've half a mind to install a glitter bomb in his glove box as revenge.)

You don't always have to watch the girl, John's evening schedule an unfixed thing, but Emily always seems excited to see you pulling up, as if she knows that her father works even when he's home. It's why you try to stay patient with her when her boundless energy riles the baby up, or when her incessant need for attention prevents you from finishing papers on time. It's not her fault, but it is slowly driving you insane.

Gina helps out when she can, usually bringing dinner for everyone when she stops by the Price's to pick up her kid in the early evening. Sometimes she even stays for a bit, helps keep Emily entertained while you streamline the bedtime routine with hopes of finishing up homework after she tucks in for the night. It's a valiant effort made by all, but the girl doesn't often play along, much too busy antagonizing you to bother showering in a timely manner. There are nights you think of her more like a little sister than a client, the way she picks on you. You feed it right back in your darker hours, when having every minute of your day planned out and consumed weighs on you, giving you teeth. You'd made her cry once by mistake, your tone more than your words themselves needling under her skin until she burst into tears, hid in her room until her father came home. There'd been an odd sense of relief to it, balancing out the panic of a bad review. Sure, you'd be fired and no one would want to hire you ever again if John used that one app where you got most of your odd jobs, but at least the Laswells wouldn't give you up and you could return to your regular schedule. But when Mr. Price got home that evening, he'd only listened to his whiny daughter with a soft smile, kissing her on the forehead before telling you both that he 'Wished his girls would get along.'

You can see where Emily gets it from, her ability to drive you insane, but where the girl is loud and prickly or candy-sweet by turns, a constant one man crew of Guess Who, her father is a steady, low stream abrading you, the funnel where he slips through your cells eroding until he's a constant bubbling under your skin. He's incorrigible, insidious, shameless. 

Escalating, lock step with you.

You still haven't returned his shirt. Well, technically you had - once. Worn it that Wednesday, the first time he'd asked you back. You'd done it with every intention of teasing him a little, noting you'd need a replacement if he wanted it back now, and changing out of it before leaving for the night. He'd turned it on your head with a simple 'You could always just take it off,' before you'd even been able to reveal your plan to give it back to him. 

He should have expected you to retaliate after that, returning home with it once more. It's remained safe in your dresser ever since, one less avenue for him to come barrelling down the center of, catching you in his headlights like a deer too scared to run. And if keeping it means you get to wear it to bed sometimes, so be it. That's his fault, too, always texting you so late to 'make sure you got back okay.' It's possible he's being gentlemanly, but that would be a first so you refuse to believe it, assume instead that he wants to make you think of him when you're climbing into bed each night. Like you need the help, like you haven't already worn the scent off his shirt. Sometimes you think about weaseling another one from him, or wonder how long it would take him to notice if you outright stole one. You know which room is his, have caught glimpses through the cracked door sometimes when following Emily up to her room. He never shuts it, too trusting. You probably would've already gotten yourself off on his pillow like a bitch in heat if he hadn't let slip early on that Emily sometimes likes to sleep in his bed when he's away. 'Think she misses me sometimes,' his voice was sad but the leer he gave you as he continued was anything but. 'She's allowed, if she wants.'

The next day he mentioned Emily falls asleep quickest when someone lies down with her to read her story. Your papers continue going unwritten, the girl wandering out of her bedroom late into the night because you refuse to start the habit when you know how it will end.

It's unsustainable, feels like you're circling the drain. But the money is great. 

While the Laswells had never been stingy, John pays you like a dental surgeon each time he needs you. That same exorbitant rate from the first night, now with a prepaid gas card he seems very uninterested in monitoring the spending of. You'd be tempted to test your theory if you had time, take a road trip out to your parents or something just to see if it ever got declined. Sometimes you fantasize about it at night, texting him an SOS and a picture of your gas gauge on E. It's embarrassing how often he shows up to save the day in your daydreams now, racing to your side in his gleaming Lexus to refuel your car with a suggestive smile, working the nozzle past your intake valve like he's slipping into a wet cunt. 

You should probably get laid, but who has the time? Especially given your… situation. 

(Your situation being there is no situation. Never has been one. Virginal as the day you were born save for some over-the-pants heavy petting in high school and a rotation of cheap drug store vibes you usually end up abandoning for your own fingers because dear god, you'd think you'd have learned after the first wasted investment but up until now, with John's much needed help, you haven't really been in a position to just spend on sex toys all willy nilly and while yeah, sure, you are now, every time you go to spend his money on an imitation cock you can't help thinking might look like his, you suddenly remember you're only here because you can't put your big girl panties on and -.)

It takes time, is the problem. You don't need the whole blanket under the stars treatment, but you at least want some evidence that you're not going to get jackhammered into the mattress by some selfish, overeager boy who wouldn't know how to get you off if you gave him a manual. But evidence takes time to gather, takes meetups in frat parties you have no interest in attending, and makeout sessions smelly couches just to see if your partner knows how to use their tongue. And for all his provisions, John (John.) has made well and truly certain that the one thing you don't have, is in fact time.

>Need you tonight.

The vibration of your phone against the library desk is loud as a gunshot, the message itself ringing in your ears just as bad. You placed your phone back on the table and sent your deskmate, a handsome senior named Paul who'd been your unofficial Saturday morning library pal for the last two semesters, an apologetic glance.

Paul just waved his hand at you dismissively, a small smile tugging at his lips. With his head bowed into his fourth edition of a rather intimidating neuroscience textbook that gave you anxiety just looking at it, the only way you could tell he wasn't annoyed by your antics at all was the dimpling of his cheeks. It distracted you momentarily, the urge to nibble at the fat there sudden and overwhelming, then your phone vibrated again because you'd been too distracted to silence it and you snatched it back up with an annoyed huff, ready to tell your employer off about disturbing your Sacred Saturday, your one day off a week. 

(Again.)

> I know what day it is but it's an emergency.

> I'll make it up to you.

< how so?

You chew your lip waiting for a response, the bubbling typing indicator roiling like your stomach. It's always like this, texting with John - every response teetering on too much. It's why you usually prefer to coordinate with the Laswells as much as possible, minimizing your discussions with Mr. Price to those late night 'Did you make it home okay?' messages. 

(And sending him a photo evidence that his shirt was still safe and in your care once.

If you'd been wearing it at the time, snuggled up in bed and haloed in warm fairy lights with the hem riding a little high, that was his fault for asking after it so late.)

Tap, tap, tap.

Across from you, Paul drums his pen off the spiral notebook that sits between you, a custom since your third week sitting together. It's blank aside from your brief, handwritten conversations as far as you can tell, an accessory Paul seems to carry around for this express purpose, evidently preferable to just asking for your number so you can text each other to get around the strict no talking policy in the quietest lounge of the library. In the year or so since you've met him, you've never heard Paul talk, all of your correspondences reduced to the notebook which he draws your attention to now, his tidy scrawl asking a simple but damning question: 'Who's the guy?'

You shake your head, instinctual - automatic. Paul crooks an unimpressed brow at you and underlines his original question. 

'Just some guy I work for, why?'

Paul smirks when he reads it but turns serious in response, waving at your overall demeanor as if that answers everything.

In your palm, your phone gives a muted buzz and you have to physically swallow back the urge to check it immediately. You roll your eyes at Paul instead. A poor excuse for the frustration you want to unleash, but opening the valve even a hair was better than just letting it build.

His scrawl is neat when Paul responds. Unaffected, calm. 'You've got a crush.' And then below that, its own paragraph: 'Should I be worried?'

It takes a moment for the words to register, the moment dragging out too long before your eyes dart up to your deskmate. Paul winks, scheming and sly, and your jaw hinges open in shock.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

"Shit," you hiss, scrambling out of your seat as your phone continues to vibrate with an incoming call. John's contact lights the screen, the stupid money bag emoji you'd used for him mocking you. You wait until you make it to the stairwell to answer to avoid the worst of the librarian's wrath, though she still shoots you a disapproving glare as you stalk past her post. You've half a mind to let the stairwell door slam behind you, but it would echo louder than your anger and you want John to hear every word when you accept the call.

"I am at the library," you hiss by way of greeting, as if that perfectly illustrates why you're so annoyed with him.

John just grunts, uninterested. "Are you available or not tonight? I need an answer ASAP so I can make plans if you're -."

"I'm off on Saturdays."

A beat passes as John recollects, evidently unused to being interrupted. "Right. Which is why I offered to pay you double your regular rate."

Confused, you check your texts to read the one you'd missed, too busy being chatted up by a cute boy much more appropriately aged. In it, John pleads desperately with you: offers twice your pay, dinner, anything you want.

You think of Paul's cute dimples, the way he's known you for a year without asking for your number. You think of John covered in shaving cream, his first words to you a joke about how desperate you looked - how desperate you both looked.

Hand pressed to your forehead, you shut your eyes and ask what time John needs you.

"Oh, thank you so much, sweetheart. A real lifesaver. I promise I'll make it up to you, just tell me how, okay? And as for tonight, no later than seventeen hundred, please - though honestly you can come by anytime, I'm sure Emily will be happy to see you."

Emily. Right. "Well I'm at the library for a reason, so -."

"You can use my study, of course. The munchkin knows better than to bug me when I'm in there."

Unbidden, you imagine pestering John yourself when he's lounged in some fancy modern desk chair, leather and broad. You bet his study smells like tobacco, that there's a bar cart in the corner. You imagine him using your mouth like a tumbler of whiskey, punishment for running it too much. He'd drink from your lips whenever he -.

"But I suppose I don't have all those useful resources like textbooks… well, consider it a standing offer."

"S-sure, Mr. Price. Thanks."

"Of course. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes, sir."

On the other end of the line, John's breath stutters. His voice is low when he signs off, blunt and direct. Doesn't wait to hear your response. "Be good, sweetheart."

***

You're not entirely sure what being good constitutes, but you're fairly sure using John's emergency credit card Emily located for you in the freezer to Instacart approximately one day's minimum wage worth of junk food because Emily had been sad and despondent all day wasn't it. Nor was letting her dance her sugar rush off to less than appropriate music, probably, but it was worth it to see her smiling again after the fit she'd thrown when her father had left for the evening. You're both sweaty and breathless now, collapsing onto the couch between songs to shovel more M&Ms into your mouths and make fun of each other's dance moves. Emily says you use too much arm movements, but she's only four and thinks hopscotch skips are the new craze so you ask what she knows anyway and laugh at the way she rolls her eyes at you.

John's talkative too, apparently, the unexpected clients he'd been urgently called in to entertain evidently not holding his attention. He's never exactly radio silent when you've got his kid in your charge, but he usually lets you take the lead (pepper him with stupid questions you already know the answer to just to find an excuse to distract him because maybe you kinda like how short he gets) on those nights.

(Despite this standard, you don't feel the need to tell him you'd managed to read his credit card number through the brick of crystalline ice he'd cleverly hidden it in. You hope he's really short when he figures that stunt out.)

Tonight, however, it's John peppering you with questions. They start out innocent enough, asking after his daughter because he felt bad leaving her on a night that he'd promised to be home and he could see how much it upset her. Those questions peter out when you send him a picture of her all giggly and wound up, her hair freshly braided in a style she said he's too clumsy to accomplish for her. With confirmation that his daughter was feeling better, John's texts turn rapidly back to you.

> And how about you, sweetheart? Are you doing better?

< wym, better?

> What do you mean, wym?

< har har

> I mean you were rather short with me earlier. Are you still upset with me?

> I promise I also don't want to be working on a Saturday, for what it's worth.

< not mad

< just seems like you're not really needed with how much you're blowing up my phone

> Honestly, no. This is a waste of both our time.

> Have you decided how I can make it up to you, at least?

Actually, you hadn't even thought of it, figuring he was just being exaggerative - that he'd pay you your exorbitant rate and be done with it, send you on your way with your thoughts all twisted after some more growled insinuations and a pat on your ass, probably. He seemed like he was maybe two visits away from trying his luck, anyway.

Maybe you could ask for it sooner. Clear the air, finally feel his hands on you. You tell him you don't want anything, clarify nothing he can give you when he calls that out for being a lie.

> Sure about that? I can help with most things.

And the thing is, he's right. There are a lot of things you want. You want to get a better grade on your next econ assignment, you want a full night's sleep. You want to have free time, pick up a hobby. You have a growing desire to learn how to make the perfect pasta after seeing her scarf so many lackluster take out spaghetti bolognaise dishes. The solution was obvious, though one you knew he wouldn't want to hear.

< okay. i want more free time

> So quit with the Laswells.

It draws you up short, Emily bouncing around you unawares. It's one thing to suspect John's - your - end game, but another thing to see it batted around so casually. It makes you feel taken advantage of, guided in a way you don't necessarily appreciate. The Laswells were your first real, well-paying gig, your ticket to independence. You didn't relish the thought of abandoning them and you certainly didn't like to be coerced into the decision. 

But John did pay very well.

< just like that?

John's answer is far too quick, the status changing directly from read to answered with a speed that suggested he may have had a response drafted already which he simply copy/pasted. 

> It would make the most sense. I can pay well enough to make up for the lost income, plus my schedule works better with your classes. 

> Honestly, I'm surprised you even lasted as long as you did with them.

< i wouldn't want to let them down…

> Nonsense, I'm sure they'd understand. You're a busy girl with a full schedule, afterall.

So were they - the whole reason you'd been working for them so long. 

< i don't think i could quit on them. kate scares me.

> I'll take care of Kate, okay? No need to worry. I owe you one anyway, remember?

>Just let Daddy handle it.

It takes you a minute, the words somehow too natural to trip you up. Before you, Emily screeches happily about some cartoon that's maybe a touch too old for her and you think to yourself that she's going to sleep good tonight, all tuckered out as you know she's going to be and then you nearly drop your phone in your rush to chastise him, or run your mouth like you always do, or maybe double down on your request.

But the words don't come. Every time you manage to string two whole thoughts together it peters out, the textual manifestation of the gaping anime gasp he's managed to draw from you as you imagine him watching your typing bubbles appear and fizzle over and over again. If he's watching, of course, but he's a busy man so maybe -.

This time when your phone buzzes, there's no threat of a scolding librarian to keep your yelp suppressed. Just the odd look Emily shoots you before being distracted by her brightly colored show again, turning away from you disinterestedly as you excuse yourself to the kitchen.

"Mr. Price?"

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"S- sorry?"

His voice is calmer when he repeats himself, the same tone he uses on his daughter when she's too fidgety to listen. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

And that answer is easy because the flutter in your tummy you get whenever his words grow a little too overt is not discomfort, so the answer comes easily, if quietly. "No."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Through the fog of your fluster, you remember Paul and his glacial pace, the cat calls from boys you've never met before and have no interest in. This is different. This is good. "No."

The breath John lets out doesn't sound like he's been holding it, more a pleased sigh than anything, accompanied by a low hum. "Good girl. Appreciate you telling me. Is this something you want?"

"I just said -?"

"Not wanting me to stop and wanting something to follow through to its logical conclusion are not the same things. Is this something you want?"

The question grates - the notion that he would think of this all as a waste of time if you didn't know you wanted him, maybe. "Hadn't thought about it. You only just -," You counter vehemently, but John just laughs, a heavy burst of breath through his nose. It catches in his mustache - wind cutting through the grass.

"If I were to come home tonight to find you sleeping on my couch and decided to wake you up all sweetly and softly, would that be alright?"

You picture yourself sleep-soft and pliant, heavy hands soothing over your flank as John's rough voice coaxes you awake. "Yes," you breathe.

He hums approvingly. "And if I were to wake you with my tongue in your cunt, would that be too much?"

"John -!" you hiss, scandalized.

"Try again."

A beat passes where you try to smother the pit of nerves in your stomach. "Mr. Price."

"Better. Answer the question, sweetheart."

"Mr. Price, I -." You huff a breath, take advantage of the fact he can't see you to visibly straighten your spine, steel yourself. "Mr. Price, what do you want?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Easy. I've wanted to bend you over every available surface since you first barged into my bathroom and hinged yourself over that sink."

"I didn't."

"I want to keep that clever little mouth of yours quiet by stuffing it full of my cock. But I also want to hear you complain about what a brat my daughter's been all night because you're cute when you're mad. I want to come home and know what the two of you grabbed for dinner by licking it off your teeth." He pauses to give you an opening, notes your silence, and continues in a much softer voice. "And I want you to be able to focus on school a little better."

You can't manage anything better than a soft oh, and John's responding laugh is a low rumble, voice deceptively soft when he continues - the same voice he uses on Emily when she's too tired to behave properly. You wonder if his colleagues can hear him again, wonder if that's just how he's going to speak to you regardless.

"The question, sweetheart."

"I would like that, Mr. Price."

John's silent in the beat that passes, a hinge creaking open spilling ambient chatter in the background. He'd been sequestered, which means that last tone was only meant for you. "I'll see you tonight, kiddo. Behave for Daddy, yeah?"

[00kittenz]

── homie hoppin’ ( lhs, pjs, sjy, psh ) ּ 𓂅⋆ 📙

๑ Heeseung never wanted to believe the rumors about you around campus, to him you could never do wrong and he sees you as nothing less than an angel. But when his friends begin telling him about their nightly escapades with some “mystery girl” that sounds awfully familiar, he grows more suspicious of your true intentions you’ve been hiding all along.

pair: hyung line ㅊ f!reader, college au | warnings: pwp, smut, angst (kinda ??), hook-up culture, yn is the biggest fuckgirl omg (but she’s sooo cuntyy), humour, slut-shaming (not from the boys), daddy kink, oral (m + f. rec), mentions of running a train but it doesn’t happen lol, lots of s.x flashbacks, yn is so unbothered by everything 😴, unprotected s.x (yikes !!!) | teaser wc: 857

thanks to @leeechin & @pshbites for enabling this idea LOL, couldn’t have done it without them frfr. also here’s a silly little preview of what’s to come (it gets real MESSY in this sfdsfsd)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

heeseung was never really the type to ever engage in gossip or drama going around campus. he’d rather simply mind his business and keep it moving, it was useless to entertain it anyway— most of the rumors held zero truth or any proof to back them up. what does seem to grab his attention however, is your name being constantly brought up in almost everyone’s mouths. you were the talk of the whole school and it wasn’t anything good that was being said about the girl he’s been sleeping around with on and off for the past few months or so.

“oh you know about y/n? isn’t she the one who’s always bouncing from one friend group to the next ? i wouldn’t trust her around my man even for a second..”

“didn’t she let leehan hit it at that party last night ? that girl needs to be stopped, she’s always messing around with different guys..”

“wasn’t she just with eunseok last week ? he was telling me all about how him and sungchan took turns on her.”

he couldn’t believe half the stuff that was being said about you. not only was it just plain disrespectful, but it was also disgusting how some people could spew such fabricated nonsense as if you weren’t a real human being with feelings. heeseung knew you two weren’t exclusive but you’ve been seeing each other more frequently, which made him think he might have a chance to make things official. at least he thought so, until he saw you talking with one of his close friends, jaeyun in the library. you both were way too close for comfort and the way you were giving him those same bedroom eyes that you’d always flash at heeseung, made his whole body fill up with an unimaginable amount of rage.

you were quite popular and well known around campus, your charming persona and pretty face was the perfect combo to get anyone to fall head over heels for you. everywhere you went you’d turn heads, all the boys would be breaking their necks just to get a glimpse of you. the tiny skirts you’d always wear had their eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, which only made the other girls seethe in utter jealousy. the way you could command an entire room without even trying was a superpower in itself, you didn’t need to put in the extra work to get all the attention on you because everyone gave it to you automatically.

it wasn’t until heeseung began hearing more about his friend’s sex lives that he’d grow more suspicious of what’s really going on. he usually zones out and doesn’t really listen much whenever they talked about it, but since the movie they were watching wasn’t all that interesting, he began shifting his attention to his friends. jaeyun and jongseong were always bragging about how much pussy they’d get but they seemed to hyperfocus on one particular girl that seems to get brought up a lot in their conversations. jaeyun would say how she gave him the ‘most life changing head’ he’s ever received, meanwhile jongseong was describing how some girl he fucked a few days ago rode his dick like a grade A pornstar.

heeseung wasn’t adding much of his input into the conversation, and neither was sunghoon as he tends to keep that part of his life more private. but, what made him suddenly wanna jump up in his seat was when jaeyun was telling them how hot the girl looked when he fucked her from behind, she had a back tattoo and he thought that was the sexiest shit ever. he never specified exactly what the tattoo was, but he remembers that you also had one too. maybe he’s just reading too much into it ? could it really be you they were talking about ? nah.. there’s no way. he’s sure there’s plenty other women with back tattoos walking around campus, it simply could be an eerie coincidence. he knows he isn’t the only one that you’re sleeping with, but to mess around with his friends would be a new low for him. he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he were to find out that happened..

his worries would only worsen when he catches sunghoon smiling and faintly giggling at his phone about something, to which jongseong asks him what’s so funny. sunghoon simply shrugs it off and says it’s nothing, quickly locking his phone before he lifts up from the couch to announce that he’s going back to his dorm. they all exchange their goodbyes and wish him a safe walk back to his place. but when he left, he was walking in the direction completely opposite of his dorm, he was heading the exact same way it took to get to your building instead. now he’s really starting to overthink at this point. there’s absolutely no way you’re actually fucking all of his friends and he doesn’t have a single clue about it. heeseung may be quite oblivious at times but he isn’t that stupid. he’s probably overreacting. again, could just be a very weird coincidence… right ?

just leave a comment if you wanna be added to the taglist ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

[crazyvik97rpg]

Sebastian was so happy that William was now here too. He got a kiss, then William sat down next to him, held his hand. He told him right away about all the things he did before coming here and the reason why he was late. Sebastian understood of course – the fact that William even came to visit today despite being busy himself was already more than enough.

„Thank you so much, love. Surely by the time I‘m back home Snowflake will love you just as much“, he grinned, „And please, don’t worry about any stupid speeding tickets, really“, that was so not important right now anyway. Sebastian was was more curious about what their friends said, because clearly it was them that William spoke to today. Grandma Lillian listened attentively as well – so far she could already tell William was a very pleasant, friendly and endeavored young man and she could tell he cared for Sebastian a lot.

„I‘m…fine I guess“, Sebastian answered William’s question first, „I mean, honestly? Dr Cole said during her ward round in the morning that everything looks fine. But…still, all feels sore and uncomfortable, I guess that’s normal but it’s annoying. I‘m still on that pain meds IV of course but they don’t want to give me too much too often, so the wound generally just hurts all day. I can’t leave the bed, I can’t eat solid food, it’s really…okay. Not more and not less“, he sighed, kind of defeated and yet he still showed William a smile, „But…I don’t want to complain too much. I feel way better now that you are here“.

Well, Sebastian never cared if he was particularly cheesy in front of others – it wasn’t like his grandma didn’t know him. She found it amusing and also quite endearing.

„But now tell me. You told the others, right? What…what did they say? And…how was your day anyway? Tell me everything“.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[verstappenf1lecccc]

There you are

this is part two to what was i made for! please beware that this once again contains topics on mental health depression and postpartum depression and anxiety if you are not comfortable with those topics please don’t read any further. please know that mental health is a serious issue please get the help you deserve. as always let me know how this was :)

Lando knew he was wrong for screaming at you the moment he saw your eyes well up.

He regretted ever raising his voice. It wasn’t that he was trying to belittle you as a mother—God no! He would rather hurt himself than ever make you feel that way.

It was just that you looked like you were at your absolute wit's end, and poor little Charlotte was starting to turn red from all the tiny screams she was letting out. In a hasty decision, he snatched her away from you and rushed to give her a bottle, not realizing this would be your last straw.

You had made the mistake of going online after giving birth, only to face relentless criticism. They picked on everything, from your weight to your looks to how you held your own daughter. The cruelty felt endless. As if the criticism wasn’t enough, Ralph Lauren had chosen your husband as part of their campaign, thrusting him into the spotlight. Maybe it was the hormones or the lack of recognition for all you had gone through, but seeing all the women—especially his ex, maugi liking and commenting about him made you feel like he’d be better off with anyone else but you.

Each day became more challenging. Lando was too preoccupied with his mini-me to notice how the light was missing from your eyes or the constant discomfort you felt due to the soreness from breastfeeding issues.

You had even mentioned needing to see a doctor, only to be brushed aside. You felt lost, with no way out. Lando was a wonderful father no one could deny that but he was a poor husband, and he would eventually pay a high price for it.

A couple of hours after the screaming incident, Lando announced he would be home late, as he planned to go clubbing with Max and some friends. He didn’t look up from his phone to notice how exhausted and glassy-eyed you were. After kissing his daughter goodnight, he left, not even sparing a glance at the woman he claimed to love.

This was your chance. Charlotte was finally down after much fuss, and with Lando out, you felt this was the opportunity to end what you considered your burdened existence.

A friend had noticed your low spirits and lent you some of her depression pills, hoping they'd help you sleep. But you had something else in mind. You had made up your mind and even wrote a little note for Charlotte, telling her how much you loved her and that you would see her in heaven someday.

You wanted her to grow up kind and never to do what you were about to do. Your heart broke with each word, but you didn’t bother writing a note for your husband, assuming he’d be relieved to be rid of you.

With a heavy heart, you walked to Charlotte's cot, kissing her goodbye for the last time, taking in her perfect features and innocence. This was the last time you would see your daughter, and you felt at peace with that.

You took heavy steps to the guest bathroom, knowing Lando wouldn’t enter this room when he returned. It was the only room in the house that didn’t receive attention, perhaps why you chose it as your final place.

You set the bathtub to a scorching temperature, sat down with a bottle of pills in your hand, and said a final prayer, ready for the pain and exhaustion to end. Just thirty pills would set you free. With each pill, your heart emptied of hurt and suffering, your eyes shed their final tears, and your mind quieted. At last, everything went blank, and you were finally at ease.

Lando always prided himself on knowing when something was wrong with you, like a sixth sense. He never thought he’d feel that way in the middle of a nightclub, but the moment he got the feeling, he knew it was serious. His stomach was heavy with anxiety, his mind ablaze with thoughts. He had Max drive him home, and thank God he did. The moment he entered the house, he noticed the unsettling quiet. It was too quiet. You and he might not have been in a good place, but he expected to hear something a TV on or you talking to his mom.

Lando went up to check on Charlotte, wanting to ensure she wasn’t the reason for his worry. His little angel was sleeping peacefully, unaware of the chaos that was about to unfold. Lando nearly missed the small piece of paper near her cot, thinking it was trash, but as he picked it up, he felt his heart stop.

It was your note, a suicide letter. Each word filled him with a sense of horror and urgency he had never felt before. He never thought he’d be reading his wife’s final words.

Every step he took was rushed and panicked as he searched for you, desperate to find you alive. All he felt was regret—regret for not knowing, for not being there, for not asking. Lando eventually found you, cold but, to his relief, alive, lying in the guest bathroom.

The next 48 hours were hell for him, watching you still and silent in the ICU after having your stomach pumped. He finally understood the severity of postpartum depression. The doctor had a serious talk with Lando, deeply concerned about your mental state.

Determined to support your recovery, Lando did everything he could to make you feel better. Your road to recovery wasn’t easy; it was long and hard.

But with Lando by your side, things began to improve. He started each day with something positive to say about you and your relationship. He helped with Charlotte and showed incredible kindness when you were at your lowest. He also set boundaries with the media and fans to protect your privacy.

Day by day, you felt better and more confident. The best part was finally getting the help you had been desperately needing. You realized your fears were not reality, and with Lando’s love, you could overcome them.

Open communication became the cornerstone of your relationship.

Lando learned from his mistakes, and your daughter couldn’t get enough of you.

The negative voices in your head finally faded. You were back to being you.

With a husband who had truly woken up and was committed to never letting you feel that lost again.

tagged -:@sweate-r-weathe-r @annisassintchaska @fellowwomenlover

[rafecameronsleftbicep]

want more, rafe cameron

When reader and Rafe have been sneaking around with each other for the last two months, y/n can't help but want more. Bringing this up with him, she's under the impression he's embarrassed to be seen with a pogue.

warnings: swearing, insecurities, arguing, mentions of sex, angst, always a sucker for a happy ending though, it's a looong one <33

pairing: rafe cameron x fwbpogue!reader

Y/n was sat on the little bench outside her small home, right by the water as the wind blew through her hair. Her knees were tucked up to her chin as the kook boy who usually plagued her thoughts did just that, sink into her mind.

It was never meant to be more than a good time, something to pass the summer. He made her feel good - in more ways than one - he would take her out on dates, whisper sweet words to her, and the way he looked at her. She could swear he was in love, that he was just as infatuated with her as she was him. But the way he only took her to private and secluded places, the way his words were the most affectionate when he was deep inside her, the way he would put space between them whenever he saw someone he recognised. These small things, things he may not even realise he does, they all reminded her that she wasn't anything to him. He would never let himself fully be hers, he could never let his reputation fall like that.

He gave her just enough that she felt completely and utterly consumed by him. Craved his attention, his touch, even a small message would complete her day. However, as time went on she knew she needed more, she knew that she couldn't bear much more before she completely lost herself to please him.

"Come over" The message catches her attention, the illuminated screen laying on the bench beside her pulling her from her wandering thoughts.

She knew the message was from Rafe before her eyes even flicked to the screen, she never really had anyone else calling on her. It wasn't that she didn't have any friends, but she wasn't one to go out and the friends she kept knew that.

A couple weeks ago, she would've been on her way to his before she could even start replying, no thought needed except the thought of being in his proximity. Now, however, she was tired. Tired and sad, feeling pathetic really after spending so long thinking about him.

"feeling tired tonight. sorry, rafe" She replies slowly, her heart pounding as she sends it. She turns her phone back off, yet before she can place her phone back down her screen lights up with another message from him.

"Please, baby. I need you" He responds, her heart sinks. She doesn't know how much more she can stand up for herself, fighting that craving feeling she has for him.

"not in the mood rn tbh" She tries to stay strong, holding onto that tiny bit of dignity she has left in her.

"Don't even need to fuck"

"Just wanna be close to you"

Her heart pounds faster and her breathing is shaky. Fingers hovering over her illuminated screen. Every possible message she could write spinning though her head.

"you can come over then" She types out, deletes and types out again. She had never been so unsure in herself before, never doubted her own thoughts like this. But she sends it, stopping herself from contemplating and worrying further.

Rafe had been to her place a couple of times before, only ever to pick her up. Each visit shorter than the last, hurrying to leave as if humiliated to be caught in such a place. It made her feel ashamed of who she was, how she grew up and she felt even more embarrassed that she let a guy make her feel so insecure about something that could never change, something that literally made her who she was.

"Coming" The phone lights up for a last time in her hands and when her eyes run over the message she is filled with surprise and even more shame as her heart warms for him. She knows that him visiting her is the bare minimum. That being able to step foot in the place she calls home should not be seen as a difficult task. But she feels happy that he's coming to see her because he wants to.

She sits with her pathetic thoughts as she waits for him. Curling up on the bench as she watches the way the pearly moonlight glimmers across the waves perfectly. The soft wind sending chills down her spine and strands of her hair across her face.

"Y/n?" She hears his voice call out and for a moment she feels like she's lost hers. "Baby?"

"Yeah, around here" She replies softly as she sees him bend round the corner of her home. She has a tiny smile on her face, never fully reaching her eyes.

"Something wrong, pretty girl?" He mutters softly as he moves to sit next to her on the bench. He's dressed in sweats and she can only assume he's been relaxing at home prior to coming over. He gently takes her bare legs and slides them onto his lap. He can't help but let his eyes rake over her perfect body. The way she looks so small in his shirt he must've let her borrow once and some pyjama shorts. Yet for the first time, he puts aside his vulgar thoughts because he can tell she's unhappy.

Her eyes look into his, the way he's cracked open her feelings so easily, reading her like a book despite keeping a wall up of his own. Her breath shaky again as she gives a small shrug, her eyes dropping down to his hands. The way his thumb gently runs back and forth over her knee.

"Talk to me" He says softly, the crease between his brows deepening as he loses her gaze.

"Do you even care?" She voices gently. Not looking at him, to maintain the little power she has left over herself.

"What?" He mumbles with confusion, his body straightening up as he didn't expect such blunt thoughts from her.

"Do you even care that I'm upset? Or what I'm upset about?" She mumbles a bit louder as her gaze moves back over to the glistening waves ahead of them.

"O-of course I do, I don't understand?" He mutters as his thumb stops the stroking and instead slides to her chin, moving her face to look at him.

"I mean we aren't dating, and it feels like you've never really cared about how I feel outside the sex." She tells him for the first time. The tension feels suffocating, yet at the same time the weight off her shoulders is so liberating.

"That's what you think?" He asks her, a strong tone of annoyance or maybe disappointment.

The eye contact between them so intense that she feels as though she needs to take a deep breath before replying or she might pass out. "That's exactly how it feels." She admits gently with a shrug.

"That's not what this is." He says firmly, shaking his head as his hand slips off her chin and runs down his face with a huff.

"You're embarrassed to be seen with me. Face it, Rafe. It's not like we're dating. You only keep me around for a good fuck." She says shakily, running off adrenaline and the fact that there's no use stopping now that she's started.

"You don't embarrass me, I'm just not ready to make things official." He tells her unwaveringly, yet his eyes darting towards the water, the ground, her. Everything about his body and words make him seem so secure in himself. Yet his eyes express all his true emotions, how hesitant and insecure he really feels.

"God, Rafe. You can barely be seen with me, and I can't bear to be just some girl you fuck and take out secretly." She tells him, her throat feeling scratchy and sore as her eyes water lightly. She curses herself for getting so emotional, it wasn't even that serious yet she couldn't keep herself together.

His heart breaks, pained as she expresses her feelings to him, pained as he watches her fall apart in front of him. "I'm sorry for making you feel that way." He mutters gently.

"Don't be. You never promised me anything more than what you've given me." She shakes her head gently, as her eyes look at the side of his face.

"I want to give you more, I want to promise you the world." He whispers with his head in his hands.

"I can't continue feeling like this, Rafe." She tells him softly, "I can't handle craving you privately."

"I didn't know you felt like this..." He replies shamefully, his hands sliding down his face as he turns to look at her with torment. His eyes are glossy and his jaw is clenched, he doesn't know what there is to say to make this better.

"Don't bullshit." She mumble with a soft frown, not believing for a second that he didn't know she was completely infatuated with him.

"No, y/n. I mean it. I've... I feel for you. And I don't know how to handle it, express it. Fuck. I'm a mess, baby." He spills to her helplessly. "If I knew how I was hurting you, I would've done something, said something. I just- it's so difficult for me." His voice rasps and cracks unsteadily.

She doesn't know what to say, heart pounding as she watches his sincerity. She fiddles with her fingers anxiously as she tries to think of anything to reply with.

"Please believe me, pretty girl" He practically whimpers, his hands itching to feel her near him.

"What are we gonna do?" She whispers as she looks down at her hands. "Something needs to change... I can't go on like this" She tells him.

"I wanna make you mine." He tells her, giving in to his desperation to be close to her as his hand moves to rest on her anxiously fidgeting fingers.

"What's holding you back?" She mumbles as her eyes remain glued to their hands, fluttering closed for a moment as she soaks in the warmth of his hand.

"I-I don't know. I just, I feel so stupid because I want to give you the world but I'm the one stopping myself from giving it to you." He opens up quietly, his eyes boring into the side of her face. "But I know I need you, for more than just your body. I need you in every way I can have you." He whispers to her, gently pulling her closer so that his lips brush the shell of her ear. His closeness, warmth and the way his breath tickles her ear shoots a shiver down her spine.

"Please let me have you."

(a/n: i had to end it there or i would keep writing all night, i hope you all enjoyed!!)

[greengoblinswifey]

Only Yours— Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— based on this request.

warnings— jealous!reader, possessive!reader, sub!nicholas, ass slapping and grabbing, praise kink, marking, choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, oral, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff

You had agreed to go to the party, but only because your boyfriend asked you to. Frat parties weren’t usually your scene, but the way Nicholas’ eyes had lit up when he asked you had made it impossible to say no. And besides, having his hand on you while you danced together, his fingers resting on your hip and sometimes wandering to squeeze your ass, made it all worth it.

At one point, you left him to go to the bathroom and grab a drink. You got caught up chatting with a friend, which took a bit longer than you expected. When you turned back toward where you left Nicholas, your heart sank a little. A group of three girls had surrounded him, clearly flirting and trying to get his attention. One was pulling on his hand, another had her hand on his shoulder, and the third was leaning in way too close, laughing a little too loudly.

You watched as he tried to politely shrug them off, his expression nervous. He looked around, clearly uncomfortable but not wanting to be rude. You could see him saying something that must have hinted at you because all three girls suddenly glanced over in your direction. They seemed disappointed but finally backed off, one even winking at him before walking away.

When you made your way over to him, he turned and saw you, his eyes widening. “I—oh my god, I am so sorry, I didn’t know what to do! I tried to tell them, really, but they just kept going and I- I didn’t want to be rude—”

“Nicholas,” you interrupted softly, reaching up to touch his arm. “I know. I know you’re innocent and I know it wasn’t your fault.” You could feel your heart pounding a little, not just from the jealousy that had been building but from how sweet he looked, his face all worried. His cheeks flushed as he took in your words.

The party eventually died down, and you both left to head back to your dorm room, Nicholas still looking at you guiltily every few minutes as you walked. “I swear, I tried to tell them right away. I didn’t even know what to do when they got so close like that.”

“Nicholas,” you cut him off with a sigh, squeezing his hand. “It’s fine. You’re sweet for worrying, but really, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He could still sense something simmering under the surface.

He gave you a relieved smile but still looked a bit nervous. “I just, I don’t want you to think I was interested in them. I only have eyes for you.”

As you both got settled in your room, Nicholas seemed to sense there was still something lingering between you two. He watched you carefully, brow furrowed a little as if he was trying to read your mind. “Hey, uh, are you jealous?” he asked quietly, giving you a knowing look. He knew you far too well for you to brush it off.

You sighed, unable to hold back the truth. “Maybe just a little.”

He blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that. “You? Jealous?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, trying not to laugh at the way he seemed genuinely stunned. “But honestly, it’s fine, because I’m the one who gets to be with you tonight. Not them.”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked down shyly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I mean, that’s true.”

You leaned in close, your voice low and confident. “And now I’m going to show you who you really belong to, because it’s me, not any of those bitches, or anyone else.”

His breath hitched, and you could feel him tense a little, his eyes searching yours. Before he could say anything, you climbed into his lap, letting your hands trail up his shoulders. You captured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss, then moved down to his neck, leaving soft kisses and feeling his pulse quicken under your lips. You found the spot where he was most sensitive, and as you started to leave little marks along his skin, you could feel him shiver, his hands coming up to hold onto you, his breaths coming quicker.

He let out a quiet moan as you left a trail of kisses and a few dark red marks down his neck. “When they see you tomorrow,” you whispered with a smirk, “they’re going to know exactly who you belong to.”

As you held Nicholas close, you leaned in with a teasing smile. “Now, be a good boy and take our clothes off,” you whispered, watching his eyes go wide with anticipation. He started with you, his hands steady as he carefully helped you out of each piece, his gaze lingering with admiration. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, eyes soft as they traveled over you.

He reached for the hem of his own shirt, but you gently stopped him, meeting his gaze. “Let me,” you said firmly. “No one else is ever going to get to do this, just me. You belong to me.”

His breath caught, and he nodded, allowing you to take control, each piece of clothing removed with a deliberate slowness that made the anticipation build between you. When he was fully naked, you let him sink back, feeling his trust and warmth radiate as you knelt down in front of him.

You took ahold of his hard cock, stroking while you took him deep. His breaths grew shaky, and his hands instinctively gripped the sheets as you took your time, letting every reaction, every soft whimper he made, guide you.

“Tell me,” you murmured between movements, voice low. “Who’s making you feel good?”

“You are,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper, his whole body shuddering under your touch.

“Fuck, and who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?” you asked, sliding your mouth slowly off him.

“Ah- only- only you Y/N,” he gasped. You felt his balls tighten and his fists gripped the sheets harder signaling he was close to his end.

“Now be a good boy and cum for me.”

As he finally released, his eyes met yours with intensity. You leaned up, pressing a rough, lingering kiss to his lips, and felt him relax under your touch, his hands finding your tits as you both held each other close.

“Can I eat your pussy?” he asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Why do you think you deserve to taste me?” you teased.

“Um— because I, uh, because I belong to you, you own me and I have to make you feel good, I want you to,” he said, stuttering.

“Wow, you’re learning. Well then get on your knees and do it.”

You switched positions, Nicholas going on his knees and you took his position in bed. You were soaked for him as he pried your legs open, marveling at the sight before him. He attached his mouth to your clit, sucking like he had a point to prove. He did. He was showing you he belonged to you. No other woman would feel what he was giving you.

“That’s my good boy, don’t stop baby,” you moaned, your hips bucking and your hand gripping his hair roughly.

He winced at the pain as you dragged him by his hair on where you wanted his tongue but the pain was his pleasure. He sucked your clit with such ferocity, you couldn’t hold back even if you wanted to.

“You make me feel so good, I’m gonna cum on your tongue baby,” you whimpered.

You gripped his hair roughly, pressing his face against your pussy as it quivered and your release ripped through you. Panting, he sucked every drop of you, gripping under your thighs as your toes curled and his name was on your lips like a prayer.

You pulled him up by his neck as soon as your high subsided, your eyes locking with his. He gasped as you shoved him hard onto the bed, the intensity in your gaze made his pulse race. Though he was used to your dominant side, something in your movements tonight left him wide-eyed and blushing.

You climbed on top of him with a look that silenced any thoughts he might have had. “Let this be a constant reminder,” you murmured, running a finger down the dark red marks on his neck then resting your hand around it possessively, “of who the fuck belong to.” His face flushed, and he nodded, breathless, clearly under your spell.

As you sank onto him, his hands gripped your waist instinctively, holding on like he’d fall apart otherwise. His gaze flickered between your eyes, filled with admiration and a hint of that familiar shyness.

You ignored the burning stretch you felt, bouncing roughly on his cock as his moans grew louder and louder.

“B-baby, please s-slow down, god, I’m gonna—”

“Shut up and take it,” you murmured, your hand squeezing his throat harder and making his head spin.

Your ass slammed onto his cock, the feeling making him gasp and plead, he wasn’t going to last long.

“Please baby, I’m gonna cum,” he sobbed.

“You don’t cum unless I tell you to, take whatever I give you.” He nodded his head frantically, not wanting to disobey you. Your hips moved in a circular motion driving him crazy as he focused all his energy on holding back the cum threatening to explode from his cock.

You licked the side of his face making his eyes roll back and he knew if you didn’t tell him to cum soon, no matter how much he tried, he wouldn’t be able to hold it.

“Oh fuck, you always stretch me so well,” you moaned, your hips grinding on his cock.

He couldn’t even form a sentence if he wanted to, all he could do was moan and sniffle, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as the pleasure become too much.

“Hold me Nick,” you moaned.

He did as he was told and your body shook as you came all over his cock. The feeling of your juices drenching him made him sob and plead.

“Please Y/N, please, please, please baby, just let me cum, just this once,” he begged.

You leaned down, your voice soft but firm. “Since you’re begging so nicely, cum inside me,” you whispered, placing a soft bite along his jawline. He drew in a shaky breath, as if he’d been waiting to hear that.

“T-thank you, thank you so much, you’re so incredible.

He moaned deeply, the sound going straight to your throbbing pussy and he squeezed your ass, bucking his hips up as he practically exploded inside you. He whimpered and sobbed, his cum seeming to be never ending. You didn’t think he had ever cum that much in one sitting.

You held him close to you as he shivered underneath your touch, his cock still twitching and throbbing inside you.

“Wow, you came so much, my sweet boy, you did so good for me.”

You kissed all over his sweaty face, wiping the small tears that rolled down his cheeks as he stared at you in complete awe.

Easing off his cock, you both gasped and he watched as his cum oozed out of your pussy. You lay beside him, bringing his head onto your chest and he held you close, his breathing slowly going back to normal.

“I definitely know who owns me now,” he chuckled breathlessly, “and m’sorry again, I’ll do more next time.”

You only responded with a smile, kissing his forehead then his lips, a silent acceptance.

[bloggerspam]

And here it is, the epilogue! We skip back a little bit in this one, for some yummy deleted scenes. Thank you @phantomfen and @haleswallows for your lovely support, this couldn't have happened without ya'll! And thank you @ashrayus for the art that inspired it all. I hope I did you proud!

===

Cass observes BruceBatdad from her vantage point two rooftops away.

She hears StephSpoiler join her soon after, TimRobin following just seconds later.

BruceBatdad is not alone.

A woman and a boy stand before him, and Cass would be a fool to not remember that face, to not know who they are.

Even from so far away, it is hard to forget the woman who gave her candy once, all those years ago.

It is hard to forget her words then too.

I have a son, Talia Al-Ghul had said then, but I'm afraid he does not like sweets, will you throw them away for me?

Cass hears TimRobin and StephSpoiler bicker quietly behind her, lets BabsOracle's soothing voice demanding explanations wash over her in harmony.

JayHood's low timbre joins the cacophony, DickieWing's excited chatter echoing in the comms as he makes his way over. It is Sunday, that Sunday, brunch Sunday, so he is in Gotham tonight.

Bludhaven must be lonely.

She squints. BabsOracle starts to hiss, TimRobin and StephSpoiler tumbling over each other now.

DamianBabyBrother stands at attention, but his gaze is on them.

She waves. He does not wave back. That is okay.

DickieWing cartwheels onto their roof, gives Cass a pat on the head before wrangling the other two.

Cass observes their new baby brother, but does not get much. He is well trained. It does not matter, there will be time to learn.

"Show of hands," BabsOracle's voice is strict, commanding. They all freeze, trained in a better way, "New family member."

Immediately, all hands go up. TimRobin hesitates. It is okay. There will be time.

Cass smiles, watches DickieWing whoop, leading the race back to the Cave.

Cass waves again, but knows not to wait this time, twirling her way through her siblings.

She intends to win the race back home.

===

Alfred contemplates his newest ward as he wipes his hands.

The little one wants to know if there are any tasks assigned to him, which is new and refreshing.

This is, of course, sarcasm.

Master Jason refused to accept food without some kind of chore to exchange.

Miss Cass still shadows him occasionally, on alert for anything Alfred should need.

Even Master Duke is in the habit of asking Alfred if he can help anywhere.

Alfred had indulged them, of course, once in a while. Help them feel at ease.

The problem now is that Master Damian is not actually asking for tasks.

He is asking for information.

That is what intrigues him.

Master Damian stands quietly at attention, patiently, as Alfred considers the best way to navigate this.

"Well," Alfred lifts an eyebrow, "It isn't entirely necessary, Master Damian."

"I must earn my keep," the young master insists, "Blood son or not, I do not plan to waste away here."

Alfred hums. "Then I suppose it would depend on where your skills lie, Master Damian."

"I was trained in survival," Master Damian replies with nary a pause, "I can cook, and do basic cleaning." He tilts his head, reminding Alfred of a Young Master Bruce. "Admittedly, I am unsure of my skill level with no-one to compare to, as it was not necessary to my training."

Alfred lets that ruminate. He could have the young master help with dishes first, chat as he cooks for the family. It would be nice to have someone in residence to help with cooking again. Master Jason still avoids the Manor quiet often, after all.

"It is at least edible," Master Damian must mistake his silence as refusal, "And I learn quick."

"Yes," Alfred reassures the boy, "I am aware. Let's have you start with dishes, shall we?"

Master Damian's lip quirks to the side, small and so very familiar, and rolls up his sleeves.

Yes, this will do. Alfred smiles back, turning around to work on tonight's dinner.

Now, how much to reveal?

===

Steph watches the newest baby Wayne scrutinize Dick's somersault with the kind of concentration of a life and death threat.

It's impressive and at once entirely so sad that Damian executes a perfect somersault two tries later.

Once to get the feel. Twice to adjust.

Genius? Or training?

Steph doesn't really want to know.

It's the 16th item on the list that Damian has excelled at within the first five tries. Steph wants so badly for this little baby to let loose. He's been here for a couple months and he still thinks his stay is temporary.

As if Bruce would let his babiest bat go back to that asshole Ra's.

Talia might be cool, Steph doesn't know. Damian sure loves her, just from the scant sentences he's said about her. But sometimes love just…isn't enough.

Damian does a perfect one handed handstand, twirling around just like Dick did and stepping delicate down, and eyeing the tightrope Duke and Steph had set up for him to try. There's a unicycle somewhere in the gym, they just have to find it.

"Does this spark joy?" Damian tilts his head, from where he's perfectly balanced on the stupid unicycle and looking way too smug about it.

"It does not." He finally answers, dismounting with boring aplomb.

The next hobby is skateboarding—Tim shows Damian how to do an ollie, once the kid has the hang of standing on the board.

It is a special kind of delight to watch a trained-from-basically-birth assassin eat shit on a skateboard.

A pencil is tossed unerringly at her forehead whilst she loses breath laughing, and you know what?

It's totally worth it, especially when it devolves quickly into an office supply version of a food fight between the five of them.

They try new hobbies, and each time, Steph asks "Does it spark joy?"

And each time Damian considers, before he answers very seriously, "It does not."

Steph's gotta admit, the sincerity is what does it for her.

By the end of it, Steph loses the bet, but it doesnt matter.

Babybat'll fit in fine.

===

Duke comes down to breakfast and immediately realizes something is wrong.

Damian has been in the Manor for a while now, and it's been routine for Duke to see him making breakfast with Alfred every Tuesday and Wednesday.

Today is Friday, and Damian is at the stove, alone.

"Hey, little dude." Duke cautiously greets, "Where's Alfie?"

"Pennyworth went to fetch more eggs." Damian doesn't turn around, but he answers, and that's all Duke can really ask for. "Someone had used it up last night, without permission."

Duke whistles. "Enough of them to warrant an emergency shopping trip?" Alfie usually keeps a burden's amount of eggs in the fridge always stocked up.

"Brown and Grayson," Damian carefully says, smirking over his shoulder and obviously trying not to laugh, "decided they wanted pancakes."

"Oh my god." Duke laughs, already seeing disaster and trying to keep it all in to ask his question, "What—what did they do?"

"Apparently," Damian drags out, "They thought that eggs and flour was enough to make the batter."

Damian comes to the table, placing a perfect plate of sunny side up eggs, bacon, and hash in front of Duke.

"Needless to say, they made almost two kilos of pasta instead." He places the second plate at the head of the table. "They tried to fry some of it anyway, and ruined two pans before they realized that perhaps, maybe, pancake batter should look a little more…liquid."

By the time Damian has his own plate sitting across from Duke, he can't breathe from how hard he's laughing.

Bruce walks in, and they no doubt paint a peculiar picture: Damian, smirking and daintily eating his eggs. And Duke, curled over the table and trying to recover and succeeding at a snail's pace.

"Good morning Father." Damian primly greets.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Bruce's voice is confused, but amiable. He carefully picks his way to his spot and compliments Damian on breakfast, who nods in satisfaction.

"Duke, are you alright son?" Bruce asks, when Duke can finally straighten up take one deep breath.

"He'll be fine, Father." Damian waves his fork, "On an unrelated note, would you perhaps be opposed to pasta for lunch?"

Duke fucking loses it.

===

"Well?" Damian sits himself down delicately, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, expectantly.

They're down in the Cave, sitting across from each other at the round table in the main area, side by side.

Tim rolls his eyes, fine. No pleasantries then. "Are you considering joining the family business?"

Damian tilts his head, puppy-like, not that he'll ever say that to his face. "Which one?"

And that's a fair point. "Either. Any."

Damian purses his lips, in the same exact way Bruce does, thinking. "I am undecided. Why?"

"I was thinking that it was time for me to start making moves to…" Tim wants to be delicate here, considering the history Damian has, "…well, move on."

"Be more clear, Drake." And wow, the way Damian furrows his brow in annoyance is identical to Jason, "Use your words."

Tim huffs. "Robin, Demon Brat." Tim enunciates his words, trying not to smile at the way Damian perks up. "I want to retire."

Damian eyes him mistrustfully, darting from Tim's coffee cup, to his tablet, even to the BatComputer where Tim has a DNA sample running. "…I highly doubt that."

"UGH," Tim groans, "I want to rebrand, so I'm giving you the Robin domino or whatever."

"The Robin mantle must be earned," Damian puffs up like an irate Pomeranian, making Tim laugh for more reasons than one.

"I already retired once." Tim informs him, "Steph was Robin for a hot minute, making her own suit from a Halloween costume."

"She what." Damian's voice is dangerous, but Tim flaps a hand. He can blow steam as much as he wants, he's the baby of the family and despite it all Tim's 87% sure Damian wouldn't hurt a fly.

…Maybe a solid 66%. He'll have to run the numbers.

"She gave it up to be Spoiler real quick," Tim continues, "And then some shit happened, and though he wasn't officially a Robin, Duke was part of the We Are Robin movement."

Damian fumes in silence, which shouldn't be funny, but is.

"In other words, Demon Brat," Tim smirks, "Lots of people have been Robin. And if you don't take it now, well…who's to say someone else won't just…make their own costume?"

Tim waits out Damian's breathing exercises, patient and frankly, uncaring. He fiddles on his tablet, sips at his coffee, considers new vigilante names. With Dick now acting as Nightwing, the transition to Young Justice won't be as confusing even if he did join up as Robin, but Tim would rather not.

Just thinking about the mistaken identity issues with Dick's romantic history is already giving him nightmares. Slim as the chances are, with their builds being so different, but Tim just doesn't want to take that chance.

"Fine." Damian finally says, "I concede. When will training start?"

Tim scoffs. "You're League trained, so you'll just be shadowing for protocol. There's a manual somewhere that Bruce made, but we mostly treat it as a guideline. The Batkids have their own that they update, and you already have access to that on your tablet." Tim gives him a look. "Tell me you need access."

Damian wisely stays silent. Tim remembers that the League isn't really attuned to the intricacies of hacking and coding, but Damian has had no trouble snooping through the system from what Tim has seen. He wonders if the League just got upgraded since Cass got trained, or if Damian is self taught. It doesn't matter.

"Right. Well, Dick said he'll take you on a mission whenever your schedule is open, and you can shadow me on my current patrol, move around. You won't be able to patrol on your own for a while but—"

"What will be your new name?" Damian interrupts, eyebrow raised. Curious.

"Oh—uh. I haven't thought about it." Tim stutters. He didn't expect Damian to ask—

"Liar." Damian accuses, squinting at him.

Tim sighs. "I dunno, Red Robin?"

"That's a terrible name." Damian's nose scrunches. "A stupid name, even."

"Wha—it is not!" Tim slams his tablet down. Damian's eyes suddenly go wide, horror dripping through his tone.

"Drake—tell me you did not simply combine Red Hood and Robin."

Tim stays absolutely fucking silent, grabbing his coffee to keep his mouth occupied.

"Drake, I implore you to be better than this." Damian slaps a hand over his face, which is rude.

"Hey! That is—that is just uncalled for—" Tim pulls his cup down, almost spilling it. He swears, but Damian pays no heed to him.

"I knew you were a fan of Todd's Robin, but this cannot go on. Did you expect me to graduate and become Green Robin?"

"No! That's stupid, there's not such thing as a green robin—"

"There's no such thing as a red robin either! Unless you wish to be named after a subpar restaurant." Damian throws his hands up.

"You've never even been to a Red Robin!" Tim sputters, and tries to get a handle on the situation.

He fails.

"You have at least sixteen unique aliases with full on back stories that you successfully keep track of and disguise yourself into, and you cannot do any better than Red Robin?" Damian says, loudly, over his protests and effectively silencing him,

Tim opens his mouth, closes it. Shuts his eyes. Grumbles. "Well I'd like to see you come up with a better name…"

"Cardinal." Damian gets up, stalking towards the secret entrance, clearly done with this conversation. "I cannot fathom how little sense you have. Ridiculous."

And well. Tim hates to say it, but Cardinal is much better than Red Robin.

Gods damn it.

===

"I will name her Batcow." Dick refuses to coo. Damian is covered in blood and wielding a sword, this is not cute behavior!

How did this happen? This was their first mission. It was supposed to be easy. Tomorrow, Tim was going to take him out on patrols. The weekend after that, Jaybird was going to take him paintballing. Steph and Duke were going to teach him how to prank people harmlessly. This was supposed to be nice, easy Robin bonding!

"That's nice, baby bird." Dick tries to placate, "We can shuffle her with the other cows to their new home—"

"Nightwing," Damian's voice brokers no argument, "I have claimed her."

Dick has to wonder if he was as much of a menace when he was this age. He wasn't, surely. Sure, he got Ace in an unconventional way, but Ace was practically made for hero-ing.

Not to mention Ace was a dog.

"It's great that you want a pet," Dick tries again, "But how about we start with a dog first? Maybe a cat?"

Damian thinks on that a bit, before nodding. Dick sighs a great sigh of relief.

"I would like one of each." Wait. What? No. Nononono—

Cackling echoes in the comms, the hysterics of Steph and Jaybird loud and guffawing in his ear.

"Stop laughing and help me." Dick hisses into the comms as Damian starts flicks the blood of his sword.

"I used to put him in, in air jail." Jaybird says through gulps of air, "Y'know, pick him up wh-hen he was acting n-naughty."

"That isn't exactly applicable here, Hood!" Dick grits through his teeth, causing Steph to shriek in high pitched laughter.

"We will have to take the jet," Damian interrupts, "Batcow will not fit on our motorcycles."

"No, Robin—we, uhm. We don't have room for a cow at home—" Dick wants to tear his hair out. He's too young for this, surely.

Heedless of his words, Damian starts to gently lead the cow towards him, raising a single eyebrow.

"Okay, well. We do have room, but that doesn't mean—"

"Nightwing. Robin." Dick has never been more glad to hear Bruce's voice, "Leave the cow with the proper authorities and report back to the Cave."

"Father," Damian's voice suddenly changes, "I would like to take Batcow home."

"…Robin," Bruce starts, but is summarily interrupted.

"Father, you have missed twelve of my birthdays." Damian's voice goes wobbly, despite Dick physically seeing that his face is stone cold, "And I have not once received a gift."

There's a long silence, and Dick slumps. What the fuck do you even say to that?

"…The jet will pick you up in 3 minutes."

"And the dog and cat?" Damian's voice is smug.

Dick sighs. "I'll take you to the shelter tomorrow."

The comms peak, from the sheer volume of Jay and Steph's mocking laughter.

===

Bruce enters his study with a tablet in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. 

It's been a long day.

He’s tired, preoccupied with thoughts of Damian starting school soon. The rest of his children seem to be causing some kind of trouble trying to celebrate it in their own way, and it's giving Bruce a minor headache about it.

Talia's continuous demands of pictures and actual reports is both heartwarming and excessive, but Bruce can hardly blame her.

His eyes should be scanning through the documents that Lucius sent over this morning and is still awaiting approval for. 

What his eyes catch on instead is a new addition to his Gray Ghost shelf. 

It’s an action figure of the eponymous hero, one in almost pristine condition. A first edition. 

Inside the cloche with the Gray Ghost gun is a miniature version resting just beside it. The RC car also has a miniature version perched next to its front wheel. Between the trilby and the goggles lay two hands and a miniature case of the first DVD release.

He tilts his head, feeling his eyebrow raise and a smile crawl up as he picks up the action figure to inspect it. It looks old, but clean. Not quite used, but not sitting on a shelf either—there’s little knicks here or there. Perhaps found in a garage sale somewhere? It’s not even his birthday—still, the gift warms his heart as anything involving his children does.

Now, which one of his kids did this, he wonders?

No matter, he’ll find out soon enough. His children are terrible at keeping secrets, and he isn't Batman for nothing.

He places the figure gently back down in its place, and settles in for the long haul.

===

Talia sits, straight backed with her legs crossed in a highly uncomfortable chair.

Next to her, her Beloved looks lovely in his turtle neck and slacks, comfy, even.

She looks around the room, noting the whiteboard and assortment of small desks behind them,

There are motivation posters, and informational ones with equations listed upon them.

Talia refrains from scoffing, but really, what is the point of putting the answer up on the wall? How will they learn if they have such a crutch?

"Now," The portly man sitting across from them behind a large desk coughs to clear their throat, "Damian has shown high intelligence, his grades are top of the class and he has shown such high promise that the other teachers and I have discussed whether or not it would be beneficial for him to move up grades."

"I believe the principal and I already had this conversation, Mr. Porter." Bruce smiles, but it isn't the nice one, "Dami has always been a smart boy, but he was home-schooled, and we were more concerned about his socialization."

"Ah, yes. Well. The girls in the class seem to find him charming, albeit stoic. He is gentlemanly for his age, and doesn't really participate in…" Mr. Porter coughs once more.

Talia rolls her eyes. "In idle immaturity?"

"Well, yes. It's just—well," Mr. Porter tugs at his collar, "It's just boys being boys really."

"Has he made any friends? Of either gender?" Bruce asks, giving Talia a warning look. She shrugs, putting on her best innocent smile.

"Oh! Yes, one boy, Colin Wikes." Mr. Porter takes out a handkerchief to wipe his brow, "They seem to get along, in their own quiet way."

"That's lovely!" Talia's voice goes high, fake. Bruce winces, but she ignores him, "So his grades are up, he's made a friend, and overall he's popular with the ladies!"

"W-well, yes, but the other boys—"

"Now, now. Bruce is a lady-killer himself, and he managed to figure out male friendships eventually!" Talia simpers,"He had such a close friendship with Harvey Dent after all, before that whole...fiasco."

Bruce sighs, but again, Talia ignores him. "Now, I hear that my son has a talent in art? I see that none of them are hung up—"

This is very important business after all.

No-one can stop her from achieving her mission.

===

Jason opens his door carefully, quietly.

His traps have been disabled and reset, and Jason can only think of two people who would do that.

Both of them came from the League, and both of them don't take kindly to being startled.

He drops his work bag, the one for his mechanic's job, down in the entrance way. He takes of his heavy boots and treads silently through the apartment to find out which sibling came to visit.

He's greeted by Damian, asleep on his couch with an open and currently in danger of falling copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Jason quickly tiptoes over, grabs the book before it can fall to the ground, grabbing the kid's bookmark—a pressed flower that Cass made for him—and placing it to the side.

The fact that the kid hasn't woken up is testament to their time in the League.

Jason's been getting bits and pieces back, ever since he got shot and saw double vision of Damian and a younger version of the kid administering first aid to him.

Talk about shock therapy.

It's not all that pleasant, the memories.

He remembers the grueling training, the pain and anguish and fear of not remembering. Not knowing who he was, knowing Robin was important, not knowing what to do.

But not all of them are bad.

He remembers forcing Damian to brush his teeth for longer than 2 minutes, remembers tucking the tyke in with the bear, even the figure.

He remembers various missions, where he would pick up Damian and carry him to the nearest food stand to make him try an assortment of street foods with a series of flailing movements. Remembers the feeling of accomplishment and pride whenever the little guy would express it was adequate, because that was as good as a 5 star rating.

He remembers carrying him, hastily packed duffle bag and all, and thinking Gotham, Gotham is the safest place to be but not knowing why.

Mostly he remembers watching Damian sleep, peacefully, like he is now.

Because it's novel, then and now, how Damian trusts him enough to do it.

He sits himself down for a moment, always a little woozy when memories come surfacing up, breathing deep and leaning back. It's getting easier to remember, and Leslie had said it would stop eventually, so he weathers it out.

A second later, something warm thumps into his lap.

Damian has his head there, hands fisted like kitten's paws, curling up like a little ball.

Jason sees double, triple, memories and memories of watching this boy sleep and feeling honored and responsible and attached to him.

Brothers in arms, Talia had said, back when he wasn't quite himself, but wasn't Damian's Robin anymore either. You have a brother—

Jason had cut her off then, yelling that no replacement could ever be his brother.

He had eaten his words then, and he's eating them now too.

He lays a hand on Damian's back, rubs up and down his tiny shoulder blades, the way Bruce did when he was first adopted.

Brothers indeed.

He shuts his eyes, just for a moment, to breathe in the peace.

He falls asleep like that, dreaming of teddy bears and robins, and deadly, deadly assassins.

some jasons and damians thats been piling up :]

(and tim and alfred the cat)

[sodavizz]

—Island In The Sun!

ct: @the-phantom-peach of their amazing art of my bb <33

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Pairings: Daisuke x F! Reader

Wc: idk 1k+

Warnings: None, just pure fluff :3

Daisuke had always loved the beach. The salty air, the endless stretch of sand, and the way the waves whispered secrets as they hit the shore—he felt at home here. But today, there was something different. Maybe it was the sun, sinking low in the sky and casting everything in gold, or maybe it was just the way she stood out in the crowd.

He had been sitting there for a while, mindlessly playing with the sand, but his eyes kept drifting over to her. She was laughing with her friends, her hair shimmering like threads of gold in the sunlight, her smile so effortless it almost looked like it belonged in a movie. She wore a white sundress that fluttered in the breeze, and to him, she was... perfect.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight. Honestly, he’d always thought that was a little cheesy, the stuff of rom-coms. But in that moment, watching her from across the beach, something inside him clicked. He had never seen anyone quite like her before, and before he knew it, he couldn’t stop staring. His heart started racing, and all he could think was: Who is this beautiful lady?

But she wasn’t looking at him. Not at first.

Her attention was on her friends, who were goofing around and splashing in the water. Daisuke watched from a distance, hoping she might glance his way, but the more he stared, the more he realized she was completely oblivious. Maybe that was for the best. What could he possibly say to someone like her?

Then, a voice broke his concentration.

“Dude,” one of his buddies teased, nudging him lightly. “Are you gonna just stare at that girl all day?”

Daisuke froze. He didn’t know if he should laugh or die of embarrassment.

----

You looked over, your gaze scanning the beach, and sure enough, your eyes landed on him. For a split second, both of your eyes met, and then he quickly looked away, as though he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Seriously?” you muttered, half-smiling and half-rolling your eyes. “He’s still looking.”

Your friends burst out laughing. “Looks like someone’s got a crush!”

You shot them a look but couldn’t help the flush that crept up her neck. You turned your attention back to your friends, pretending not to care, but you had to admit—there was something a little funny about being the center of his attention.

----

The hours passed, and soon the sun had dipped below the horizon. The beach bar, a cozy little spot right on the sand, began to fill up with people wanting to make the most of the evening. She and her friends decided to grab a table, the mood light and easy. Daisuke was still sitting at the bar, nursing a beer, but now, instead of just glancing over at her, he was watching her from across the room.

He’d been trying to build up the nerve to go over and talk to her for what felt like forever. He wasn’t a shy guy, but there was something about her that made him feel out of his league. She was beautiful, sure, but there was more to it than that. It was like she had this effortless confidence that made him second-guess everything he was going to say.

“Just go talk to her, man,” his friend had said earlier, giving him an encouraging nudge. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst? He didn’t even want to think about it.

So he stayed put, watching from a distance as she laughed with her friends. And then, just as he was thinking maybe it wasn’t meant to be, he saw her glance in his direction. Their eyes met again—this time, not for a fleeting second, but long enough for him to feel his heart race.

Okay. That was it. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up. His palms were sweaty, and his stomach was in knots. He wasn’t used to feeling this nervous, but there he was, walking toward her table.

She noticed him coming, her eyebrows raising in mild surprise. She’d probably thought he wasn’t going to approach after all the staring he’d been doing earlier.

He stopped in front of the table, feeling like he might faint any second. “Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just, uh... I had to come over and say hi.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re the guy from the beach, right?”

Daisuke couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, that’s me. I mean, I guess I’m the guy who stared at you all afternoon.” He immediately cringed, cursing himself inwardly.

The girl chuckled. “No, it’s fine. You just caught my attention. It’s not every day a guy spends hours staring at you.”

He winced. “Yeah, that wasn’t... ideal. But, hey, I thought I should at least introduce myself. I’m Daisuke.”

She gave him a playful smile. “[insert y/n].”

There was a brief silence, and for a second, Daisuke wondered if he should just walk away. But then, She spoke again, her tone light.

“So, what made you finally come over? After all that staring?”

Daisuke smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know. I guess I figured I’d regret it if I didn’t say something. And I didn’t want to be that creepy guy who just stares and never does anything about it.”

[Insert y/n's] smile softened, and for a moment, he thought maybe she was going to laugh at him. But instead, she just looked at him with a kind of warmth in her eyes that made him feel a little less ridiculous.

“Well, I��m glad you did,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “So, uh, what’s your deal, Daisuke? What brings you to this part of the world?”

And just like that, the awkwardness started to fade. The conversation flowed, easy and natural. They talked about everything—how they both loved the ocean, their favorite kinds of music, the weirdest things they’d ever seen on vacation. They joked about everything from childhood memories to the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to them in public. Before long, the tension had melted away completely, and it felt like they’d known each other for years.

The night wore on, and eventually, the bar began to close. But they weren’t in a hurry.

As they stood up to leave, Daisuke found himself feeling... content. There was something real about this connection. No forced pickup lines. No awkward silences. Just two people talking, getting to know each other in the easiest way possible.

“Hey,” Daisuke said, pulling out his phone. “Maybe we can grab coffee sometime? I know, super original, right?”

[insert y/n] smiled, her eyes bright. “I think I’d like that.”

And just like that, what had started as a nervous glance across a crowded beach had turned into something more—something that felt, for the first time in a long while, like it could actually be the beginning of something good.

-----

testing, hehe

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1312

Chapter 37:

When you walked into the Iron Maiden and climbed the first two steps, you did not expect to hear Jen shouting for anyone other than herself.

"Lilla! Lilia!"

Her shouts echoed across the stone walls, and you let Agatha continue up ahead as you turned and chose to check what was going in.

Yet when you found her hitting her fists against a dirt wall, shouting the name of a certain witch that was not amongst you... you realized.

Your lips pressed against one another, forming a flat line and momentarily you closed your eyes; offering a silent prayer and a moment of respectful peace for the brave witch.

Lilia was not close to you, and the way she often stared at you made you keep your distance from her. But in the end, she cared for the coven; more than anyone.

In the end, she sacrificed herself so the rest of you could move forward; one trial closer in reaching the end of the road and the much needed prize.

A prize, one would start questioning if it was worth it, after all the mental and physical torture... and the losses.

Jen needed a moment to recover, tears being wiped by the back of her hand before she sat down by the steps; trying to process yet another loss.

One that she truly felt this time.

Teen joined her while you stood close. You could have left them behind, go find Agatha, but you chose not to. They needed to mourn, to process everything before being able to continue.

Agatha would be fine, for she was not stupid enough to walk away. Yet you could not help but have this feeling... that something was not right.

"Rio." Jen started, unsure where to start. "Green Witch with a capital G. She told us who she was in the very beginning." She continued, earning Billy's attention, who was not catching up.

"Green Craft is about the cycle of all living things. Growth and decay in constant flow." You chose to enlighten him, leaning against the stone wall with hands folded in front of your chest.

At least you were out of that dress, which was perhaps the only positive thing you could think of right now. That and the fact that you were alive, one trial closer in getting out of this helish road.

Billy looked at you, not surprised you knew. He had come to realise, with your past related to Agatha, that you knew far more than the rest of the coven members.

"So Agatha's ex is Death." He concluded, trying to wrap his head around the idea that death was a woman; one capable of faling in love from the looks of it. "Well, one of her exes." he looked at you again.

You kept your lips pressed to one another. "Pretty much,"

"That makes sense," he commuted. Somehow, it did make sense; though by now, he did question his sanity and mind.

"You knew, didn't you?" Jen asked next, her gaze on your form.

This time, though, she was too tired to judge. Too tired to throw any sparky remarks. She just wanted some more answers. She deserved to know after all the trials she had been through with the coven.

You sighed. "I did."

"And you didn't tell us."

In honour of her grief and Lilia's sacrifice, you chose not to react to her words. "You didn't ask me, not her, not anyone," you replied calmly.

It was Jen's turn to sigh. "No, we didn't." she placed the back of her head against the wall.

Silence enveloped the group of three, no one truly knowing what to say. Some were even hesitant to move, trying to savour as much as they could, this little moment of peace.

Who knew what they would face next? How quick will the next trial come meet them?

As you three sat there, it was then that your fellow witches took notice that someone was missing.

"Where is Agatha?" Jen questioned, looking around but finding no sign of the magicless witch.

"Up ahead. She should be waiting for us, " you informed, one thumb pointing over your shoulder towards the way the steps were leading.

Jen scoffed. "Yeah, right?"

"She knows alone won't do her any good in the trials," you reminded Jen as you offered your hand to pull her up on your feet. "The Road needs us together. It's the only way."

Defeated, she accepted your hand and let you pull her up; surprised by your strength. You definitely did not look that strong...and yet again, you did not look a lot of things if she were to be frank.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Path led you back to the forest, unsure if it was the same place you had started of further down the Road. Everything looked the same, but you did not trail back to question. There was no need.

As you three walked in a line, you could not help but start a conversation. Though the topic was not much to your liking.

"I mean, how did they even meet?" Billy wondered.

"Um, over corpses, I imagine." Jen answered before the duo looked at you.

You sighed. "I am afraid you are asking the wrong witch," you confessed.

"But you were first, right? You knew Agatha before Rio, didn't you?" She asked you next, remembering what Evanora's ghost was saying in the cabin.

Though Jen was still puzzled by that interaction. Evanora hated you, and Jen suspected it was because you had chosen Agatha in the end. But something was telling her there was something more.

Pieces of your puzzle were missing, making it harder to get a good image of who you truly are and what your past is.

"I was," you answered simply, clearly not wishing to continue this discussion.

It was not easy for you either. Your feelings mixed about the topic and you needed time, to finally make a decision about it... to make peace with it.

"You must have really hurt her if her next ex ended up being Death itself."

You took a deep breath at Jen's words. You had chosen not to react so far, simply as a respect to her grief, but even you had limits to your patience.

Billy took notice, and he did not really like how that topic had changed to focus on you and your rather cryptic relationship with Agatha.

And it was not right talking about Agatha behind her back, as if she was not going to show up any time soon.

"Well... I don't care," he joined the conversation. "It simply shows more proof that Agatha has feelings."

His words made you smile faintly, but you hid it from Jen, who you didn't have to look to feel her disagreement rising.

"That was your takeaway?" She scoffed. "I do not understand your loyalty to her. Hers, I understand, but not you. "

"It's not loyalty. It's analysis." Billy quickly defended himself.

"Oh, look who grew up."

"I'm fully aware that Agatha Harkness can never be anything but a coven-less witch."

You did not manage to hide your expression at those words, which seemed to sting you as much as they would Agatha.

Yet before you could ask anything, someone else beat you to it.

"Ouch!" Agatha exclaimed as she came from behind some plans.

Your eyes locked, and you could once again see right through her. You could see that something was odd, something had taken place but you were not sure what.

A part of you told you it had to do with Rio, but you wouldn't put your hand in the fire of it.

One thing was certain, though.

Agatha's mask was back on. Any moments of true humility, humanity, and empathy long gone by now. She had locked them all away once again.

Chapter 38

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 5

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

Eddie’s just dropped his response in the requested copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d looked furtively around the library, trying to see if anyone was paying him an abnormal level of attention.

No one even looks up.

There’s a mousy girl in the corner reading a comic book, some band girl muttering to herself as she frantically pulls books off the shelf, and Nancy Wheeler writing, fast enough that Eddie’s surprised the lead of her pencil doesn’t snap clean off.

Could it be her?

Eddie squints at her, trying to look past her frizzy hair and prissy face to what must be hidden underneath. Before he finds any clarity, she looks up from the page in front of her, already scowling before she meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie startles, damn-near sprinting out of the library, his smoker’s lungs wheezing hard enough to damn-near expel themselves from his lungs.

No way in hell is it Wheeler—she’s way too scary, and besides, no one’s ever accused her of being an athlete. That band girl, maybe? She looked feisty enough to kick ass at organized sports-ball.

The secret’s burning a hole through his heart and he wants, no, needs, to tell someone.

Eddie feels deranged with it, almost manic as he rushes to find someone, anyone, he can talk to. Hell, right now he’d take Hagan if he didn’t think the dude would punch him in the face.

Luckily, he smacks into Gareth before anything gets that dire. The kid’s obviously rushing through the parking lot to catch the bus before it leaves without him, stranding him at the school before the weekend can truly start.

“Dude—”  he stutters out as Eddie latches onto both of his shoulders and begins shaking him about. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gareth smacks him off, and Eddie stumbles back, almost buzzing with the frenetic energy built up from weeks of getting love letters in his locker and not being able to tell a soul. Eddie grabs onto him again and just keeps shaking, lest his soul quiver right out of his body. “I can’t keep it in anymore, man,” Eddie says, and he can tell from the bug-eyed look on the other boy’s face that he’s not picking up what Eddie’s putting down. “I’ve gotten four letters, Gare-Bear, four!”

He enunciates the last word with an even harder shake until Eddie can hear his teeth clack together. Gareth makes an unholy noise, like a cat submerged in bathwater, and damn-near claws Eddie’s face off in his attempts to get away. Eddie ends up standing in the parking lot, still holding the shoulders of Gareth’s flannel up despite there no longer being a body in it.

“And each one is sweeter than the last!” Eddie cries, maliciously dropping the flannel into a puddle.

Gareth squawks, bending down to scoop his outerwear up from the ground and twist it until some of the water sops out of it and back to the pavement from whence it came. He’s not looking at Eddie at all. God, he knew he should have picked Doug.

“So, why are you telling me about it?” Gareth gripes.

Left unspoken, but patently obvious between them, is that Jeff, Eddie’s usual secret keeper, is entirely absent. Eddie twirls one of his own curls, bringing it up to shield the blush that’s no doubt blooming on his face as he admits, “Jeff would make fun of me.”

Besides, Jeff’s been weird all day, eyes darting away from Eddie’s like he’s got some sort of disease that might be catching.

He doesn’t want to talk to Jeff right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Gareth slings his sopping flannel over one shoulder with the beleaguered sigh of a single mother and finally meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Dude,” he says, voice that of someone delivering a deadly blow. “I’m going to make fun of you.”

Eddie can feel himself pouting, does absolutely nothing to try to stop it as he mutters, “knew I should’ve confided in Hagan,” too quietly for Gareth to hear.

“Now, where are these stupid letters?”

Eddie throws his hands up and takes two showily large steps back as he declares, “well, I’m not going to show you now!”

“Oh, Jeff,” Gareth calls, all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie lunges forward to slam his palm over Gareth’s mouth even though Jeff had disappeared from the school long ago. With his hands so close already, he’s hard-pressed to stop himself from wringing Gareth’s scrawny neck.

Before he knows it, Eddie finds himself settled in his room, the letters strewn about Eddie’s unmade bed.

Gareth reads them all; he laughs at all the parts that are sweetest, and despite being born an only child, Eddie can feel himself developing one hell of a Cain instinct. Maybe Cain was actually a cool guy, and Abel drove him to it with his incessant wheedling.

Eddie wouldn’t know; he’s never read the bible.

“Dude, she’s a jock?” Gareth asks, peering down at the letter with a level of glee Eddie’s never seen on the other boy’s face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asks, taking sadistic enjoyment in the way Gareth’s nose wrinkles with disgust. He rips—gently!—the letter out of Gareth’s hands and gathers them all back together, intent to hide them from any more prying eyes.

“I was reading that!”

“Girls can do sports,” Eddie replies snootily, tucking the letters away beneath his pillow. “And besides, there’s always cheerleaders.”

All that does is make Gareth start laughing again. “You think you can bag a cheerleader?”

He raises his hand threateningly, one wrong word from smacking that look off his face, the way Eddie’s dad had always threatened. “Do you want to walk home?” Eddie demands.

Eddie’s doubtful it was the threat that got Gareth to stop laughing—they both know they’ll spend the rest of the evening eating stale cereal and watching whatever’s on TV before falling asleep in Eddie’s small bed—but the silence is still welcome.

It lasts a solid three seconds before Gareth asks, “you’re not afraid it’s all a joke?”

Eddie’s going to kill him.

***

The day’s been long despite Steve, Chrissy, and Jeff all skipping first period. Still, nothing could stop him from taking precious time out of his weekend to pick up any notes Eddie might have written.

It’s becoming normal now, to skulk behind Chrissy through the library as she picks up notes. What’s that saying about the third time being a pattern? And there, tucked reverently into a copy of Romeo and Juliet—Chrissy’s idea, not his—is an envelope with Secret Admirer written across it in bold, cursive font. Like Eddie’d gone out and gotten a quill and ink pot just for the occasion.

The ink’s so black, it still looks wet, but when Steve caresses the letters, they don’t even smudge. They both stare down at it where it’s still clutched between Chrissy’s fingers. Chrissy, ever the good friend, waits for his next move.

“Want to come over?” he asks, tired of impersonal whispers in quiet libraries. He wants a girl’s night, the way he and Carol used to before she’d started dating Tommy and everything had gotten so stilted. “I can paint your nails.”

Chrissy doesn’t even hesitate. She’s beaming as she puts the envelope carefully into her book bag, grabs his arm, and drags him out of the room.

She doggedly follows his car all the way home to his big empty house, her headlights beaming light and warmth straight into his heart.

The porch light’s on in front of his house, a beacon leading him home from his rapidly darkening driveway. He always leaves it on, something about its cheerful light making his dark house seem more welcoming, even more so now that he’s got a friend parking her car right behind his.

He’s glad not to get run out of town, but more than that, he’s grateful that it was all just a mistake, that he doesn’t need to let another friendship fizzle out into nothing.

“Are your parents home?” she asks as she bounces out of her car and up to his side.

“Almost never,” Steve replies, not turning back to her, unwilling to see the expression on her face as he leads her to the front door and ushers her inside once it’s unlocked. 

He slides his shoes off, and she copies his movements before following him up the stairs. They settle onto his bed, and he’s tempted to make a wise-crack about what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do in beds, but he’s a little afraid she might slap him, so all he says is, “did you bring it?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “of course I brought it.”

She’s already made herself comfortable laying on her stomach, but she dutifully reaches toward the ground to rifle through her bag and pull the envelope that’s been burning a hole in it free. Steve descends on it like a drowning man on land.

He lays on his stomach beside her, tempted to kick his feet and twirl his hair as he slots his finger into the envelope and opens it with the precision born from years of practice opening his parents’ mail.

It’s only as he pulls the tab open that he notices it’s not an envelope at all. Eddie had cleverly folded the note he’d written into the shape of an envelope, tucking the tab into it to keep it closed. He smooths the creases out and devours the words.

       Secret Admirer,

       I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more.

       Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long.

       I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself.

       Yours,

       Eddie

And there, tucked behind the envelope is a notecard, Eddie’s usual sloppy handwriting covering it with that same, black ink. But he’s circled his answers in red, and added little numbers next to some of them.

       ||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

Steve flips it over and finds more little numbers in red, each with a corresponding blurb.

       1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff.

       2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner.

       3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3

       4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that?

       5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious.

       6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday.

       7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better.

       8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?)

       9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve smiles down at the card and all the secrets it holds.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Chrissy says.

Steve, for the first time, gets the inexplicable urge to hide Eddie’s words behind his hands. He doesn’t because that would be insane, and also she’s already seen it. So, all he says is, “help me respond?”

She does.

       Eddie —

       I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough.

       I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+.

       I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy.

       Yours, Always,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Chrissy tears up at the bit about his best friend, but luckily doesn’t comment, just keeps spinning his yarn into gold. She dutifully re-writes the answer card as well, letting Steve circle his own answers with her pretty pink pen as she peers over her shoulder.

“It’s kind of funny how many of your answers are opposites,” Chrissy says, once they’re done.

Steve frowns, staring between both cards. She’s right; between all the questions, they’ve got three in common: they both chose holding hands over first kisses, drive-ins over movie theaters, and cuddling over dancing.

It’s not much to build a relationship on.

“Yeah, funny,” Steve replies, trying for chill but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, sounding hesitant herself now. “None of that matters, you know that right?”

Steve doesn’t respond; he’s too busy looking between each filled-out card, debating whether changing some of his answers might be for the best.

As if she can sense his thoughts, Chrissy snatches them both from his hands.

“Hey!”

He goes to snatch them back, but she’s pushed them behind her, glare fierce enough to give him pause. “None of that matters,” she says, voice firm. “You really think whether you like gold or silver better is a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

She’s right, that’s not what’s doomed this whole thing before it’s even started—it’s Steve. Steve, who’s a boy, and a jock, and not very bright.

He’s always the problem.

“You hear me, Steve?” Chrissy asks. She’s leaning toward him now, eyes blazing with a conviction he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re perfect just the way you are, okay?”

His throat’s all clogged up so he just nods, looking down at her hands where they’re clutching tightly enough to his comforter that the beds of her nails turn pink, and her knuckles bleach white.

She’s got thin, pretty fingers, and jagged nails. These are the hands that can write letters Eddie will want to read; it’s got nothing to do with silver, or gold, or any of that shit.

It’s Steve.

“Did you really want to paint my nails?” Chrissy asks, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes.

Steve’s up off the bed in an instant, ready for the distraction she’s handed him. He rifles around in the bathroom and comes back with a crate of nail polish which he immediately shoves into her chest with enough gusto that she makes a little oof! noise.

“Pick your poison,” Steve says, watching as her eyes grow wider with every new color she picks up.

“You have so many,” she breathes, touching the small glass bottles almost reverently before picking up a pale pink color that suits her. “What about this one?”

She looks so unsure, like his opinion on her choice of nail polish is the most important thing in the world. Steve’s heart squeezes beneath his ribcage. “‘course, Chris.”

He settles onto the bed, legs criss-crossed. He waits for Chrissy to match his pose before grabbing her hand. She curls her fingers into a fist, a breath shuddering out of her before she forces her hand back open.

Steve doesn’t comment on the ragged state her nails are in. He just grabs a nail file from the crate and smooths them down as best he can. He buffs her nails out before finally grabbing her chosen color and gives the bottle a shake.

The first coat goes on quick, Chrissy watching each flick of the brush like it’s fascinating.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, sounding shocked.

Steve presses her hands down on the bed to keep them still as the first coat dries. “Thanks,” he replies, still not looking up at her. “I used to do Carol’s like every week.”

There’s a silence in the room now that feels one step to the left of stilted. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he picks up her hand and blows on the nails like that will speed anything up at all.

“Can I do yours next?”

At that, Steve finally looks up from Chrissy’s nails to meet her eyes. She’s biting her lip, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks.

No one’s ever painted his nails before, not even Carol. But in the face of Chrissy’s earnest, nervous expression, he can’t say no.

That’s how he finds himself at school on Monday with bright yellow nail polish painted on each of his fingers, the edges already chipped from where he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it.

No one says a thing.

PART 6

[4only1]

hello, could you please write something about park somi and (y/n) being Sisters, And Shingen choose (y/n) over somi and the others because of that somi hates her sister and became jealous of her, please it's my first time asking :( (sorry for my bad English)

Only

Yamazaki Shingen x Reader Masterlist

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

You had been selected to represent your family. To restore pride and your family's name. The only problem, your sister wanted to be the one to do it. The only solution provided was for both daughters to go off to the Yamazaki clan in hopes of becoming the wife.

It wasn't a bad idea, it provided the clan double the chance of one of their own securing the seat as wife of Yamazaki Shingen. To them, it didn't matter weather Park Somi or Park (y/n) became the wife, they just needed one of you to make the man yours.

In some way, you both succeeded. Your sister had fallen pregnant and given birth to the heir, the child with reverse eyes. The one to become the legal wife of the head of the Yamazaki clan, restoring honour to your clan. However, it didn't help that she fell in love with the now lethargic man. The man who never paid her any attention, ignored her, but always looked at you longingly. Wishing you were the one taking care of him.

He prefered you, in every single way. When you and Somi had first arrived, he was taken with your beauty and your personality. Other women knew to keep themselves meek, smaller, hidden. You were sharp, knew when to speak and what to say. Your words left an impact that he couldn't forget after you had left.

“I am only here to provide for my clan. Any other reason for us to meet is pointless.”

You spoke firmly, not a hint of fear in your voice. As you walked away, he noted your sister scolding you as the doors closed. Shingen chuckled, excited for the opportunity to learn more about you. What was your favourite food, favourite season, hobbies? He needed to know it all. From then on, he courted you, some how running into you every day.

It worked, he managed to make you open up, see his charming and charismatic side. He always called for you to stay by his side. You took walks together, holding onto his hand, him caressing your hair and you two basked in the sun together. He prefered you to all the other women in the harem. This favouritism came with a cost however, severing the already strained relationship you had with your sister.

You never talked to her anymore, she ignored all forms of communication from you, verbal and written. Her shunning of you encouraged other women to do the same. They already disliked your low status compared to them, you being hated by your sister just made them complain about how truly awful you must be. 

If it wasn't for Shingen choosing you, the harassment would have probably become physical. You could only be thankful it was only verbal, you could handle it. You held your head high and walked around with no shame, whether Shingen was by your side or not. 

Things changed when he was defeated by Gapryoung Kim. The once confident, powerful man, became depressed, but his preference for you never dwindled. Not even when your sister gave birth to the heir, becoming his legal wife. He always chose you over her, the thread snapped and in a fit of desperation, Somi wanted you gone. You and your child had to go.

It was in the dead of a winter night, many months since you had given birth, that your sister convinced you to flee. How she did it, nobody quite knows, but her words managed to convince you that if you stayed, your child would die. You packed very little, and when morning came, nobody could find you.

An anger stirred in the lethargic man, how dare you leave him. When your sister was confronted, she played innocent, but he knew better, he knew she had something to do with it. He couldn’t be bothered to punish her, he didn’t truly have any proof. You vanished, where to? Nobody knows, but you took him with you. He was always yours, and you were always his. In his eyes, she wasn't his wife, you were.

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

Slowly I'm putting out all the requests people have sent me. I thank people for being patient, I've been pretty busy but writing requests are fun. Idk what it is but everytime I add a photo of this man the quality goes down the drain (I give up).

Probably some gramatical errors present (oh well). Next request will come out next week. I also don't understand why half of them are for this man (y'all crazy).

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖

Chapter one:

Summary: Y/N meets Nabi.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Good morning, welcome to Megaversé Café. I'm Y/n. How can I help you today?” Y/n asked politely, her tone warm as she greeted the man standing in front of her. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual—he was undeniably handsome. His striking black hair was perfectly styled, and his outfit was sharp and carefully put together. His presence was commanding, like he carried a weight of authority wherever he went.

Y/n’s omega instincts tingled at the powerful aura he radiated, and when his scent hit her nose, it made her pulse quicken. It was the scent of an Alpha, one that could make any omega instinctively feel both drawn to him and slightly intimidated. She swallowed, trying to remain composed, but she couldn’t deny how her body subtly reacted to him, her instincts urging her to be cautious yet respectful.

“Umm… hello,” he spoke softly, his voice calm yet full of purpose. “I heard you run a daycare here? Is that true?” He flashed a polite smile, his eyes briefly roving over Y/n’s face. She was quite beautiful, he noticed, though something about her also felt… different. There was a vulnerability there, one that intrigued him.

“Oh right, yes, we do, sir,” Y/n answered, her smile widening as she relaxed a little. “Are you interested in the program?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “My mates and I are looking to enroll our pups.” He paused, searching her face for any signs of judgment or surprise. “Is that possible?”

“Of course, sir,” Y/n said eagerly. “You’re in the right place. If you just follow me, I can introduce you to the person in charge of that area.” She gestured toward the door on the opposite side of the counter.

The man, who introduced himself as Chan, gave a small nod of approval and followed her closely. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how attentive he was to his surroundings, his eyes sharp and calculating, like he was weighing every detail.

They made their way down a hallway that led to a spacious daycare center, and as Chan entered, he was immediately impressed. The room was bright and inviting, filled with colorful toys, and it felt like the perfect environment for children. He nodded to himself, already picturing his pups playing in this space.

"So," she began, trying to make small talk to ease her nerves. "Do you have any specific requirements for the pups? Anything you'd like to know about our program?"

"No, just... a safe environment," he replied thoughtfully. His gaze swept the hallway as they passed, and Y/n couldn't help but feel his eyes on her, studying her closely. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he continued. "We just want them to be well taken care of."

She pushed open the door to the office, where a young woman with short, spiky hair was typing away at her laptop.

“Right, okay, this is Yenji. She’ll be able to help you with everything,” Y/n introduced him to the woman sitting behind the reception desk.

“Okay, thank you,” Chan said, squinting a little, trying to recall Y/n’s name. “I’m sorry, could you remind me of your name again?”

“Y/n,” she replied quickly with a soft smile. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Chan nodded, but as he turned to face Yenji, something about Y/n lingered in his thoughts. Her scent, her movements… his alpha side immediately picked up that she was an omega. It wasn’t just her scent; it was the way she carried herself, the soft yet polite mannerism. There was no mistaking it.

“Thank you once again, have a good day,” Chan said, offering a polite smile. He waved goodbye, and Y/n returned the gesture, heading back toward the counter.

As she walked away, Chan’s curiosity got the better of him. He turned to Yenji. “Is she an omega?” His voice was low, careful not to make it sound like an interrogation, but the question hung in the air.

Yenji chuckled softly, looking up from her laptop. “We normally can’t disclose that kind of information, sir…” she trailed off, her tone turning conspiratorial. “But yes, she is.”

“Ah, I see,” Chan murmured, nodding in understanding. He felt a small pang of something he couldn’t quite identify at the thought, but he quickly pushed it away.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Yenji said, waving him off. “You’re not the first to ask about her. She’s new around here, and she definitely has an effect on Alphas. But she’s a sweetheart, really.”

“Hmm…” Chan hummed thoughtfully. He was still trying to figure her out, but that would have to wait.

Yenji smiled, shifting gears back to business. “Now, shall we get started?” She gestured toward the chair across from her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Yenji looked up from her laptop, her expression polite but curious. "How can I help you today?"

Chan smiled warmly at her. "I heard you run a daycare for pups. My mates and I were hoping to enroll them."

Yenji raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Of course, we can help you with that. What are their names and ages?"

Just then Nabi’s stroller had just rolled in, and it was Felix, Chan’s mate, who was rushing in with the child.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" Felix's voice echoed as he hurried into the office, his face flushed with stress. "Nabi was having a meltdown, and the twins got into a fight. It’s been a whole morning!"

Chan's expression softened as he stepped forward to help Felix with the stroller. "It’s okay, don’t worry about it." He gently took the baby bag from Felix’s arms, giving him a smile. "You’re here now. That’s what matters."

Felix sighed in relief, looking over at Yenji. "I’m so sorry we’re late. I hope this doesn’t cause too much trouble."

Yenji waved off his concern, giving him a reassuring smile. "Not at all! We were just going over some details."

Chan and felix sat back down, and the conversation shifted to the practicalities of daycare for their pups. Chan, always a man of few words, laid out the details clearly but Felix was the one doing most of the talking.

“We have seven pups in total,” Felix began, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his little ones. “They haven’t presented yet, so for now they’re just regular pups. We were hoping you could take care of them during the day while we run the pack’s village.”

Felix looked at Yenji with a sheepish smile. “Did you tell her who we are?”

“No,” Chan said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve been trying to keep it low-key, but it’s hard with how well-known our pack is.”

Felix sighed, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised. Some places don’t care who we are. We’ve had a hard time finding a daycare that’ll take this many pups.”

Yenji’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way. People refuse you? I don’t get it.”

Felix ran his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated. “They don’t know who we are half the time, and even if they do, we’re still rejected. But we’re glad you can help us.”

Yenji blinked, looking up from her notes. “Wait, a village?”

“Yeah, our pack runs a whole village. We’re the SKZ pack.”

“Wait, the SKZ pack?” Yenji gasped, dropping her pen in surprise. Her eyes widened as she looked from Chan to Felix. “I didn’t realize—wow, it’s such an honor to meet you! I’ve heard so much about your pack.”

Chan chuckled softly, clearly accustomed to the reactions his pack’s name stirred. “Yes, that’s us,” he said with a smirk, though his tone remained humble. “But we’re just a regular family. No need for all the fanfare.”

Yenji couldn’t help but smile. “Right, right,” she said, trying to gather herself. “So, about the pups. How old are they?”

Chan ran through the details smoothly. “Eunji is the oldest, seven years old. Then there’s Joon, who’s also seven but a few months younger. The twins, Aera and Hwan, are six. Tae will turn six soon. Chul is four, and Nabi just turned one last month.”

Yenji scribbled down the information, noting every detail. “Okay, and do they have any dietary requirements?”

“Not really. Their other mum is very strict about their diets, but they’re mostly fine with whatever,” Felix said, though he smiled fondly at the thought of his mate’s fussing over their pups’ food. “They’re picky, but nothing unusual.”

“Alright,” Yenji nodded. “Any illnesses we should know about?”

“Not at all,” Felix replied, thinking for a moment. “Well, Joon did break his arm last week playing in the backyard, but it’s nothing serious.”

“A broken arm?” Yenji raised an eyebrow, noting it down. “Okay, does he need any ongoing medication?”

"Hmm…" Felix thought for a moment. "Just a few things. Some painkillers here and there, and… what’s it called, babe?" He turned to the man.

"Intranasal and dietary supplements," Chan answered, smiling a little sheepishly.

"Right," Felix nodded. "That’s about it. Other than that, they’re pretty healthy."

Yenji gave them an understanding look, eager to help in any way she could. "No problem. We can definitely accommodate that."

"Is there anything specific you’d like to ask about the kids? Diapers, snacks, or dietary restrictions?" Felix asked.

Yenji spoke up. "Actually, does Nabi wear diapers?"

"Yes, she does," Felix confirmed, Yenji started jotting something down. "But we always pack extra in her bag. No offense, but I’m a little bit of a control freak when it comes to what diapers she wears. I also prefer if the kids don’t borrow clothes from other children."

"That’s totally understandable," Yenji nodded, not in the least offended. "We’ll make sure to accommodate that. Actually, I’ll reserve some lockers for you to store extra clothes. Just in case they spill something or need a change."

Felix seemed to relax a little at that. "I appreciate it," he said, looking over at Chan who gave him a reassuring nod.

"I have a question," Chan spoke up, still eyeing the room. "What does their schedule look like? I’m also a little concerned about the cafe being so close by… Anyone can just walk in, right?"

Yenji shook her head immediately. "No need to worry about that at all, sir." She smiled warmly, clearly proud of their security measures. "This is just the front office. I’ll take you to the back where the daycare rooms are, and you’ll see—no one gets in without their parent cards."

"Parent cards?" Chan’s brow furrowed, clearly confused.

"Yes, every parent has to have one to get through the door," Yenji explained, gesturing toward a scanner by the back door. "You just swipe your card, and then the system uses facial recognition to verify your identity. You’ll also need to sign in whenever you pick up or drop off your pups."

Felix raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Okay, but let’s say I lose my card, and someone tries to use it. What happens then?"

Yenji chuckled lightly. "They wouldn’t get through because of the facial recognition system, and our security personnel would definitely stop anyone who wasn’t familiar with the kids. We take safety very seriously here."

Felix purred, clearly satisfied with that answer. "Hm, I like this place already."

"I’m glad to hear that," Yenji replied with a smile. She continued, "As for the kids' schedules, it really depends on the day. Most days, they’ll do arts and crafts, reading, and even digital games. The older ones have structured activities like sports, while the younger ones do more normal activities like sensory play or free time."

"Can we get a copy of their schedule?" Felix asked, clearly curious.

"Of course," Yenji said, scribbling down a few notes before handing Felix a sheet of paper. "Also, we need to know who will be picking up the kids. We’ll get cards made for those individuals as well."

Chan spoke up again, organizing the details. "It’ll mostly be the moms—Han and Felix—but some days, Lee Know and Hyunjin might need to pick them up. So, we’d need cards for all eight contacts."

"Eight?" Yenji blinked in surprise.

"Yes, our schedule is complicated. Trust me, it’s easier this way," Chan chuckled.

The conversation shifted to timing after. "Daycare officially runs from 6 a.m. to 12 p.m., but if that doesn’t work for you, we can shift it to 9 a.m. to 3 p.m."

Felix quickly jumped in. "Oh, hyung, can we do the 9 to 3 shift instead? It’ll make it easier for you guys to work in the afternoon, right?"

Chan nodded, thinking it over. "Yeah, I think we’ll go with that."

Yenji jotted down the change. "Got it! We’ll adjust that for you."

As the meeting continued, Felix turned to Yenji with a slight smile. "So, who exactly is in charge of the kids? We just want to make sure they’ll be in good hands."

Yenji smiled back. "Only omegas are in charge of the kids here. We don’t hire alphas, except for security."

Felix let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God. I don’t trust any alphas with my kids unless I’m around."

Yenji smiled, understanding the concern. "I’m a beta, by the way. We’ve got a few of us, but we’re all trained extensively. Your pups will be in great hands."

Felix’s shoulders relaxed at that. "I’m happy to hear that."

"And we have a nurse on staff at all times," Yenji added. "You’ll just need to fill out a medical form. The fee for each pup is 279,640 won."

"Wait, what?" Chan gasped dramatically, earning a playful slap from Felix.

"Hyung, stop it," Felix giggled, swatting him playfully.

Chan pouted. "You omegas are going to make me run broke."

Yenji laughed at their playful exchange. "It gets worse, I’m afraid," she teased.

"Oh God," Chan groaned. "How much more?"

"We can discuss the fees later," Yenji said with a chuckle. "First, let’s finish the campus tour."

Chan grinned. "We’re not buying a new car."

Felix faked a pout. "But baby…"

"Absolutely not unless you’re getting it out of Changbin or I.N's account," Chan teased, looking at Yenji, who couldn’t help but smile at the dynamics of the pack.

Finally, it was time to wrap up the meeting and head for the campus tour. "We can leave Nabi in the stroller while Y/n watches her," Yenji suggested, getting up from the desk. "Don’t worry, she’ll be safe."

Felix’s omega instincts immediately protested. "Uh... Alright, that’s fine," he said reluctantly, but Yenji noticed the concern in his eyes. He didn’t know her, but he didn’t want to leave Nabi with anyone else.

Yenji quickly excused herself to grab Y/n, who was just outside the office. "Do you need me to remove my scent patches?" Y/n asked politely when she entered the room.

"Can you?" Felix asked, his voice soft but firm. "I just don’t want her to get fussy. And please, don’t scent her. I don’t feel comfortable with that."

Y/n gave him an understanding nod. "Of course, I’ll make sure to be gentle with her."

As Chan slowly handed Nabi over to Y/n, he sighed. "God, she’s getting heavy."

"Well, you know how Changbin gets about skinny pups," Felix teased as he adjusted the baby bag.

Y/n carefully cradled Nabi, the little pup settling back to sleep with a small sigh.

Chan, who had been watching all this with a bemused expression, let out a loud huff. "Can we hurry this up? I’ve got a studio session in an hour."

Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Let’s go."

"Shall we?" Yenji asked, gesturing toward the hallway. "Follow me, I’ll show you where the daycare rooms are. This area is just for the front office, so it’s not where the kids will be spending their time."

Chan and Felix exchanged a look before following Yenji down the hall, their footsteps echoing in the quiet building. The daycare was spacious, with colorful walls and a number of rooms dedicated to various age groups. As they passed a playroom, Chan’s eyes flickered toward it, noticing the well-organized space and the ample toys.

"This place is bigger than I expected," Felix commented, clearly impressed by the setup. "It seems really well organized."

"We take pride in our facilities," Yenji said with a small smile, leading them into the main area. "We’ve got separate rooms for different age groups."

"Sounds like it’s well-thought-out," Chan said, nodding approvingly.

They made their way through the different sections of the daycare, which were full of age-appropriate toys and even small rest areas. There was a quiet, calming atmosphere to the place, and the alphas were reassured that their pups would be safe here. The walls were decorated with happy drawings from other pups, and each room had its own dedicated staff, all of whom were betas or omegas—never alphas. The care here was personal, and it was clear that the staff was well-trained and genuinely cared about the pups.

As they returned to the office, Y/n was sitting on one of the office sofas, rocking the baby gently with one hand while cooing softly at Nabi, who was still tucked under a light blanket.

"Oh, you sweet little thing," Y/n whispered, a soft smile on her face. The little pup stirred slightly but stayed asleep, her small hands curling into tiny fists as she nuzzled deeper into the warmth of her blanket. Y/n’s omega instincts kicked in as she carefully and gently rocked her, murmuring quiet words of comfort. It was almost like an instinct, this bond that formed between omegas and pups. She couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for the baby in her arms.

Felix and Chan returned, clearly pleased with the daycare’s setup. Chan took one look at the sleeping Nabi in Y/n’s arms and smiled.

"Looks like she likes you," Felix commented softly, walking over to gently lift Nabi out of Y/n’s arms.

Nabi woke up with a small whimper but settled back when she saw Felix, her mother. "I think she really likes you, Y/n," Felix added, chuckling softly as he took his daughter into his arms. "She’s a little attached."

Y/n smiled warmly, her heart fluttering. "She’s just precious," she cooed, watching as Felix carefully adjusted her in his arms.

“She’s so cute, right?”

Y/n smiled at the baby in her arms. “She’s adorable.”

Felix’s voice softened as he chuckled. “She takes after I.N, I think.”

"It was an absolute pleasure working with you both," Yenji said, excited that such a well-known pack would be joining their daycare.

"I’ll be seeing you on Monday then," Y/n added, her smile warm but slightly bittersweet.

"Yes you will," Chan responded pulling out his phone to check a message.

After completing the final bits of paperwork, Chan, Felix, and Yenji exchanged a few more pleasantries, clearly satisfied with their decision to enroll their pups here.

As Chan, who had been watching all this with an amused smile, stood up, he gave them a friendly wave. "Have a good day, guys!" His voice carried a light tone, though his eyes flickered a deep red for just a second.

Y/n blinked in surprise at the brief flash of red in Chan's eyes. It wasn’t something she saw often, but the flicker was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

Chan was more focused on the fact that Y/n’s scent was undeniably strong now. His alpha instincts reacted involuntarily, stirring a sharp, deep craving within him. He quickly averted his gaze, trying to control the pull he felt.

Damn, he thought, swallowing hard. Her scent is so strong…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: This was kinda messy but i just wanted to get the series a start so bare with me.

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

@cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @memersanonymous

@skz-stay13 @seungminsbest @hogwartslife64 @sinfulfic @hyunnesblog

@maisyyyyyy @cluelessred3 @leezanetheofficial @cocofia143 @lemonn015

@kkamismom12 @mei0packet @igetcarriedawaywithyou @hyuneyeon

taglist: closed :(

[motherismotheringggg]

friends who know

summary: you and cooper are best frjends but when he comes to your apartment after a night out and failed date for you, he tells you how he really feels

type: fem! reader x cooper koch

tags/warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (f! receiving)

author’s note: there’s a shortage of cooper fic and we MUST fix this; i think i only saw this once but in case there’s a larger concern about writing cooper in hetero sex scenarios i want to say 1.) all my fics are based in alternate universes 2.) its not that deep 3.) with cooper i try to keep his sexuality open in all my fics

word count: 4482

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

The hum of the city outside was barely audible through the thick walls of the apartment, the occasional honk of a car or distant voice muffled by the calm inside. Cooper’s steps wobbled slightly as he made his way to the door, the alcohol coursing through his veins making everything feel heavier than usual.

Each movement seemed slower than usual as if the world was spinning just a little too fast for him to keep up. He had intended to just let himself into his friend’s apartment. Since she lived closer to the bar he was coming from and she should still be on her date, they had planned for Cooper to crash at her place if he didn’t make it home. But as he fumbled with his key in the lock, his vision blurry from the alcohol, he froze when the door swung open on its own.

“It took you ridiculously long to get that, I had to help you,” you teased with a playful smirk, your voice light as you opened the door to reveal your tipsy friend. Your makeup and hair were still done from the night out. You’d swapped your date outfit for something more comfortable—a big t-shirt that fell loosely over your frame and a pair of shorts, casual and relaxed for the evening ahead.

Cooper flashed a toothy grin, his eyes squinting slightly, the kind of grin that makes his whole face light up and his mouth stretch wide. His voice was heavy with tipsiness, slurring just a little, and his gaze was unfocused like he couldn’t quite center on anything. “Oh shit, I did not expect you to be home!” he chuckled, his voice warm but thick with the alcohol.

You raised an eyebrow, looking him over with amusement. "Well I do live here," you teased, stepping aside to let him stumble past. “I texted you like 30 minutes ago saying I got back early.” You could tell by the way he was swaying slightly that he had more than just a few drinks, but despite his drunken state, something was endearing about the way he carried himself—like his carefree nature was still intact even in this slightly hazy moment.

"I can’t even tell you if I have my phone with me," he scoffed, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. But despite his wobbly state, there was a lightness to his words, a mischief in his tone that was unmistakable. His lips curled into a smile, one that reached his eyes most charmingly. As he tried to steady himself, you took a step back, allowing him into the apartment.

He made his way to the couch and crashed into the cushions with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the soft fabric like he was just too tired to fight it. There was something about him in this state, so relaxed, that made him look even more appealing, his usual confident energy replaced with a kind of laid-back vulnerability.

His messy, tousled curls fell in loose strands over his forehead, a few bits caught in his eyes as he leaned his head back. He let out a content sigh, eyes half-lidded but still looking at you with that lazy smile. His long arms rested casually on either side, his broad forearms stretching across the armrests as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The muscles in his arms were defined even through the fabric of his shirt, and the way he moved—slow, relaxed—gave off an air of lazy strength like he could melt into any space and make it his own. He was a man who commanded attention without even trying, and now, sprawled on your couch, he looked like he was taking up all the space in the room without even realizing it.

You came from the kitchen with a bottle of water in hand, twisting off the cap as you walked into the living room. Your phone was still clutched between your fingers, but you focused on Cooper first. "I ordered us a pizza, but it’s gonna take a while," you said, offering him the bottle.

You ran your hands through his hair in a comforting manner as he took the bottle. He held your hand steady on his head while taking deep gulps of water that brought him back to life. He opened his eyes and his gaze met yours. You always felt very protective of him but even in this moment, where you were taking care of him, you felt safe.

“No worries, I’ll just raid your kitchen if I need to,” Cooper joked with a grin that was goofy but still disarmingly charming. His eyes tracked your every move from behind the couch and him to plopping down next to him on the couch, a slight tilt to his head like he was trying to piece together the picture of the night. His eyes focused on you, still too tipsy to hide his curiosity, though it was endearing more than anything.

There was a comfortable silence in your apartment. You scrolled on your phone and Cooper continued to drink his water. His gulps being the only noise in the room aside from the occasional notification vibration from your phone. Cooper began to sit up and look in your direction, his eyes narrowed slightly, "What happened to your hot date?" he asked, his voice low and heavy with the alcohol, but the hint of genuine interest was there.

You scoffed, leaning back into the couch with a small huff of frustration. "Hot date?" you repeated, rolling your eyes as you took a drink of your own water you had on the coffee table "It was a hot fucking mess.”

Cooper’s eyes widened a bit as he blinked, clearly processing what you’d said. "A mess? Alright, spill!" He tapped his legs, gesturing for you to put your feet up on him. His words came out a little slower, laced with curiosity and softened by the slur of someone who’d had a few drinks. But even through the haze, there was a genuine concern behind his playful tone, a real interest in knowing exactly what had gone wrong.

You shook your head, feeling a mixture of irritation and amusement at how easily your frustration was slipping into your words. "God, he was so obnoxious," you began, putting your drink down to properly explain, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. "Loud, pushy, and worse of all…he was terrible at eating me out”

Cooper leaned in even more curious than before, you let out a sharp exhale, the frustration of the night slipping out with every word. "We went to his place and he went down on me and it was so …bad. He had no direction, no idea where my clit was and he had the nerve to keep asking me if I was close to finishing.”

Cooper let out a laugh, one that he immediately regretted, but it bubbled up before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it. “I just can’t believe he was that bad,” he said, his voice dripping with a mix of disbelief and amusement. He shook his head as if trying to wrap his mind around it, still finding it hard to believe. “Honestly, it sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

Then, with a slightly lopsided grin, his tone lightened, and he added, “You deserve a guy who's gonna treat you and eat you.” He said it with a chuckle, but as the words left his mouth, a flicker of something serious flashed in his eyes, like he hadn’t quite meant to let that much slip out. He was drunk enough for it to come out in jest, but his gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than it should have, his protective nature subtly making the comment feel heavier than the casual joke implied.

The mix of joking and sincerity hung in the air, and for a moment, the playful edge of his voice didn’t quite match the intensity in his eyes. He was too far gone to realize how true that statement felt, how much he actually meant it.

He opened his arms, gesturing for you to lean in, and you didn’t hesitate. Letting yourself settle against him, you felt his warmth and the soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat. The scent of his cologne, mixed with a hint of the whiskey he’d had earlier, wrapped around you, making the room feel a little smaller, a little more intimate.

Cooper’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, and he let out a low chuckle. “We’ve shared so many hookup stories over the year and I remember a lot. His head dipped closer to yours, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I remember every little thing you said you like,” he admitted, his tone soft but sure. “I mean… I bet I could get you off, no problem.” The confidence in his voice was clear, even if he was too far gone to fully realize the weight of what he was saying.

He shifted slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that caught you off guard, his usual playful edge softened by something deeper. His fingers brushed lightly over your arm, tracing slow, absentminded patterns as if testing the waters, letting you feel his warmth through the gentle, almost reverent touch. “I’d want to,” he murmured as if the thought had just come to him. “I’d want to do it right… make you feel good.”

His words lingered, heavy with intention, his face hovering close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about what it would be like to hook up with Cooper. He’d always had this effortless charm, and he loved to talk up his own skills, claiming he could leave anyone breathless. He had a way of paying attention, too—he’d often talk about how he could read the other person’s body, letting them lead while he responded, always focused on making them feel good. The idea had crossed your mind more than once, but you’d always brushed it off. Cooper was a friend, and here he was, drunk and vulnerable.

Your hand came up to gently caress his face, thumb grazing along his cheek as you murmured, "You’re drunk," your lips curling into a teasing smirk.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smirk of his own. "I might be," he admitted, his voice a lazy drawl, "but I know you’ve thought about it."

He leaned back on the couch, eyes closed, that self-assured grin still tugging at his lips, and for a moment, you just watched him, the silence between you loaded with unspoken possibilities. You could feel the tension building, lingering in the space between you like an electric charge, neither of you moving, neither of you saying anything more. The only sound was the faint hum of the city outside, and the way he lay there—so casually, so confidently—only heightened the pull.

The knock at the door broke the tension, snapping you both back to reality. Flushing slightly, you got up to answer, grateful for the interruption yet already wondering what might have happened if it hadn’t come just then. When the pizza arrived, you both dove in, and as you took those first bites, the charged atmosphere seemed to ease. With each slice, the playful banter returned, and the lingering tension faded, replaced by the easy, familiar vibe that always felt natural between you.

By the time the food was gone, a warm, sleepy calm had settled in. You suggested getting ready for bed, and Cooper agreed with a lazy nod, stumbling off to the bathroom for a shower, hoping to shake off the haze of the night.

———

You were scrolling through your phone in bed when you heard the bathroom door creak open. Cooper stepped into the room, towel wrapped low around his waist, damp curls still clinging to his forehead. The soft glow of your dim bedroom lights cast shadows across his broad shoulders, drops of water gleaming on his skin as he moved. You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him, caught off-guard by how good he looked, how real he felt right there in front of you.

His eyes met yours, and you saw the smirk tug at the corners of his lips, that familiar teasing glint in his gaze. "How do you feel?" you asked, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as you could, even though your heart was pounding in your chest.

"Better… sober," he responded with a grin, running a hand through his wet hair, his voice thick with that playful edge you’d come to know well.

He climbed into bed beside you, and the two of you settled into your usual comfortable routine, your bodies instinctively gravitating toward each other. But underneath the familiarity, a different kind of tension lingered—one you couldn’t shake. Every inch of your body was aware of his proximity, your senses heightened by the memory of what had nearly happened earlier. You figured that with how drunk he had been, Cooper had probably forgotten everything he’d said before—everything that had made the air between you so thick with unspoken words.

The silence stretched on, each second feeling longer than the last. But then, Cooper broke it abruptly, his voice low and purposeful.

"So… are we gonna act like you don’t want me to eat your pussy?" he said, smirking as he glanced at you, that familiar cocky confidence back in full force.

You shot up, utterly stunned by his boldness, your eyes wide as your mind scrambled to process what he’d just said. You opened your mouth but couldn’t find the words to respond.

Cooper, noticing your shock, leaned back against the pillows, not missing a beat. "This was bound to happen," he murmured, his tone shifting to something softer but still charged with intent. "I think you’re beautiful, I always have. And I’ve wanted to taste you for as long as I can remember. And at the very least, the very very least… you deserve to cum tonight. `You went through all the trouble of getting ready…"

His words were like a spark, setting off a flood of heat that rushed through you, igniting the tension you’d been holding back. You were still reeling from the bluntness of his words, but now you couldn’t deny what you’d been feeling—the way he made you want him, despite the years of friendship, despite the risk.

Without another word, Cooper moved closer, kissing you slowly at first, his lips pressing against yours with a soft, knowing pressure. Your body reacted instinctively, leaning into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his wet hair, pulling him deeper. He groaned softly into your mouth as his hands wandered, exploring the curve of your body, his touch making you shiver.

He pulled away just enough to murmur, "Get on top of me." The command was quiet but unmistakable, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you, waiting.

You straddled him, the motion slow, deliberate, as you slid your legs over him, settling into his lap. The kiss resumed, deeper now, more frantic, as his hands roamed over your body, tracing the lines of your curves. One of his hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off in one fluid motion. The cool air hit your skin as your lacy bra was exposed, and Cooper let out a low, appreciative hum.

Without missing a beat, his face dropped to your chest, his lips brushing over the curve of your breast before he kissed a trail down toward your cleavage. The sensation of his mouth on you, the warmth of his breath, sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He didn’t waste time, his hands following suit, his fingers sliding along the lace of your bra before he pulled it down with just enough urgency to make you gasp.

His lips found your nipple, and as he kissed and nipped at your skin, your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but arch into him. The combination of his soft kisses and the heat building between you made it clear that neither of you were going to be able to turn back.

He continued to work on her breast, he would switch between and whatever one he wasn’t pleasuring with his teeth and tongue, he would use his fingers to lightly twist and pinch. Every touch. His hands were gentle but firm, making your skin tingle with every touch. What might have gone unnoticed with anyone else felt completely different with Cooper—his touch sending waves of warmth through your body. The simplest graze of his fingers, the way his lips moved with such intent, seemed to awaken a reaction in you that left you utterly breathless, as if every part of you was attuned to Cooper and Cooper alone. The space between you both, once so familiar, now felt charged with something new, something undeniable.

Cooper wrapped one arm around you, gently pulling you closer as he shifted positions. With careful tenderness, he laid you back on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second of the closeness between you. He hovered over you for a moment, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead before he leaned down to kiss you again, deeper this time, his mouth warm and insistent against yours.

His hand trailed down your side, his touch light yet electrifying, as if he could feel the way your body responded to every brush of his fingers. The heat between you seemed to grow, the air around you thick with anticipation. He kissed you with a quiet intensity, his lips moving against yours as if he were memorizing the feel of you, the way you fit perfectly together.

The pressure of his body against yours sent a jolt through you, his solid form pressing down on you in a way that made your heart race even faster. Every inch of his body seemed to fit perfectly against yours as if you were meant to be like this. You wrapped your arms around him, your hands struggling to meet due to the sheer width of his shoulders, the feeling of his body almost overwhelming in the best way possible.

He paused for a moment, hovering above you, his gaze intense and unwavering. His hazel eyes locked with yours, the intensity of his stare sending a shiver down your spine. At that moment, you could see the way he took in every part of you as if memorizing the way you looked beneath him, your chest rising and falling with each breath. To him, you were beautiful, every curve, every inch of you a part of the image he had in his mind. The breathless, shaky exhale that escaped him only amplified the heat between you, the feeling of him exploring your body with his mouth still fresh on your skin.

There was a quiet tension in the air, a hunger that neither of you could ignore. The lust in your eyes matched the hunger in his, mutual desire pulsing between you both. It was as if the world outside of this moment no longer existed, leaving only the undeniable chemistry and the burning need to get closer, to feel more. Every small touch, every lingering kiss, heightened the anticipation, each of you wanting to give and receive more.

Cooper leaned in, his lips crashing against yours once again, this time with a deeper, more fervent passion. His kisses were insistent as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, his hands roaming over your body with increasing urgency. His lips moved from yours, trailing down your jawline to your ear, where he lingered, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

His voice was low, husky with desire, as he whispered in your ear, the words almost a command, "Take them off." The tone was grumbly, yet full of something far more intimate—something that made your pulse quicken. It wasn’t just the words, but the way he said them, as if he knew exactly how to break down the walls between you.

As his lips worked their way down to your neck, nibbling softly, the sensation of his teeth grazing your skin left you breathless. His hands, now urgent, explored your body as though he couldn’t get enough of you. The way he touched you, moved over your skin, ignited a fire deep within. Every caress, every brush of his fingers, made you feel like you were losing control, unraveling under his touch.

You could feel the tension building between you, the weight of your friendship slowly being replaced by something far more electric, far more heated. The way his hands moved, quickly but with purpose, made you feel as if you were being pulled apart, piece by piece. You could no longer hold onto the rational thoughts in your head; everything else faded, and all that mattered was the feeling of his touch, the warmth of his body against yours.

Cooper’s kisses moved lower, his lips soft against your skin, each one sending small waves of heat through your body. His touch was gentle but deliberate, and you could feel your heart race in time with every movement. You could barely catch your breath, each kiss pushing you closer to the edge of something unspoken between you two.

As he hovered just above you, you could see the spark in his eyes, a playful yet serious glint. His gaze met yours, intense, but there was a warmth in it too—a familiarity, a promise that things would change, that they already had. His lips parted slightly as he asked, his voice smooth yet filled with a hint of something darker, “Are you ready for me, gorgeous?”

Your breath caught in your throat, your body trembling with anticipation. You couldn’t find the words to respond, only a nod, your head moving with the rhythm of your pounding heart. The weight of the moment felt heavy, but not in a way that made you want to pull away. It was a feeling that had been building for a long time, a connection that was deepening in ways neither of you had anticipated.

He smiled, and the tension between you only seemed to grow as he moved lower, his kisses now tracing the outline of your thighs. You bit your lip, the sensation both teasing and maddening as he drew closer and then pulled away, leaving you wanting more. The moment stretched out, thick with longing. You could feel every inch of him—the warmth of his breath, the gentle pressure of his lips—as he moved closer but never quite touched where you wanted him.

Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you found yourself instinctively reaching for him, your hands threading through his damp hair. Without thinking, you guided him toward you, a silent plea for him to take that final step. He let out a low chuckle, a sound that vibrated through your chest, and followed your direction, his body responding to yours with the same quiet urgency.

His kisses trailed down your body, leaving a path of warmth as he moved lower, each soft smooch against your skin sending shivers just below the surface. You felt the tension slip from your body, your breath quickening as he took his time, savoring each touch, each kiss. When you finally pulled off your panties, he slid down further, aligning himself with your most sensitive spot.

The first swipe of his tongue over your folds released a moan you hadn’t meant to hold back, all the built-up anticipation unraveling in that one, perfect stroke. Cooper’s tongue moved with a skillful intent, each motion precise and unhurried, as if he was mapping every inch of you. His mouth wrapped around your clit with a tender urgency, his lips creating a gentle, pulsing suction that made your body arch toward him, every movement filled with both calm and passion. Each moan you let out only spurred him on, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady as he continued, building you up slowly, expertly, until the tension inside you swelled to its peak.

Before you knew it, your body was moving instinctively, grinding in perfect rhythm with Cooper’s touch, amplifying every sensation that pulsed through you. Your breaths came in short gasps, your moans barely contained as he held you firmly, guiding you to where he wanted you. "Fuck… Cooper, that feels so good," you breathed, fingers threading through his hair, gripping tightly as he continued. Without pausing, he slid his fingers into you, each movement deliberate and deeply satisfying, his mouth still working at your heat, pushing you toward the edge.

Cooper’s hand found its way to your mouth, the same finger he just used to get you closer to your climax, he put on the edge of your lips. He didn’t even have to ask before you took the finger into your mouth and started sucking. His gaze flicked up briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before he murmured, “That’s a good girl,” the words rolling off his tongue, rough and warm.

Your breaths turned into desperate, shallow gasps, your body arching as Cooper’s grip tightened, holding you exactly where he wanted. You clutched his hair, then your breasts, each touch adding to the intensity building deep within. "Don’t stop, Cooper—right there," you pleaded, voice trembling as he focused right on that sensitive spot, his mouth and fingers working together in perfect rhythm.

The heat built into a fiery pulse radiating through you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. “Cooper, I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, the words spilling out as he gave a low, approving “mhm,” the vibration adding to your pleasure as he continued relentlessly. He reached out, his strong hands clasping yours, grounding you even as your body surrendered completely.

The climax hit you like a wave, crashing over you in a rush of intense sensation. Your thighs clenched around him as your back arched, head thrown back as you cried out his name. Cooper stayed right with you, his mouth and fingers maintaining their pace as you unraveled, every nerve electrified, holding onto his hands as the release poured over you, leaving you breathless and utterly spent.

Cooper pulled back and kissed up your torso, to your neck and then eventually planting a passionate final kiss on your lips. He laid next to you on his side while you were still flat on your back trying to catch your breath. He let out a low laugh watching you trying to gather yourself, “I told you I could get you there”.