#i kept trying ideas and hated all of them and then i started working on two interchangeably and started liking them more and more

[neon-ufo]

Can anybody attest to a perfect description like the ones we used to know? We were younger then. I'd like to think I'm realistic, still I'm never satisfied. Too afraid of what might come along, too uptight to make it mine.

Song for June: All Good People by Good Luck

~~~ In the past months I've been almost haunted by restless thoughts about my identity & how I've treated it. My closest ones all know I'm trans, but it was something I've kept private from most, as I didn't feel like it was anyone's business. I've repressed it, and I've repressed the art that might've come from it in order to keep it private.

But I recently started to come to terms with the fact that being trans is in fact part of my identity. For the longest time I haven't really felt it was, I kinda just transitioned and moved on. To some degree I still feel like it's much less 'important' to me than it seems to many other people here, which makes me feel a bit alienated. However remaining private about it has started to gnaw at me a lot. I wanted to share it. One's views of oneself can change surprisingly a lot with time.

I had a chat with a fellow transmasc friend not too long ago, about how differently we experience our identities, and it moved something in me. I suddenly felt so much awe for the fluidity of gender expression, in a different way than how I've already appreciated it. Like it just hit me that what I considered a mundane existence wasn't all that mundane after all. I'm trans, and it feels good to say it. (:

Predictably, this piece was very hard to draw. Expressing myself in art doesn't come easy to me, and I can't help but wonder if the two issues might be connected at the core. I took photos of my scars to use in this image, for an additional personal touch <:

[belovedcloud]

One Bed

pairing: leon kennedy x fem! agent! reader

✎ synopsis: who knew saving the president's daughter was so tiring? only you and leon knew the treacherous steps towards the hotel room that was supposed to rejuvenate you both. only for him to open the door and to see one bed.

✎ notes: omg hey everyone. it has been months since my last post and thank you so much for the love on 'such a sweetheart'. i needed a hiatus from writing and i hope you guys love this one bed trope! it's not proofread so sorry if there are mistakes but i am way too lazy to read over it all. love you guys.

➤ WC: 5K

➤ CW: you helped leon save ashley, one bed trope duh, touch starved leon, kisses, petnames, cowgirl, tired sex, p in v, unprotected sex, leon cums on you.

Who knew saving the president's daughter would be so exhausting? The whole ordeal was strenuous to your muscles and mental state. A good nights rest was what you needed after the catastrophe you just encountered. Luckily, you were able to squeeze a shower before getting to the hotel. The idea of mud, bodily fluids and blood was too much to handle for any longer than necessary. Though, if it wasn't for Leon - you probably wouldn't be around currently. Being mission partners with him allowed you to understand his perspective on bioweapons and whatnot.

Without a doubt, he hated them. Despised even. This was a common viewpoint, but his hate went far beyond the normal eye.

It was best not to pry. You couldn't class yourselves as friends, just work partners. Agents who fought the living dead and anything else that came in your way. The undead was a sensitive topic to Leon. What could he have went through?

Leon's life was one of pure terror ever since he was victimised to Raccoon City. The first day on the job completely different to others who joined for the first time. Unlocking padlocks were for survival, not for fun. Reading notes left from other officers who already found their fate was disturbing. The scribbles on the paper led him out. To safety he had hoped. No. Safety was not an option that day - his welfare was tarnished every second.

Now being forced into the workforce of the government wasn't any better. Probably even worse. Time and time again Leon would feel the cold metal pressed against his temple, shakily holding the gun to his head. The index finger aching to snap the trigger to blast his brains out. Yet the same reasoning withheld him from doing so. What if another incident like Raccoon City happened in the near future? He was hired to help others - to dispose of the horrors of the world without alarming the population.

Having you as his partner was a struggle and a blessing.

His communicative state from when he was 21 was now gone. A rookie turned agent against his will led him to be colder than others. Leon kept to himself most of the time, here and there giving you a few pointers on how you can effective pop a flash grenade or what to do in a sticky situation. You reflected how he was 6 years ago. A 21 year old who was excited to start at a police department - you were an agent who was motivated to save others. Your actions held such kindness to him. No prying or none of those snickering comments he would get from the other agents at base.

Just peace.

So mentally speaking, he didn't mind having to share a room with you in this crammed hotel. It was a Saturday so it was expected. Though, other patrons would be coming here to have a one night stand or a relaxing time away from their family... you both just needed rest.

Sluggish movements paved their way to the door number, 012. You and him clinging onto your duffel bags silently. It was an awkward silence, a silence that hung below you both as he fumbled with the key card in his hand. Scanning it through to unlock the barrier between you both and the comfort of the beds that laid inside.

Beds. Or... bed?

Your eyes scan the room. Continuously trying to seek out the other bed that should be here. You examine the footing of it, seeing that it's a double bed instead of 2 singles. Great. The dumbfounded look on your face is almost laughable as the situation dawns on you. You were in a room with Leon and it only consisted of one bed for the both of you.

There were a few ways to go about this. You either both sleep in the same bed together or one takes the bed and the other finds another place to rest. Looking around, it appears that the only viable option would be the cracked leather arm chair, resting solo in the corner. Thinking about it, you were willing to give yourself a crick in your neck to save yourself from the embarrassment of sharing the bed with the other agent.

Leon thought otherwise. The brisk movement of the gear belt slung over the armchair with his duffel bag smacked down in the centre. He was tired, over the bullshit that he just fought - he couldn't care less if he had to share a bed.

"Looks like they forgot a bed huh?" He joked sarcastically, stretching his limbs. The strain of his muscles was visible, undoubtably attractive. Leon carried himself enchantingly, you wanted to learn more about him as every second passed. A sigh leaves his throat whilst he sat down on the bed, continuously stretching. The shirt riding up slightly, giving you a chance to avert your eyes to the uncovered skin. His v-line was on show, the dip down soon stopped by the fabric of his cargos. The shirt he was wearing was a tight fit, letting the muscles of his biceps become visible to the naked eye and the shape of his pecs becoming more noticeable the more you looked.

At least you had a bed in the room? That was the only positive you could find from this when removing your gear off your body. Slinging it into the corner of the room alongside your bag. You both are exhausted from the long day, so you were thankful there's at least a bed to share.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick..." His movements are swift, already gripping onto his shirt he reveals his back to you - throwing the shirt on the floor beforehand. Multiple scars are littered faintly around the skin but the more distinguishable thing is his muscles. Leon's toned body calls out to you as his shoulder to waist ratio is insane. A slim waist, broad shoulders, it all speaks to you. You can feel your body speaking back as you look at him a little longer than expected.

Your little fangirling sesh is over when he shuts the bathroom door behind him - you let a breath you didn't know you withheld. Well, all you could do was wait for him to finish his shower before you could have one. The pitter patter of the water hitting the shower floor is heard before it dies down - giving you a mental note that Leon was now cleaning himself. Why are you even thinking about this?

Leon lets out a sigh once the hot water hits his body. An instant relieving feeling flowing through him as he just stands there for a minute. Soaking in the greatness of water before grabbing the washcloth and shower gel nicely provided by the hotel staff. Squeezing the bottle, a dollop of soap smothers the cloth before he runs it across his body.

Humming can be heard whilst he cleanses his body, ensuring to dispose of all the sweat and dirt from their recent mission. Reflecting back on the situation, he started to feel a bit nervous having to share a bed with you tonight. You were pretty, very pretty to him. He mentally scolded himself whilst he ran the cloth down his chest - his mind returning back to you. A soft moan elicited out of his lips made his hand smack his face. Leon wasn't sure why he was feeling this way. Instinctive movements of him washing himself in motion, his fingers manoeuvring the washcloth on autopilot as his mind focused on you. He can't help but think about you some more, remembering your cute smile when you would hand him a cup of coffee at base. Or your simple gestures of making sure he was comfortable and how you reserved yourself around him made his heart skip a beat.

It had been a while since he thought about someone romantically, his job stripping him of any personal life as the thought of the multitude of viruses around the world was increasing each day. But now, deep down... he could feel an attraction to you. Leon wasn't sure if it was sexual or genuine love - it would be too soon to tell. However, this feeling was deep rooted within, his mind wanted to show you love. His heart longing for someone.

A sentiment he had not felt in a while.

Trying to calm his heart down from going into cardiac arrest, giving himself a mental pep talk - trying not to think about you too much. He shuts off the water soon after and grabs the white towel neatly folded on top of the counter cabinet. Rubbing himself dry and wrapping it around his waist - tightening it slightly. He doesn't want an accident to happen.

Your mind shuts off as you hear footsteps in the bathroom. He was out. Okay. Do you look away when he opens the door? Leon doesn't give you time to think as the door creaks open, revealing himself into the main room. His bare chest and hair still damp for show. Jesus Christ. His damped skin looks good in the dim light, as if he had displayed himself just for you. He notices you sitting tensely on the bed, his body approached you. Blue eyes instantly drifting to your body and lingering for a second before he snaps out of it.

"I needed that..." He groans out, sitting beside you. You mentally slap yourself as you snap your thoughts back to the present.

"Yeah I bet, I already had a shower before we got here so I'm alright." Your response is meek, but at least you had something to respond with.

The man next to you raises his eyebrows at you in slight surprise, he wasn't expecting you to have already taken a shower - but by the look of it, you did look super clean compared to him before. Perhaps you had it when he was getting questioned at base for the report of the mission. Leon tries to keep his eyes focused on your face and not your body. "Oh lucky you," he replied with a smirk.

"I couldn't stand all the random liquids on me, it was disgusting." A chuckle leaves you when you remember looking at yourself in the mirror. Gross... but at least you could laugh at yourself for getting in such a mess? "You were subjected to most of the mess to be honest." Leon chortled out, reminiscing on your reaction when you had novistador blood all over you.

Your conversation with him was cut short when you both recalled the situation laid opened to the two of you. One bed, two agents. It seemed childish that you couldn't think the both of you could share a bed - it was just awkward. Really awkward.

"I can take the floor if you want?" The sound of your voice cuts through the silence, Leon replayed the question in his head before shaking his head. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not letting you sleep on this cold ass floor." His eyes averted to the hardwood floor, indicating that your question was out of order.

"You want to share the bed then?" This question to Leon was better, he really didn't mind another person next to him whilst he slept. Recalling past moments, he's slept through worse. "We're both adults here. We can share the bed, it won't be bad." A calm response from the agent. What more could you expect?

Your reluctant nod allows him to get back up to look through the wardrobe in the hotel room. A couple extra blankets stored alongside some pyjamas that the workforce provided for both of you. You two were granted a pair of sweatpants and black top - your eyes brightened up, realising you weren't having to sleep in fresh gear wear.

"I'll go in the bathroom to change, you can change here." An authoritative tone left him, not giving you a chance to speak back before he returned back into the bathroom. Scurrying over to the open wardrobe, you hand picked your pyjamas - undressing yourself from the imprisonment of your current clothes to something a lot more baggy and comfortable. A sigh let loose from you, your body mindlessly walking over to the bed and plopping down on the edge. The mattress aiding in soothing your back from the hellish ride you attuned escaping the island.

A yawn seeped through your lips, hazily looking at your phone screen at the time, 01:24... It really was time to rest. Though, the thought of Leon couldn't leave your mind. He plagued your brain - a part of you didn't complain.

A sound of a door creaking open embarked into your ears, Leon had changed into his nightclothes. The tank top fit snugly on his body however, the pair of sweatpants seemed a little baggy. Clearly a little too big for him since they were hanging dangerously low on his hips. He was plain exhausted. His limbs gradually moved him to the bed that you two were about to share. Sinking his body into the mattress as the sheets hugged his frame.

Minutes passed, a silence rose in the room. Leon's back laid restfully whilst scrolling through countless media apps to pass the time. His mind wandering back to you. The heat emanating his body contradicted with the cold expression on his face. Why was he so hard to read? You couldn't tell if he was even comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with you. Your body laid on it's side, staring at him brazenly. Forgetting that your eyes were peering at his body, Leon's gaze averted to you - an eyebrow raised on his face.

"You alright?" His question caught you off guard; no you weren't okay. Not when he was so close to you, the faint smell of him seeping into your senses. You genuinely couldn't be okay in this situation.

"Mhm, m'alright. Just tired." Leon's eyes glanced at you and his eyes shamelessly roamed over your body before he forced himself to look back down at the device in his hand. 'What the hell are you doing?' The question rung in his mind over and over again as he thought about you. There was no denying the fact that he found you incredibly attractive - but for you to be his work partner... It was unprofessional for such thoughts to occur in his mind. Shakily putting down the phone in his grasp he spoke. "You should get some rest, it's getting late."

Like rest was an option. Turning your head towards him, a twinge of irritation was mixed in with your voice. "I know, it's just.. it's hard to sleep right now." The idea of you and him so close was making your head foggy, especially now since he rolled onto his side - discarding his phone on the bedside table. He now faced you, noticing the tone of your voice. Was there something bothering you?

"Why's it hard?" It was starting to click in Leon's head that them sharing a bed may have made you nervous. Scared perhaps. Analysing your expression, he was observant in your body language. A hint of worry trespassed his vision whilst he watched you silently - waiting for you to continue. His head in his hand, inaudibly taking notice of how pretty you look. Completely captivated from your features, he shook his head to clear his mind.

"We're sharing a bed, now I know there's nothing between us but it's just... weird? No offence! Like you're not weird you know that I just-" Realising you were rambling, a heavy sigh left your lips. It was hard trying to compose yourself, particularly because Leon was looking at you. He didn't look confused nor grossed out.. just enamoured. Lovesick eyes boring into yours when he heard you ramble for a moment.

A slight chuckle was brought out from him when you mentioned the closeness between the two of you, a small idea crossed his mind about how your body was mere inches away from his. He swallowed before speaking. "None taken, I get it. Sharing a bed can be kinda intimate huh?" He found it rather cute that you were so antsy. "But I'm glad we have a bed..."

Leon was right, you convinced yourself nothing was weird - staring at the cream coloured ceiling. A light huff was let out of Leon's nose. "Just try and relax," he mumbled, unsure on how to comfort you. Watching you snuggle under the covers, a slight smile spread across his face.

"Cute."

Leon surprised himself that he mumbled it out loud, his body tensing from the fear that reigned his body. Mentally face palming himself, rapidly looking away from you. Reprimanding himself for being so stupid to let it slip out.

After a moment, a lower voice was heard from him. "I mean- Ugh, sorry I didn't mean to make this so awkward." Shifting himself further from you, feeling ashamed of himself - you stop him from almost falling off the bed. "No no, it's fine!" Your efforts of comforting him didn't help him as it was clear he was still embarrassed. Leon's mind kept recalling the scene, shouldered with how attractive you were.

"I meant it." He stated. Leon had no clue where this confidence in him was coming from, but he hoped it wouldn't run out any time soon. The look on your face made him feel less nervous. A shocked expression plastered all over you - stuttering not knowing what to say. He found you to be the prettiest woman he had ever seen, the kindest too. Looking back at it all, he registered all along he had a little thing for you. You respected him, valued his need for privacy and want to be unjudged. Not many knew of his situation and Leon's involvement in Raccoon City. You didn't even know, you never pried.

Shamelessly, a fat smile shone on your face. Leon's expression softened as he found himself in awe. His body itched, craving your touch. Your love. This renowned love blossomed within him.

"You're cute too." That one sentence could make his heart stop if he really went into deep thought about it. Leon never really found himself to be that attractive, yeah his muscles were good in some aspect in his eyes. He did train well, he gave himself that. After all, he was the one many depended on to save the abundance of sick problems this once calm world faced.

Another silence was shared between the two of you - not one of awkwardness but one of solace. Leon didn't feel distressed, he felt calm. You brought out a side of him which he believed was gone. The side being the young man who wasn't scared of the future. A time where he was happy within himself and oblivious. All he could picture was you. You and him happily being each other's bridge.

Each other's home.

"I'm glad we got that out of the way." A breathless voice cut you both out of your trances. Leon flickering his view on you. Your face, those beautiful eyes staring into his own. The soft lips of yours calling out to him. Your bare neck, a blank canvas for his kisses and bites. His eyes then averted to the base of your neck, your chest covered by the black shirt you wore. Feeling his stare, the burning sensation in your cheeks rose. "What... what now?" The scary question was imprinted in your mind. It was obvious you both had a thing for each other, yet what were you going to do about it? Perhaps a relationship could happen between the both of you; would you both just stay work partners?

"Can I.. can I hold you?" Vulnerability was present in Leon's voice. He craved to touch your skin, his fingers twitching slightly from the excitement. Touch starved. That was the true definition of Leon's love life right now. He hadn't involved himself in relationship matters for years and now that the chance popped up with you, he would take what he could get.

You didn't even say yes, your body spoke for you. Wrapping your arms around his chest - you could feel his heartbeat. Rapid pumps thudded into your ear. Strong arms hugged you back clearly stating silently that Leon couldn't let you go. You'd be surprised if his shirt didn't have an imprint of your face since you were so close against him. Breaking free slightly, your head popped up - looking up at him. You were presented with his Adam's apple, slowly bobbing up and down as he swallowed looking down at you. The rough bump alluring you in whilst your hazy eyes lingered on the skin of his neck. Moles sparsely speckled all over his skin. God had crafted Leon himself, you were sure of it.

Moreover, the heat from his body lingered around you. Creating an invisible fortress of affection and love as both of you stared at each other.

A shaky hand pressed against the skin of your cheek, calloused pads caressing you. "You're so pretty." Leon mumbled, shifting a bit. Your touch to him granted him a sense of warmth, he even leaned into it a little - subconsciously seeking comfort. You brought out the 'weak' side of him, it felt nice for him to let down his guard and be himself around you. He let out a pleased hum as he cuddled you, the hold over you was tight. To you, it seemed like he was starved for physical contact and was finally getting the human touch he deserved.

What happened next was a blur, to both of you anyway. The stare-off between his blue eyes and your own turned into your faces being so close together; guaranteed to kiss. An eskimo kiss shared with him, the tips of both your noses touching. Lips hovering over his, your whisper snaps him out of his daze. "Thank you..." Your gratitude granted you a chuckle from Leon but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

Leon continued to stare at you but to pinpoint, he was eying at your lips. They looked so soft, the mere sight of them making his heart race more. He swallowed hard, his mind clouded with the vision of kissing you. An overwhelming sense of desire passing through him - it was need. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't just go in for a kiss; not without consent. Yet he craved to feel his lips against yours.

"Can I kiss you?" His mumbled whisper echoed through your ears. Were you hearing him correctly?

Kiss? You?

Besides, it's not like you were going to straight out reject him. That wasn't even possible in this situation with him; pressed so close against you that you could feel his rock hard boner pressing against your thigh. A nimble nod from you responding to his question was all he needed.

Leon's lips are soft, softer than you would expect. Sweet little kisses are shared, melting you into him. His hands now run down your back, rubbing your skin through the cotton shirt. He hums, tilting your head slightly back to get a better angle. It feels messy as saliva is shared between the two of you. A soft whine escaping you when Leon breaks away. Reining you back in, he gives you another kiss. Pure passion and love interweaved in it.

Kisses soon turn into touches as your fingers manoeuvre around his torso, slowly digging your fingers into him - eliciting a groan out his mouth. His touch on you becomes possessive, kneading your skin in his hands. Leon holds you close and after a few minutes, you find yourself on his lap. His hands automatically went to your hips, gripping you tight as his eyes locked onto yours. Those blue eyes of his roamed your body shamelessly whilst he held you against him, taking in the view of your straddling his hips.

You could feel the hard-on beneath you, begging for some friction. Subconsciously, your hips start to rock slightly, Leon takes full control as he guides you. There was no way he could stop right now, not with how his body was aching so badly and having you on his lap like this. "Can we take this slow? We're both... really tired." A yawn escapes you mid sentence, you can feel yourself getting tired and wet.

"Yeah, we can take this slow. Anything you want love." The nickname shoots desire right into your veins, the rasp in his voice concocted with a tired sigh as he watches you grind on him is heavenly. Shuddering from his touch, Leon brings you down to lay on him - adjusting you on his lap. Your foreheads touch, all you can see is love in his eyes. Leon's fingers tug on your shirt, a breathless chuckle leaving him before he asks the question. "Can I take this off?" He can't help but want to see you, feel you - caress the smoothness of your skin on the pads of his fingers. Hearing you say the word "yes" made his hands work in a fast fashion as your torso was soon left bare.

"So beautiful..." He sat you back up, feeling your flesh mould in-between his fingers. Leon ached for you, he wanted to have more energy to give you the proper fucking you deserved. However, the past mission and the strain it had on both of your bodies exempted him from treating you the way he wanted. So he had to settle for soft, gentle sex. Just like you wanted.

Rapid breathing contradicted the mellow touches shared between you both, your hips continuously rocking slowly before he lifts you up slightly - removing the same sweatpants that were already dangerously low. You're face to face with his boxers, a clear wet patch showcasing the pre-cum that leaked out of his tip.

"See what you do to me?" Leon groaned out, palming himself slowly - your eyes following his every movement. He was enchanting nonetheless, alluring you in with every pump he did to himself. Leon's mind was fogged with you, the view of you turning every cell in his brain insane. He seriously couldn't get enough of your watchful eyes scanning his hand; viewing the pornographic sight in front of you.

Although once again he did think to make this the best sex he's had in a while, it was obvious you both were too tired to even do anything remotely crazy that night. So plain ole cowgirl it is.

Quick work was made for your sweatpants as they were easily tossed to the floor, your panties being the the second piece of protection between you and Leon's boxers straining his dick in place. His hands guided you still, the subtle movements rocking back on forth bringing both of you a sense of release you both needed. Silken kisses bringing out a wave of passion. Playing with the band of his boxers - a dark look appeared in his gaze.

"Impatient?" The mere one word question could've left you astonished if you weren't so hazy from being aroused. Of course you were impatient. He was the embodiment of seduction. "Well, yeah." A laugh escaped both Leon and you, your eyes boring into his.

"Shouldn't keep you waiting should I?"

Sliding your panties to the side; pulling his boxers down, it was easy for his cock to slide in. Eliciting a deep moan from the both of you as kisses were shared once again. Leon couldn't believe how good you felt, he already felt pussy drunk. The two of you shared tired eyes and low whimpers whilst your hips rocked back and forth.

"You're so pretty..." Leon mumbled out, dazed out of his mind looking at how your body synchronised with his. The way his dick was slipping in and out of you, pressing into that sweet spot of yours. How were you so pretty? And how did you already make such a mess? Glancing down, his eyes followed to the feeling of wetness coating the base of his cock - your inner thighs glistening from how wet you were. Completely mesmerised, Leon looked up at you with pure love and lust.

You couldn't talk, not when all your throat could conjure was the moans and low screams as his hips started to jerk up slightly - thrusting himself further in you. Holding onto the bedframe keeping you both afloat, your mumbles tried to alert him from the upcoming orgasm reaching you. "Mmph... L-Leon, I..." was all you could muster. It was the only coherent thing he could understand before feeling you tighten up.

"That's it baby, keep going." The softness in his voice juxtaposed the way his hips were snapping up and down, Leon couldn't help it. Your pussy felt too good wrapped around him. He had to put in the last of his energy to making you feel good at least. Lazily, his hand slowly reached your clothed clit - his fingers slowly rubbing the fabric of your panties. The perfect amount of friction to make your bundle of nerves become overstimulated whilst being stuffed full.

Your tired eyes locked with his, feeling yourself getting closer to seventh heaven. A small smirk plastered on Leon's face, watching you breathlessly whilst his dick twitched too.

"Gotta pull out..." He murmured, his fingers making you reach the pinnacle of your orgasm. "L-Leon!" All you could do was shudder on-top of him, feeling the remaining energy in you seep out alongside your orgasm. Collapsing onto him, Leon subtly slipped himself out, painting your clit and lower stomach with his cum. A low hum leaving him as he kissed the nape of your neck. "You did so well."

Panting heavily, your moan responded to his words. Chuckling to himself, Leon held you close whilst sitting up. Grabbing a few tissues in the box to wipe your tummy.

"Come on, let's get cleaned up."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

[jaeyunnz]

"Work Break Seduction."

ni-ki + f¡reader — ♡ 18+

WARNINGS — dom!ni-ki, sub¡reader, dirty talk, making out, cussing, rough sex, riki eats out reader, unprotected sex (stay safe dont do it.) pet names.

both characters are of age. (20+) not proofread, sorry if theres any errors. this is quite long but worth the read i promise!

Reader recently went into a new college and grew a school crush on Riki. Though he plays hard to get, your able to break his nonchalant demeanour.

Note : Riki was mostly requested, so enjoy. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Your parents recently moved to a different town, which meant transferring to a new college. It wasn’t as bad as you expected, though you didn’t really know anyone there—but that was fine. At least your childhood friend, Jess, was with you.

A few weeks passed, and you found yourself constantly drawn to a boy—Riki. Girls flocked to him, yet he always brushed them off or rejected their advances. No one seemed to know much about him. He was distant, only ever seen around small groups. But that only made him more intriguing. The mystery surrounding him pulled you in, making you want to learn more about him.

The problem? He avoided everyone—including you. The only times you ever spoke were during school projects, and even then, the conversations were brief or short talk.

This morning, once again, you found yourself paired with Riki. It didn’t bother you as much, but you could tell he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “Alright, your partners have been chosen. Get to work, project’s due in two days,” the teacher announced. You scanned the room for Riki, and then your eyes landed on him. He was leaning back in his chair, his posture casual and almost lazy. You knew you had to make the first move and approach him, or he’d likely ignore you the entire time.

You hated that you always had to be the one to approach him—it made you feel almost desperate. Yet, here you were, getting up and walking toward him. He watched as you pulled out your chair and sat down beside him. “Hi,” you said, glancing at him for a brief moment. He responded with a small nod, his usual way of acknowledging you.

You settle into the seat, trying to ignore the awkwardness that always seemed to hang between you two. The silence stretched for a moment, neither of you making any effort to start the project. You glance at him, but he’s already looking at his phone, clearly disinterested. Then, you let out a soft sigh, wishing he’d at least pretend to care. Finally deciding to break the silence. “So, uh… how do you want to split this up?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He shrugs without looking up. “You can do whatever,” he mutters. You bite back a small frustration. Damn, you knew he wasn’t one for much conversation, but it always felt like pulling teeth to get him to participate. Yet, there was something about his indifference that kept you intrigued, even if it was maddening. “I guess I’ll start with the research,” you say, hoping for a bit more input. He doesn’t respond, but you take that as your cue to begin.

The next hour passes in relative silence, except for the occasional rustling of papers and the tapping of his phone. You focus on your work, trying not to pay attention to how he barely acknowledges your presence. Though you’re starting to get irritated by how you’re doing all the work while he’s just sitting there—eyes glued to his phone, doing nothing at all, you can’t bring yourself to get truly mad. Not when he looks this… handsome.

Should you try to start another conversation, hoping he might actually respond? You really wanted to get to know him better, maybe even get him to show a little interest in you, too. Fuck it, might as well, you really like him. "Prom is coming soon, you going out with anyone?" Thats the first thing that came to mind, it was a bit personal, but your curious. Maybe you can shoot your shot?

He finally lifts his head up from his phone, placing it on the desk and locks eyecontact with you. "Nah. Not interested in that typa stuff." For the first time, he actually seemed engaged, and it left you a little thrown off balance. "Why not?" You say, he gives you a shrug. "Why are you asking anyway?" He raises an eyebrow, your slightly taken by surprise when he asks, trying to make yourself sound less interested. "I'm just trying to conversate with you, I mean your quiet as fuck."

He lets out a deep, small chuckle that sounds rich, causing you to snap your eyes at him. Shit, he's really talking to you? "Yeah, well you could've asked me anything," he taps the desk with his fingertips, "But that was apparently the first thing that came to mind?" He rests his arm over the head of the chair, scanning your body for a moment which causes a small faint redness appear on your cheeks. "A bit bold of you, I'll give you credit for that."

You slightly roll your eyes, "How was that bold? I simply asked if you had a prom date or not." He finally sits up straight in his seat, running his hand through his short black hair which catches your attention. "Really?" He chuckles a bit, looking around the classroom.

You raise your eyebrow in slight confusion before he meets your gaze again, "C'mon now. You don't think i've noticed you staring at me?" Your eyes widen, he leans in closer and suddenly your heart starts to pound unbelievably fast. "Every single time we have a class together, I see you." his cold fingertips trails up your thigh, "Your into me? Aren't you? I mean thats why you asked me such a question." Your body freezes, shivers running down your spine.

How the fuck did he know?

"Thats not..." unable to finish your sentence with his hand making contact with your thigh. "Not true?" He says, his hands creeping down to pull your chair closer to him, the both of your knees brushing against eachother. His eyes dart down to your lips, a teasing smirk appearing on his face. Before you can say anything, the bell rings, interrupting the intense moment.

"We can uhm... finish this project later?" He leans back against his chair, acting totally careless about what just happened between you two. "Meet me at lunch." Is all he says before leaving the room. You know your face is beet red, but you dont even wanna see how you look right now. So then you start putting away the paper work into your bag, packing your stuff as he leaves the room, not looking back at you once. For a moment you just stand in the now empty class with a blank mind, trying to process everything that happened.

At lunch, you find yourself sitting at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, just as he asked. Your heart races a little, unsure of what to expect. You glance around, half-expecting him to bail, but then you spot him walking toward you, looking as casual as ever.

"Hey," Riki says, sliding into the seat across from you. His eyes briefly meet yours before he looks down at the table. "Hi," you reply, trying to sound casual even though your nerves are on edge. There’s a moment of silence between you two, the kind that always seemed to stretch on forever. You want to fill it with something, but words feel like they’re just out of reach.

Finally, he speaks again. "So, what’s your deal?" You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugs, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a split second before looking away again. "Like, why are you always tryna talk to me. You barely know me." His bluntness takes you by surprise, but somehow it doesn’t feel as cold as you thought it would. It’s almost… honest.

You take a deep breath. "I don’t know. You’re just different, you know? It’s hard to ignore." He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'll take that as a compliment I guess."

"I mean yeah, like you’re this whole mystery. I just want to figure you out." For a second, he looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he leans back in his seat, his gaze lingering on you a little longer. You feel like he’s reading you, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s trying to figure you out too. Then, without warning, he leans forward, closing the space between you. His hand brushes against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"Well," he says, voice low, "maybe you’ll find out soon." Before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours. It’s sudden, soft at first, but the intensity quickly builds, and everything else fades away. The warmth of his mouth against yours leaves you breathless, and for a moment, everything feels completely different, like this is where you’re supposed to be.

When he pulls away, you’re left dazed, trying to catch your breath. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a hint of something—something you can’t quite place. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a little rough. You nod, still in shock, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. I think I’m more than okay." You bite your lower lip slightly, blushing profusely.

You both sit there for a moment, the air thick with tension and a thousand unspoken words. Your heart is still racing, but now, it's not from nerves. It's from the overwhelming feeling that something has shifted between you two. He doesn't move away, instead, his eyes search yours, almost like he's waiting for something.

Your mind is swirling, but your body seems to take over, leaning in closer, lips barely brushing against his. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his presence pulling you in with a force you can't resist. Without thinking, you kiss him again— this time deeper, more urgent. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb gently grazing the skin as he pulls you in, his other hand sliding to your waist. Your heart hammers in your chest as he kisses you back with a hunger you didn't expect.

It's nothing like the first kiss-this one is raw, a mix of desire and need. You feel his fingers trace the line of your jaw, his touch almost desperate, and it sends a rush of heat through you. Your hands instinctively find his shirt, tugging him closer, as if you can't get enough of him.

His lips move with yours, more demanding now, and you match his intensity, breathless and wanting more. You can't explain it, but everything about him feels right-how he holds you, how his lips mold against yours, like this was always meant to happen. His hand slides down your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat building between you two. The kiss deepens, and everything else disappears-there's only him, only this moment.

When Riki pulls away, both of you are panting, eyes locked, faces inches apart. "You sure about this?" he asks, his voice husky. You nod, trusting your voice.

You're sure. You want this. You want him.

Without saying another word, he tilts his head toward a washroom near by the cafeteria. Afterall you both can't do anything with people around, so that was the only option. You get up, your heart beating even faster as he follows behind you. He pushes you into one of the stalls, locking it behind you.

He slowly turns around, pushing your back against the wall and his lips are on yours again, and this time, it feels like the beginning of something that neither of you can pull away from. The kiss continues, deepening with each passing second. His hands move, exploring, pulling you closer as if he can't get enough of you either. The way he holds you makes everything else fade into the background-the noise of the cafeteria, the people walking by the washroom, it all feels distant and irrelevant.

You feel his breath against your lips, a slight tremor in his touch as his fingers trace the curve of your back. Your own hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the strands as you pull him in even closer, wanting more of him. You can taste the faint trace of mint on his breath, and it only makes you crave him more.

Riki slowly pulls away from the kiss, the both of you breathless. Finally his hand slides down your thigh, inching under your skirt. "Can I?" He grunts out as you nod at him almost instantly. "Starting to think you've wanted this for a while now," he chuckles, slipping his hands underneath your skirt and groping your ass, a small moan escaping your lips. "S-shut up will you?" He smirks, his lips trail down, leaving wet kisses down your neck. 

You press your lips tightly together, glaring at him playfully. You can't help but feel a surge of need. It's like you're both fighting the same battle, giving in to something that's been building up for weeks. Suddenly you find your hand guiding his further up your skirt.

Riki doesn't hesitate, immediately shoving your hand aside and tearing your panties apart with his hands. He gets down on his knees and buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your dripping folds without warning like a starved man. Your eyes roll back to the back of your head, looking down at him in slight surprise. "Fuck, you're so wet." He growls against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs.

He groans as he feels your fingers gripping his hair tighter, your delicious moans spurring him on. He alternates between long, teasing licks and quick flicks against your clit, savoring your sweet taste. His hands squeeze your ass, pulling you harder against his face. "F...fuck ah mmph.." Your back arches against the wall, clawing at it slightly as you try to keep quiet, not wanting anyone to hear.

He hooks his arms around your legs and throws them over his shoulders, opening you up even wider. He laps his tongue greedily around your clit, determined to make you come on his face before he allows himself to enter you. "Mmh." He groans against your pussy, your body shaking slightly from the vibration. "A-ah Riki..." The stall gets filled up with slurping sounds along with your quiet desperate moans.

He slightly pulls back, looking up at you with half closed eyes. Your breathing heavily, sweat dripping down your forehead. "Riki or daddy?" He licks his lower lip slightly, smirking a bit as he sees your widened eyes. "I..I am not calling you that weirdo." He tilts his head back, "Hey hey, it was just a suggestion."

"I'll think... about it." You whisper embarrassed, turning a light shade of red when he lets out a quiet chuckle. "Thats my good girl." Your legs slightly tremble at the name, butterflies forming in your stomach before he spreads your legs wider, feasting on your pussy like it's his last meal. He growls against your cunt when you reach down to grip his hair. Your about to reach your climax and he knows it.

"I-I'm gonna-" you whine out, the sound echoes around the empty washroom. Riki snaps his mouth against your clit, sucking hard. "Come on my face, baby." His tongue laps up your juices, going fast and hard against your sensitive nub. "Give it to me." His words are more than enough for you to reach your high, finding yourself cumming all over his face, your thighs shaking violently while you try your hardest not to scream from the pleasure.

He feels your body convulse with your climax. He spreads your legs wider, pushing them back almost painfully, allowing him deeper access. His tongue goes wild, licking and sucking every last bit of your juice. He growls softly against your pussy before pulling back, licking your release off his lips. You suck in a moan, looking down at him.

Riki's cock is aching against his jeans, begging to be free. "P-please." He hears your soft beg. He unbuckles his belt slowly, eyes darkening. "Do you want my dick?" His voice is deep, seeing you slowly nod your head. He pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, freeing his throbbing cock. He strokes himself slowly, letting you admire his impressive size. A droplet of precum pearls at the tip as he grunts. You stare intently, gulping at his length, "You're..."

He steps forward, turning you around and lifting your ass up, rubbing the head against your sensitive entrance. "Yeah? Think you can take it?" His voice is thick with desire as he pushes the tip just slightly inside you, a loud gasp escaping your mouth. "So far for being quiet." Riki says teasingly as you glare up at him playfully, swallowing hard. "I-I'm trying my hardest," He chuckles while pushing in slightly more, filling you with just the tip. "Am I too big?" He grunts, your hands going up to grip his shoulders tightly.

"I-I can take it.." you whimper out. "You sure?" He feeds you another inch, making you wince slightly. He watches your face closely. "Tsk, you're only halfway there." He pulls back slightly then pushes in another inch, hitting a new spot inside you which causes your mouth to open wide. "You really can take my whole dick? Don't wanna hurt you." His voice drops lower.

You just nod, desperation taking over you. "Good girl." He praises darkly, then grips your hips tightly and slams his hips forward, impaling you completely on his massive length. For a second, your vision gets blurry, the pleasure overwhelming. "Fuck!" He roars as he bottoms out inside you, gripping on your hips tightly. You let out a loud straining moan before hearing someone walk into the washroom.

The both of you freeze, and Riki doesn't move inside you just yet. Your slightly panicking but he doesn't seem to care because he begins to grind his hips slowly, letting you feel every inch of him. Your mouth opens wide, but he quickly covers it with his hand, leaning down and whispers against your ear, "That pussy just swallowed every inch of my cock like such a good girl." His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you open wider. You swallow hard, whimpering against his palm. "Shh, don't wanna get caught do you?"

Finally that person seems to leave — and Riki's hand leaves your mouth. His thick shaft drags in and out of your tight, soaked pussy at a brutal pace. Each thrust makes you wince and whimper, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. He pounds into you relentlessly, the sound of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room. "F-fuck ah.. Riki-" You roll your eyes back, your mind becoming blank.

He can feel your gentle scratches against his back as he pounds into you, his hands tightening on your thighs. "Fuck, baby. This what you wanted? My dick destroying your insides?" You nod, opening your mouth to speak but words come out as moans instead. He pulls your hips further up to get deeper inside you. He leans forward, his mouth finding yours in a harsh, bruising kiss as he continues to rut into you.

He groans loudly into the kiss as he feels your pussy clench tightly around his throbbing shaft before breaking the kiss, panting heavily. "Shit, you're squeezing me so fucking tight." He adjusts his angle, deliberately targeting your G-spot with every powerful thrust.

Your trying to grip on the walls, but your fingers slip. "G-gonna cum..." His eyes darken with lust at your words, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. "Cum for me, baby. Milk my dick with that tight cunt." He reaches down and circles his thumb over your clit, applying pressure in time with his thrusts.

And with that, He feels your release bathe his length, making him groan loudly. Your pussy pulses around him tightly, almost painfully. He pumps into you erratically, losing his rhythm. He lowers his head and watches as your fluids coat his shaft, making it glide easily in and out of your body.

He pants heavily, finally unleashing his pent up load deep inside of your wet cunt. Your back arches against him as he does so, the both of you letting out loud moans from the feeling. Then he pulls out slowly, his cock glistening with your juices. "Fuck." He holds your waist and you tremble, putting your whole body weight on him since your struggling to stand.

The bathroom stall feels too small now, the air thick with the weight of what just happened. You’re both still breathing heavily, and there’s a quiet, almost uncomfortable stillness between you.

He leans back against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to process everything. You do the same, your mind racing a little. It’s strange how quickly things shifted, how in the span of just a few minutes, everything between you changed. You glance over at him. He’s still looking at you, his eyes soft, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You’re both just sitting there in the aftermath, unsure of what to say next.

"So… that happened," you murmur, trying to break the silence. He lets out a small laugh, but it’s low, more to himself than anything. “Yeah. Guess it did.” His voice sounds different now, less guarded, but there’s still that underlying tension. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or nervous. A mix of both. "I didn’t expect it to happen like this, especially here." He looks around the cramped stall, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Neither did I. But… it’s not the worst place, I guess."

You roll your eyes, half-smiling. “So… what now?” you ask, the question hanging in the air between you. He pauses, clearly thinking it over. Finally, he looks at you, his gaze steady. "I don’t know. But I don’t want it to be a one-time thing." You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. "Neither do I."

💘: thank you so much for all your support on my storiesss!! i didnt expect anyone to like them, so thank youu!!!🥹💕💕 ill get to the rest of the requests soon, im currently busy w school so itll take some time, thanks for your patience🫶

[flwrkid14]

Please please please give me tim drake who has always wanted a little brother. Give me tim drake who was so excited to have damian as a little brother. Give me Tim drake who was heartbroken that damian hated him. Give me Tim drake who gave up on his dreams of being the best older brother.

But also give me Tim drake who was so happy when duke came into the family and was happy to meet him. Give me Tim drake who has to experience the awe and admiration Duke has for him because HE is Duke's robin. Give me a Tim drake who FINALLY gets to be the older brother he always wanted to be.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GIVE ME A TM DRAKE WHO TEACHES DUKE HOW TO BE A DRAKE, WHO TEACHES DUKE HOW TO ACT AT GALAS AND INTERACT WITH HIGH SOCIETY LIKE JANET TAUGHT HIM.

(No pressure, I love your work so much)

hi anon !! tysm for the ask and sorry it took me a minute to get to it, but I had so much fun writing this, and this was such a brilliant idea! <3

Tim always wanted a little brother.

Not to boss around or dump chores on—he just liked the idea of it. Someone to look after. Someone to share things with. To protect. He grew up alone in a house full of silence and secrets, and maybe he thought a little brother would make it all feel a little less cold.

So when Damian came into the picture, Tim was excited. Really, genuinely excited. Damian was younger. He was new. He was Tim’s chance to finally be the older brother he’d always wanted to be.

Except Damian… hated him.

From the start. Didn’t even hesitate. It was instant, razor-sharp disdain. Like Tim had done something unspeakable just by existing. Just—rage and rejection and contempt.

And Tim—he didn’t know what to do with that. He tried, at first. But everything he did just seemed to make things worse. So eventually, he stopped trying. He let the silence settle between them again, let the distance become a wall, and then a canyon.

And eventually, it just felt like—he’d never had a little brother at all.

Then Duke joined the family.

Younger than Tim. Bright. Smart. So much potential. And Tim didn’t let himself hope. Didn’t reach.

So he stayed polite. Friendly. Civil. He helped Duke when he asked, guided him when it was needed. But he kept that emotional distance. Just in case. Just in case Duke ended up hating him too.

Except… Duke didn’t.

Instead, Duke started standing by him at events. Letting Tim take the lead. Letting Tim show him the ropes of high society and backhanded condolences.

Tim noticed the way Duke mimicked his posture, his cadence, his etiquette. Like he trusted him.

And something in Tim—hope. It sparked again.

He started softening. Started doting. Just a little. Then more. Checking in. Saving him the good snacks. Making sure he wasn’t left behind in the chaos of everything.

And one day, Duke tells him— “You were my Robin. Not Dick. Not Jason. You. I always looked up to you.”

And that—Tim has to sit down. Because. No one’s ever said that to him. No one’s ever meant it like that. He’d never expected to hear it from anyone, let alone from Duke—the kid he hadn’t let himself hope for.

Duke likes when Tim teaches him how to be a Drake. When Tim smooths his collar and reminds him to arch one eyebrow when a socialite says something snide. Duke notices the difference, too. Damian learns how to be a Wayne. But he learns how to be a Drake.

And Duke thinks he might actually like being a Drake, even more than he would a Wayne, at least. There’s something gentle about it. Something warm.

Tim looks at Duke and thinks: maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Maybe this is what having a little brother feels like.

And it’s not perfect. It’s not how he pictured it when he was ten years old and lonely.

But it’s real.

And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[fallenbratfiction]

his assistant ~ harry castillo x f! reader

A/N: I had this idea about him and it completely stopped all my uni reading so I put away the pdfs and got to writing this beauty. I was kicking at my feet giggling and screeching aaaaaaaaa

warnings: age gap (early twenties reader, mid forties older boss harry), workplace relationship / power dynamics (boss × assistant), alcohol, smut, fingering, oral sex (f! receiver), unprotected sex. Let me know if I've forgotten any warnings so I can add them.

minors dni ~ minors do not interact with this fic or my blog. I am not responsible for your consumption.

do not copy, translate or claim this story as your own.

Your day consisted of running after Harry. He was a busy man—and by extension, you were a busy assistant.

You��d landed this job thanks to a mentor’s referral letter, and you were forever grateful. It had changed your life: no more night shifts while trying to finish your bachelor's degree.

Harry was a reserved man, at first he didn’t talk much, but he had a sharp sense of humor. Over time, you’d learned how to read him, and together, you'd become a solid team.

He thought your work was exceptional. You were dedicated—sometimes too dedicated. If he stayed at the office all night, you stayed too, just in case he needed something. He told you more than once to go home, but you rarely listened.

Lately, he'd started dating again. That meant working out a lot. Sometimes you'd catch him right after a run, sweatshirt soaked through. It was hard to focus on your notes when he looked like that.

He didn’t need to work out. He was already unfairly attractive—but of course, you didn’t say that. Not your place.

You tossed a towel at him, which he caught midair. He peeled off the drenched sweatshirt, revealing the results of his dedication. Either he was too comfortable with you now, or he'd forgotten you were still in the room.

“Fucking hell.”

He turned toward you, raising an eyebrow.

You quickly held up your phone. “This thing just froze. Fucking hell.”

He nodded, and you prayed the earth would swallow you whole.

But he knew what you meant.

__________________________

It was late at the office. The only two people left were you and Harry. He sat at his large desk, fingers flying across the keyboard, though he kept glancing your way.

You were focused on your phone, scheduling appointments, replying to emails. He liked watching you when you were focused—your scrunched nose, the way you bit your lip when you made a mistake. How you always tucked your hair behind your ear like it helped you concentrate. To him, it just gave him a perfect view of your neck—like a subtle invitation to that sweet spot close to your ear.

“Have you eaten anything?” he asked.

You looked up, caught off guard. “Uhm... no? I had an oatmeal bar a few hours ago.”

He frowned. He hated how often you skipped meals because of work—because of him.

“Don’t worry,” you added. “Go home. I’ll grab a salad or something later.”

“I was thinking,” he interrupted, “we could get dinner. Together.”

You blinked. “You want to have dinner... with me?”

“We spend the whole day together. Don’t see the issue with having dinner, too.”

You hesitated. “Wouldn’t that get me into trouble? I mean... HR?”

“I’m the boss,” he said. “You won’t get into any trouble. It’s a friendly invitation.”

You considered it. Honestly, you were starving—and if you waited any longer, your stomach would probably start growling audibly.

“Sure. Why not,” you shrugged, grabbing your jacket and slinging your purse over your shoulder.

You followed him into a fancy restaurant. The kind with low lights, gold accents, and a wine list thicker than a Bible. You resisted the urge to take out your phone for a picture.

A waitress led you to your table before disappearing. Harry pulled out your chair for you. You murmured a shy thank-you to which he hummed. 

He sat across from you and you observed how he got comfortable taking off his jacket. 

Harry handed you the menu, but you were too aware of everything—the ambient jazz, the soft clinking of cutlery, still trying to process this entire situation—being out with him, in public, like this. It’s not like you hadn’t been in public with him before, you were constantly in public but the dynamic was different. you weren’t there holding his jacket while he had dinner with someone else, or sitting at the bar or a different table to keep an eye if needed. No, you were sitting with him at the fancy restaurant. 

Moments later, a tall brunette waitress appeared. Thin smile. Sharp eyes.

"Can I get you something to drink while you decide?" she asked, not once looking in your direction. She flipped her hair as she awaited his response.

Your brows lifted slightly. Harry noticed.

He didn’t blink. “We’ll take the house Cabernet. Two glasses.”

That’s when she looked at you—finally. One long, assessing glance. Then a bright smile aimed only at him.

“Oh,” she said innocently. “Is she even of legal drinking age?”

You stiffened. Your hand tightened around the edge of the table.

You were ready to correct her. “Actually, I’m his—”

But Harry’s tone cut through first. Calm. Controlled. No smile.

“She’s my partner, actually.”

The waitress blinked. Her face held a flicker of something before she masked it with another sweet smile.

“Right,” she said slowly, lingering a second too long. “I just—thought she was your daughter at first. That’s all.” She gave him a wink like it was a private joke.

You opened your mouth, fully ready to set her on fire with words— Are you always this unprofessional, or am I just lucky tonight?

But Harry reached across the table, fingers brushing your hand lightly. Just enough to anchor you.

“She’ll have the same wine as me,” he added firmly, not breaking eye contact with the waitress. “Thank you.”

The message was clear: You can go now.

She hesitated—then turned, heels clicking sharply as she walked away.

You looked at him. “Partner?” you whispered, incredulous. “Castillo, what the fuck was that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry—would you rather I let her mock you as my child or my assistant?”

“But I am your assistant.”

“And I wasn’t about to let her reduce you to that. Not when you’re sitting here with me.”

You opened your mouth again—then closed it. Your cheeks burned.

“Just say thank you,” he added, voice low. “Or gracias.”

“…Gracias,” you muttered, still glaring at the now-empty space where the waitress stood.

A few minutes passed in silence as you both read the menu. Then you snorted.

Harry looked up. “What?”

“Sorry, just—the idea of being your partner,” you said, covering your mouth to hide your grin. Good joke. Will never happen.

“Why is that funny? Am I that bad-looking?”

“No! It’s just... me? Being with you? Me?”

“Well, you’re not bad-looking either. I don’t see the humor.”

“Thanks... I guess.”

“I mean—you’re gorgeous. Anyone would be lucky to be with you. Hell, I’d be lucky, if I wasn’t older.”

You blinked. Thought you’d misheard. But before you could ask, he was waving the waitress back to take your order.

She returned a few minutes later, two wine glasses in hand and a bottle tucked expertly in the crook of her arm. This time, she had no choice but to acknowledge you.

She set Harry’s glass down smoothly. Then yours, with a forced politeness that made you want to laugh.

"Well," you said under your breath, watching her walk away stiffly. "She doesn’t seem like quite a fan of me."

Harry smirked. “You think?”

“She looked like she wanted to throw the wine in my face.”

“I wouldn’t let her waste the good stuff.”

The wine ritual followed, soft and flirtatious. He swirled his glass and held it near your face.

"Swirl first," he said softly. "Let it breathe. Then smell. But don’t shove your nose in like a rookie.”

You chuckled. “So you’re a sommelier now?”

“No, I just have taste.”

You mirrored him. Swirled. Smelled. Sipped.

“Any notes?” he asked, lips curled in amusement.

"Yeah. Grapes," you deadpanned.

He laughed, eyes crinkling—and for a second, it felt like there were no titles between you. No roles. Just two people. Sitting across from each other. Maybe on the verge of something stupid, or something real.

The wine helped. So did the food.

The waitress returned with two beautifully plated dishes and the thinnest layer of civility. She set Harry’s plate down with practiced ease, then yours with stiff politeness. Her jaw was tight. She didn’t say a word this time.

When she walked away, you finally exhaled.

Harry raised his glass slightly toward you. “To surviving the service industry.”

You clinked his glass with yours, managing a small laugh. But your mind wasn’t really on the food. Or the wine. Or the waitress.

It was still on him.

Specifically: “Hell, I’d be lucky… if I wasn’t older.”

He said it so casually. Like it wasn’t a confession. Like it wasn’t driving you quietly insane.

You watched him from across the table as he cut into his steak—calm, focused, unbothered. How was he always like this? Controlled. Grounded. Like nothing ever rattled him.

You bit your lip and stabbed at your salad.

“You’re quiet,” he said after a moment.

“I’m eating,” you replied, a little too fast.

He raised a brow. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

You shrugged, trying not to overthink it. “Just... still running through what she said, I guess.”

He studied you for a second. “Let it go. She’s not worth that much space in your head.”

“That’s not—” You paused. “It’s not about her.”

Harry leaned back slightly, his eyes still on you. “Then what is it?”

You hesitated. Then took a sip of your wine, buying time.

“If I wasn’t older…”

That’s what it was, that damn line.

You swallowed, not just the wine, but the way your heart seemed to lurch every time you replayed it.

“It’s stupid,” you said finally. “Forget it.”

“I won’t,” he replied. “You don’t usually get this flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” you lied.

He smirked, tilting his head. “Right.”

You poked at your food again. Then quietly you proceeded “So what did you mean?”

He looked at you, serious now. No smirk. No tease.

“I meant what I said.”

“About the age thing?”

He nodded. “I try not to think about it, but yeah. Sometimes I wonder if I’d cross a line just by wanting more than I should.”

Silence.

Then, softer: “And what happened on Monday didn’t help.”

You stared at him confused. “What happened on Monday?”

He held your gaze. “You tossed a towel at me. I took my shirt off. And you said, fucking hell.”

Your eyes widened. “I said it because—”

“I know why,” he said. Still calm. Still steady. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind.”

You stared at your plate, the flush spreading to your neck.

He added, voice barely above the hum of the restaurant

“I think about it too. You. More than I should.”

You didn’t answer.

But you didn’t need to.

Because when he reached across the table—just for a moment, just to brush your hand with his fingers again—you didn’t pull away.

_____________________________

The air outside was cooler than you expected. Or maybe it was just the heat still clinging to your skin from the conversation.

Harry walked a few steps ahead, hands in his pockets, silent. He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk near the curb. The night stretched around you both—quiet, electric.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, not facing you. “If I made you uncomfortable back there.”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned, finally looking at you. “At the table. I shouldn’t have said that—about thinking about you. Or the age thing. It wasn’t appropriate.”

You stepped closer. “Harry—”

“If it put you in a weird position, I—”

You didn’t let him finish. You closed the distance, grabbed the lapel of his coat, and pressed a kiss to his lips. His mustache grazed your skin, warm and soft and just rough enough to make your breath catch.

He didn’t kiss back at first. He just froze, lips parted under yours, like his brain hadn’t caught up yet.

Then, slowly, his hand came up—fingertips grazing your waist as if to make sure you were real.

You started to pull away, panic bubbling in your chest.

Shit, shit! What did I just do?

But he caught you and kissed you back. Not rushed. Not messy. Just steady, grounded, certain. His mouth moved against yours like he’d been holding back for too long—and now, the dam had cracked.

When you finally broke apart, you stayed close, your breath still caught between you.

He looked at you like he was trying to piece together what just happened. And you looked right back. Not saying anything, just holding his gaze.

Yes.

That happened just now.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d crossed a line,” he murmured. His voice was low. Honest.

“I crossed it for you,” you said.

His lips twitched—barely. Like he wanted to smile but didn’t quite know how to yet. He stared at you like you were some puzzle he’d never expected to solve.

Then, without another word, he took a step back and held out his hand.

You didn’t hesitate.

_______________________

The silence in the car wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Full.

You sat there, lips still tingling, eyes on the window. The city blurred past in soft golds and blues. 

Neon signs flickered. A woman smoked on a balcony. A dog pulling its owner across a crosswalk. A man hailed a cab. Life was still happening—but all you could feel was him.

His presence beside you. His warmth in the space between the seats. The echo of his mouth on yours.

You tilted your head, eyes tracing the curve of the moon through the window. It followed you quietly, like it knew. Like it saw everything.

Every red light glowed too long. Every block felt like a held breath.

He gripped the wheel tighter than usual. Jaw tense. He checked his mirrors often, but it was clear he wasn’t really seeing anything. His jaw worked silently, eyes flicking between the road and the rearview, like any movement might pull him out of the moment.

You kept quiet. Let the silence stretch.

Finally, his voice broke through the quiet. Low. Controlled.

“I meant what I said.”

You turned your head slowly. “Which part?”

He glanced at you, just once.

“All of it.”

You held his gaze for a second longer than necessary. Then looked away, smiling just a little.

“Good.”

You finally made it to his building. He pulled into the underground garage, the soft hum of the engine echoing off the concrete walls.

He parked in his usual spot. You recognized it—you’d been here before. Dropped off folders, laptops, contracts he forgot in the office. Walked these exact halls with purpose, never pausing. Always professional. Always business.

But this time?

This time you didn’t have a file in your hands. You weren’t on a clock. You weren’t his assistant.

You were just you.

And that changed everything.

He turned off the engine, but neither of you moved for a second. You could feel the air shift. Not heavier—closer.

He got out of the car without another word, the door shutting quietly behind him. A few seconds later, your door opened—and there he was, standing beside you like it was nothing.

He looked at you. “You coming?”

You nodded once. “Yeah.”

You blinked.

You hadn’t moved.

You were still sitting there, fingers lightly pressed against your thigh, your body catching up to what your heart had already decided.

He didn’t rush you.

Just waited. One hand resting on the open door, the other in his coat pocket, his eyes on you like he could see the entire storm happening behind your stillness.

You exhaled slowly. Then you stood.

His gaze followed you as you stepped out of the car, close enough to feel the warmth of his body in the chill of the garage.

No words. Just the soft click of the door closing behind you.

You followed him to the elevator.

________________________

The elevator opened into the apartment directly.

You stepped in first. You’d been here before, of course—several times. Late-night contract drop-offs. Files he forgot in the office. You knew the layout by heart, knew the scent of the place, even the way the light curved in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

But you’d never walked in like this.

Not without an agenda or a deadline.

Not as a guest.

And suddenly, the space felt different.

It wasn’t sterile or cold like you used to tell yourself. No sleek, lonely bachelor energy. No leather-and-glass cliché.

It was warm.

Low lighting. Art on the walls. A worn leather chair near the window, a record player spinning soft jazz in the corner. Shelves with actual books, not props. A thick wool throw draped over the couch. A scent like cedarwood and something expensive lingered in the air.

“Wow,” you breathed, almost instinctively.

Harry loosened his tie. “You’ve seen it before.”

You looked at him. “Yeah, but not like this.”

He held your gaze a second longer, then nodded. “Fair.”

He disappeared into the kitchen briefly, came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. This bottle looked different—older, deeper colored.

“Private collection?” you teased.

“Something like that.” He poured carefully, then handed you a glass.

You swirled it. “Swirl, breathe, smell... sip?”

He smiled again, slower this time. “You remembered.”

You sipped. You could feel his gaze linger on your mouth.

“It’s really good,” you said, clearing your throat.

He stood in front of you, not close enough to touch—but enough that you felt it. The gravity of him. The silence stretching between you again.

He stayed standing across from you for a moment, sleeves rolled up, the top buttons of his shirt undone now. You watched him, your glass warm in your hand.

Neither of you said a word.

But everything was being said.

You stepped toward him at the same time he stepped toward you. The shared gravity was inevitable.

He reached out first, not to kiss you again, but to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His knuckles grazed your cheek, and it made your breath catch.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Are you?”

He smiled, something half-there. “Not sure.”

You were close enough now that you could feel the heat of his chest through the thin barrier of space left between you. His hand lingered at your waist. Yours found his wrist, thumb tracing the veins beneath his skin.

You weren’t sure who moved first this time. Maybe both.

The kiss was quieter now. Slower. Less urgent, more intentional. Like you were both realizing there was no clock ticking. No one to interrupt. No need to hold back.

When he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, you kept your eyes closed. Let the silence wrap around you.

“I wasn’t planning this,” he murmured.

“I know,” you said. “Me neither.”

But neither of you moved away.

You barely noticed how close you’d gotten until your glass tilted slightly, the wine catching the rim. A splash landed on his shirt, dark red soaking into crisp white.

“Shit,” you whispered, pulling back. “I didn’t mean to—”

Harry glanced down. Then up at you, completely unfazed.

“It was coming off anyway,” he said simply, already working the buttons open with one hand.

You stood frozen for a beat too long, your wine forgotten.

He peeled off the shirt and tossed it onto the back of a nearby chair. His torso was lean, toned in a way that only comes from quiet consistency—not vanity, just discipline. His skin was warm under the golden lighting, a scattering of freckles across his shoulders.

You cleared your throat, trying to remember how to function.

He looked at you again, this time slower. “You okay?”

“I will be if you stop looking at me like that,” you murmured, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

“Like what?”

“Like you already know what’s going to happen.”

He stepped closer again. “I don’t,” he said softly. “That’s kind of the best part.”

He took your glass and set it aside—carefully—then turned back to you.

His eyes were darker now. Focused.

He wanted your full attention.

He gripped your waist and pulled you closer, his touch no longer tentative. Confident. Sure. With one movement, he shifted your weight, guiding you until your legs wrapped around him instinctively.

He walked—slow but deliberate—until your back met the wall.

The kiss broke for only a second, just long enough for you to catch your breath.

Then it came crashing back—furious now. Hungry. His mouth on yours like he’d been waiting all night to be this unrestrained.

Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers tugging just hard enough to make him groan against your lips. He pressed into you, anchoring you to the wall, one hand exploring the curve of your hip, the other trailing along your ribs, steady but searching.

He kissed like he knew you—like every inhale, every tilt of your head, was familiar already. Like he didn’t want to stop.

And neither did you.

He pulled back just long enough to catch your breath—his lips parted, his chest rising with yours in sync.

And then he moved.

He didn’t say a word, just adjusted his grip on your thighs and carried you across the room. You tightened your legs around his waist instinctively, fingers still tangled in his hair as he walked the two of you toward the bedroom.

You weren’t sure when your shirt came off. Somewhere between the hallway and the doorway, between kisses along your neck and soft, breathless gasps you couldn’t hold back.

He dropped it on the floor like it had never mattered, and by the time you reached the bed, all that was left between you and the sheets was skin and heat and a thousand quiet yeses.

He set you down gently. Like he knew this wasn’t just about desire—it was about something else. Something you both hadn’t dared name yet.

But right now?

You didn’t need a name.

You needed him.

He laid you down gently, like he didn’t want to rush—like he wanted to memorize every second of this.

And then he hovered above you, just for a breath. His eyes swept over you—bare skin, flushed cheeks, your mouth still parted from the last kiss.

You felt his fingertips brush the side of your neck, slow, reverent. His gaze followed the motion like he’d traced this path a hundred times in his head.

And then he leaned in.

His lips brushed just beneath your jaw first—soft, careful. Then lower. Warmer. His breath fanned over the curve where your neck met your shoulder, and your pulse jumped.

You felt it coming before it happened.

That spot.

That one spot—right behind your ear, the one he always glanced at when you’d shift your hair during long office days. The one that always felt too exposed when you wore it up.

He found it.

And kissed it.

Not quick. Not teasing.

Slow. Open-mouthed. Intentional.

Your fingers tightened against his back, your breath caught, your whole body arching slightly beneath him.

“Been wanting to do that,” he murmured against your skin.

You shivered. “Yeah?”

“Since the first time you tucked your hair back,” he whispered. “Drove me fucking crazy.”

You smiled. Then gasped—because he kissed it again, deeper this time, his hand sliding down to your hip, anchoring you to him like he couldn’t risk letting you drift too far.

And from there, he took his time.

Your moans were like music to his ears.

He’d imagined this—more times than he cared to admit. But he never let himself get too far. He’d always pulled himself back, always shut the door on the thought before it became too real, too dangerous.

But this wasn’t a dream.

This was real.

And he was here. With you.

No phones. No appointments. No schedule, no glass wall between you.

Just the two of you. Skin to skin. Breath to breath.

His mouth moved across your collarbone, your shoulder, your chest—slow, devoted, like he had all the time in the world. And for once, maybe he did.

You reached down between your bodies, fingers trailing over his torso with reverence, until you found his belt. You unbuckled it with practiced ease, metal clicking softly in the quiet room. You pushed his pants down, your breath hitching as he helped you.

“Fucking hell” you blurted as you caught the sight of his hard and heavy cock. 

He stroked himself slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched your reaction—your gaze locked onto his cock, pupils blown, breath hitching. A bead of precum formed at the head and you gulped. There was a fair chance that he could split you in half, not only because of his cock but his size as a whole. 

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and he crawled onto the bed, his face inches from yours. His hands slid to your sides, fingers warm and sure against your skin.

He mirrored your movements, trailing down your waist until he reached the waistband of your pencil skirt—the one he’d seen you wear so many times. The one he’d fantasized about taking off, but never dared to touch.

Until now.

He didn’t hesitate.

He slid it down slowly, eyes locked on yours the whole time. The tension between you stretched, thick and warm and crackling.

And when the skirt hit the floor along with your panties, and he saw you like that—laid out for him, flushed, eyes dark with want—he exhaled like he’d finally, finally let himself breathe.

Your hands cupped his face, guiding him back to your mouth, and he settled between your thighs like he belonged there. Like he always had. Harry removed your panties tossing them across the room. 

His fingers rubbed along your folds, feeling the wet pooling in your cunt before curling inside, his lips neared your clit, kissing it softly before licking across your entire cunt, He lapped on your clit, groaning onto it. The feeling of his tongue and his mustache caused an electric shock down your spine, driving right onto his face. 

“I need you so bad” His voice deep as he added another finger, his mouth still on your clit making his words vibrate against you. 

You struggled to respond, breath catching in your throat—but you managed, voice low and trembling with want.

“What’s holding you back? We’re already in this.”

He looked up at you, mouth still on you, hands gripping your thighs like he needed to anchor himself to something.

Your words hit him like a match. The final green light.

And just like that, restraint vanished. Neither of you cared how this would turn out—how messy, how complicated, how reckless. Consequences could come later. Right now? You just needed each other.

Desperately.

He gripped your thighs tighter, stretching your legs wider as he pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched at the sudden movement. He aligned himself holding his heavy cock to your entrance and using the wetness to lube himself up before entering you. Your eyes locked as he pushed into you—slow, steady, deliberate.

His gaze didn’t leave yours, not even for a second, like he wanted to see all of it—your reaction, your unraveling, the way your mouth parted with a breathless moan.

Your face contorted with pleasure, head tipping back as the stretch overtook you. One hand flew to the sheets, clutching them tight as your body arched, trying to take more, feel everything.

He slid in fully, deep, until there was nothing left between you. Just heat and breath and that dizzying sense that everything had just shifted again—and this time, there was no going back. 

He finally moved—slow at first, steady, dragging his hips back just enough before pushing in again. Then he found his rhythm and hovered over you groaning against your neck, the sound low, guttural. Every thrust hit deep, every shift of his body pulled another breathless sound from your lips. Your hips rose to meet his, chasing every movement, matching his pace—desperate, shameless, hungry for more. You didn’t care how it looked or how it sounded. It was true. 

There were no sharp sounds, no declarations. Just soft gasps, broken moans, fingers digging into skin like you were afraid to let go. Afraid this was a dream. Afraid you’d wake up if you did.

“Harry… fuck,” you whined, digging your nails into his hair as you got closer to the height of pleasure, your walls spasming around himpulsing in tight, desperate waves that pulled a groan from deep in his chest. He wasn’t far behind.

 “Shit–“ he breathed, jaw clenched, his rhythm stuttering as your release crashed over you, coating him. 

Shudders wracked your body, hips arching into him as the pleasure overtook you. You felt it—wet, warm, everywhere—coating him, slick and overwhelming.

He tensed inside of you and followed with a rough, broken sound, thrusting deep one final time as he came undone inside you. Your cry was caught in his mouth, swallowed between kisses and the sound of skin against skin.

Your nails raked down his back, your legs tightening around him as the release wracked through you, relentless and blinding.

He groaned against your lips, his rhythm faltering as he gave in too—lost to you, to the feeling, to the way you came around him like your body had been waiting for this moment, and only this.

And when it was over—when the last shuddering breath passed between you, and his lips found that spot behind your ear again—you felt something settle in your chest.

Like this hadn’t just been inevitable. It had been waiting.

Everything about him felt real—the weight of his body, the warmth of his breath, the way he moved with you like he already knew you this way. Like maybe, he always had.

Every stroke, every kiss, every whispered breath between tangled limbs felt like a quiet confession neither of you had dared speak aloud. You were wrapped in him—in his scent, his voice, the slow, grounding pressure of his body against yours.

You shivered again—even in his warmth.

This wasn’t just crossing a line. This was burning it.

Then, without a word, he shifted beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist and gently turning you onto your side. His chest pressed to your back, steady and warm.

You felt his hand settle low at your stomach, fingers curling softly against your skin like he wasn’t ready to let you go. Like he wouldn’t.

His arm was heavy—comfortably so. It grounded you, pinned you in the best way. You couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

Just his breath at your neck. The quiet hum of the city outside. And sleep, finally pulling you under.

__________________________________

Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, painting long golden stripes across the sheets. You stirred before he did, blinking against the light, the warmth of it settling over your bare skin. The sheets were soft. His bed smelled like clean linen and cedar, something calm and clean and unmistakably him.

Turning your head, you found him beside you—still asleep. Or maybe just pretending. Either way, you took the moment. Let your gaze linger on his face, softened in sleep, free from the tension he always wore like armor. He looked younger like this. Softer. Still Harry—but not the boss version. Just him.

You didn’t move. You didn’t want to.

But your phone buzzed somewhere from the living room, and it pulled you back into reality like a hook.

He opened one eye slowly. “Don’t answer it.”

You turned back toward him. “It might be important.”

“Then let it be important later.”

You laughed, burying your face into the pillow. “You’re not helping me keep my job.”

“I am your job.”

You groaned. “You would say that.”

He reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear again, fingers trailing lightly along your jaw before settling at your shoulder. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Just looked at him, his eyes still soft with sleep but awake in a way that said he was fully here.

“Do you always wake up this smug?” you murmured, voice low and a little rough.

“Only when I’ve earned it,” he said, smiling faintly.

You shook your head, pressing your face into the pillow to hide your own grin, even as your leg brushed against his under the blanket. The air between you was warm but stretched—hovering in that space between comfort and the edge of a conversation neither of you had dared touch yet.

A quiet beat passed. 

“So… what happens now?”

He looked at you for a moment, the question lingering in the space between your bodies. Too big for right now. Too real.

He exhaled. “Let’s get coffee first.”

You let out a soft laugh. “You’re really gonna dodge the question with caffeine?”

“I’m not dodging. I’m delaying with style.” He sat up, stretching slightly. “Priorities. Coffee first, emotional unraveling later.”

You slipped out of bed a moment later, legs still a little unsteady, and padded toward the doorway, grabbing the first thing you saw—a folded Nirvana tee left on the edge of a chair. It smelled like him—clean, warm, something like cedar and sleep and skin. You tugged it on, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs as you walked barefoot into the kitchen.

Harry was already there, sleeves rolled up again, hair slightly messy, standing by the stove with a French press and two mugs on the counter. The smell of coffee wrapped around you like a second shirt.

“Hey,” he said, voice still rough with sleep. “I wasn’t sure how you take it, so... I went basic. Milk and sugar are there.”

You sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island, tucking your legs up beneath you. 

He chuckled softly and slid a mug toward you. “Make yourself at home.”

You took a sip, eyes on him as he leaned back against the counter, his own mug held in both hands. It felt oddly natural—like you’d done this before, like waking up in his apartment and drinking coffee together was part of some soft, familiar routine you’d already built in your head.

Except it wasn’t. This was new. Dangerous. Beautiful.

You stared into your coffee, letting the warmth settle into your palms, your shoulders beginning to loosen in the stillness between you. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was gentle, even comforting. The scene felt like it belonged. Him. You. Coffee. Morning light stretching across the floor.

It fit too well. 

And then, like something small tugged loose, the comfort began to unravel. Your breath caught in your chest. Your thoughts sharpened at the edges. This wasn’t routine. This wasn’t safe. You’d slept with your boss. You’d crossed a line and blurred it so deeply there might not be a way back.

Your fingers tightened around the mug, your body going still again—not frozen, just quiet, the kind of quiet that comes when a thought hits too fast, too sharp. He noticed. His voice softened when he spoke, like he was already reading the shift in you. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just set his mug down and stepped closer, resting one hand on the back of your chair—not quite touching, but close enough to feel. “We don’t have to name it,” he said, calm and even. “But I meant everything I said. And everything I did.”

You held his gaze, heart thudding, your breath catching somewhere between your ribs and your throat. “I meant it too,” you said quietly. “All of it.”

It wasn’t a full spiral. Not regret. Just a flicker of panic—the kind that comes after something good, something real. The kind that makes you question if maybe you dreamed the whole thing. But he caught it. And he soothed it. Not by promising anything, not by fixing it, but just by being steady. Present.

Because it wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t a mistake. And he knew that.

He nodded once. “Then we don’t panic.” His voice was calm, certain, like a soft line being drawn in the quiet. “We go to work,” he said simply. “We don’t pretend it didn’t happen. But we don’t have to define it right now either. We just—go slow. If that’s okay with you.”

You nodded. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly along your arm before resting there—warm, grounding. Not pulling you closer. Just there.

Neither of you moved after that. You sat quietly, shoulders barely touching, hands around your mugs, the sun crawling across the floor like it had all the time in the world. The coffee cooled slowly.

No pressure. No rush. Just a shared breath in the soft quiet of something beginning.

Hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing this!!

All support is welcomed 💕✨ REBLOGS, LIKES AND COMMENTS HELP THIS STORY GROW!

[harbours-lighthouse]

JASON TODD IN A RELATIONSHIP

This man will drive you up the wall—particularly in the beginning of the relationship.

He’s not good at communication, considering that that was never present in his life before he died and after he came back to life. 

That being said, I do think he, in some sort of subconscious way, is aware that there’s no communication. 

He’s somehow balancing on the thin line of being overly emotional and emotionally unavailable (hence, he drives you up the wall). 

When you first start dating, it’s hesitant. Slow and uncertain. There are many incidents where Jason, in all of his emotional maturity, believes that you must hate him. So he stops texting you. No longer calls. Never visits. And you’re left waiting, tearing yourself up every night wondering where he is, what you’ve done, and what’s going to happen. 

And each time, he comes back (a bit like a stray cat), and he asks if you can try again. 

Continuously, you have to remind him that there’s no reason for you to hate him—however, if he keeps leaving you like that, then there won’t be any more ‘trying again’. 

That kicked him into gear a bit, and made him realise that you’re not going to let his insecurities ruin you, but you don’t want them to ruin him either. You’re there for him, and you don’t hate him for the things he does, or what he has done. 

Again, a bit like a skittish stray cat, he starts warming up to the idea that you’re fully accepting of him (though his doubt lingers). 

As your relationship progresses, the more he begins to regulate his moods and emotions. That being said, his issues with Bruce and the rest of the vigilantes easily tip him over the edge, and he’s said many things in anger to you that have resulted in tears and strangled apologies. 

But things do get better, though it takes time, quite a bit of reassurance, and…possibly a nudge to therapy.

To clarify, however, getting Jason into therapy would be one of the most difficult achievements of your life, but insanely worth it. The conversation would open up painfully, and you’d lay it out plainly for him: he needs help in ways that you can’t provide, and if he’s not willing to put in the effort, the relationship will fall apart. 

This man, despite all his flaws, knows that he loves you. So he does it, but it’s never with himself in mind, but you instead. 

That never changes, unfortunately. 

Now this might seem a little depressing (he’s a depressing character), there is a lot of good in your relationship still, which is why it works out in the first place. 

You’re kind, smart, beautiful, lovely in a unique manner that can only be attributed to you—but you’re fiercely aware of your boundaries, which in the long run, helps heal Jason. 

Through you, Jason learns about the consequences of his actions, learns that not everything that’s good in his life will be ripped out from beneath him. He learns that those who want to stay will stay. He learns through you that he won’t taint everything with his past and his struggles, and through you he begins to see his own strengths, rather than continuing to tunnel vision on everything that’s ‘wrong’ with him. 

In terms of how well the rest of the Bats will know you, it would depend on the person themselves. Jason will do everything in his power to keep you away from Bruce, that’s for certain, but he might not have a choice when it comes down to Dick, Babs, Steph, maybe even Duke, and Damian and Tim will meet you on a whim (you love them, though they’re all really weird).

And after the trials and tribulations of the relationship, the both of you know each other like the back of your hands. You’re as familiar to Jason as the backwater laneways of Gotham are, and you could recite everything that you know about Jason in your sleep. There’s no stone unturned, no flaw unexposed, no secrets kept hidden. 

You’re Jason’s favourite person, and if the effort he puts into keeping you by his side doesn’t make that obvious, I don’t know what will. 

top divider credit: @/saradika-graphics © harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[magia-nera]

all wound up

── daryl dixon x fem!reader

summary: after barely escaping the outbreak, you find shelter outside of atlanta, with a group of survivors. someone catches your eye, but you don’t dare getting close.

era: season 1, at the quarry

warnings: not yet proofread!!! mentions of blood, curse words, lowkey mutual pining but more on reader’s side, implied age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and daryl’s age is canon to season 1 so late 30s-early 40s), daryl is possibly a bit ooc i hope not

word count: 2.7k

a/n: not my best work, but i just wanted to post something for daryl, i have like a ton of other ideas planned for him anyway :)

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

When the outbreak started your life did a complete 180. You were alone, away from your family, in a city you never knew while growing up, trying to navigate through life and adulthood and their ups and downs all on your own.

Every now and then you still thought about the night when the anchorman on the TV talked about this new virus spreading rapidly throughout the whole country, you remembered your ears perking up and the dinner on the stovetop being forgotten, all your attention was on the man’s words. You got scared, you thought ‘what the hell am I going to do?’, you thought about your mom and your siblings and hoped they were okay, you thought about your friend Amy and made the split second decision to head to her house. It ended up being the right thing to do, seeing as now you were sitting safe and sound in a camp on the outskirts of Atlanta, with other survivors, helping each other. Amy’s sister, Andrea, was home when the news broke out and you managed to escape with them, unscathed. The days you spent on your own made you tougher, the world you knew was long forgotten and you didn’t want to be a burden to the two sisters.

You never considered yourself weak before the outbreak – you never thought about this kind of stuff anyway, there was no point, right? But the situation unfolding required you to toughen up, so that’s what you did, what you tried doing. You helped the women with tasks at camp at first, like washing clothes and cooking for everyone, but eventually you were picked to go on runs, seeing as you were one of the few young adults in the camp. You were scared at first. Looking closely at what the men in the group did, you learnt a thing or two: you wanted to be able to survive, protect the others even. Andrea, whose presence made things easier for you, was also tasked with going on runs sometimes and you never left her side on those occasions.

There was one man in particular that caught your attention though.

Daryl couldn’t be more different from you. He was a redneck, a hunter and expert bowman, kept to himself, but wasn’t scared to speak his mind, get confrontational, even if it meant being hated. It all started as simple admiration, you strived to be worthy like him. You didn’t understand why everybody in the group barely tolerated him: sure, he could be somewhat hostile sometimes, but you could easily see the heart of gold hiding underneath the aggressive facade. He always shared the preys he hunted and he was skilled at shooting down walkers with his crossbow, defending the group on multiple occasions.

One day, while out on a run and paired together, you got swarmed by a herd. Daryl led you through endless alleys and helped you jump fences till you got to safety.

“T’was close,” he huffed, sweat beading on his forehead. You took one good look at him while he was distracted checking the surroundings: you shouldn’t have. That was the moment you noticed just how attractive he actually was, his arms were strong, his muscles flexed as he reloaded the crossbow with ease, the dust collecting on his dark shirt contrasted with his glistening skin. His scruffy look was charming. And after that day you never stopped stealing glances at him.

Your eyes found him with ease every night around the campfire, glancing at him in the dim light of the ambers, the orange hues made his features look somewhat softer. You wondered why he still wore that jackass sleeveless shirt even in the chilly October night breeze. Not that you minded.

Whenever he came back from runs on his motorcycle he looked almost like a god, the sun made his skin shine like gold, his hair tangled from the wind. His hands held the handlebar with ease, his biceps flexed when the bike came to a halt, you were mesmerised when he effortlessly slung his crossbow on one shoulder and the supply bag on the other.

Your heart jumped when, on the few occasions you did laundry, your hands found his bloodstained shirts, soaked with the smell of freshly turned earth, gasoline from his bike and cigarette smoke. You played with the fraying hem, thinking about him. Thinking about his skilled hands, the ease with which he skinned the preys he caught, the thrilled glint in his eyes after escaping walkers, how calm he looked when he was aiming his crossbow, the curve of his lips when he let a smug grin take over after getting a kill.

You never dared getting close. It wasn’t hard to understand that Daryl didn’t like people. He always kept to himself, interacting only with his older brother Merle, sometimes fighting, his tent sat distant from the rest of the group. Even when you were on runs, he barely talked, and it was only about the task at hand. It wasn’t too bad most days, but sometimes it became excruciating. But then again, Daryl was almost never at camp, always out hunting: you wouldn’t even have the time to make a move on him.

You always kept your distance, watching him attentively from afar, being careful of not getting caught. Was it twisted to want to be caught, hoping he’d take the hint and make the first move? You didn’t want to approach him first, sure that he would reject you. So watching him was the only thing you could do.

It got to the point that, whenever you got paired with Daryl to go on runs and you tried talking more, your nerves got the best of you. It was a bad habit of yours, hiding nervousness with rude remarks. You could only spit out mean words when you talked. In some sick way, you thought that riling him up would at least make him pay attention to you, which was better than being ignored while staring at him from afar.

You would bicker constantly, he would chew you out when you couldn’t fight off walkers all on your own, yet you would notice his gaze lowering from your eyes to your chest, barely covered by the lowest cut tank top you could find that day, that you purposely wore to hopefully get some reaction from him.

One time you were fiddling with some loose bullets shells, lying on the counter of a shoddy convenience store, while waiting for Daryl to break the lock that sealed the entrance to the warehouse.

“Can you just hurry up?” you whined.

“Come do it yerself if ya want it done so badly then,” he snarled back. “Don’t fuckin’ piss me off already.”

You groaned, deciding to leave it alone while mentally cursing yourself for even bringing it up. What reaction were you even expecting? He was right to be angry anyway, you were probably annoying him on top of being unhelpful.

Lost in thought, you almost didn’t even hear the loud clang that some cans made when you accidentally hit them.

“Could ya be any more stupid? Ya wanna attract a herd here or what?”

“Just shut the fuck up, it was an accident,” you bit your tongue.

The tension eased when you finally got into the warehouse and picked up enough supplies to last a week, you even managed to kill off a couple of walkers all by yourself. You secretly hoped that Daryl saw that, you wished he was impressed by your skills, but he said nothing about it. That day you left with a couple more purple hued bruises and a chest heavy with unease.

Daryl did see that though. He didn’t tell you but he thought you looked pretty damn hot too, sweaty from the Georgia heat, expertly stabbing them with your knife, without hesitation. He swears he doesn’t, but he steals glances at you from time to time. More often than he would like to admit. But he can’t help it when you look so pretty doing anything, effortlessly. In his eyes, you’re the coolest chick he’s ever met, always standing your ground, unapologetic and unafraid to speak your mind. Everyday, he wakes up hoping you’ll come to him and have something nice to say, but all he gets is snarky remarks on those rare occasions you’re with him. He starts believing you hate him, which makes things worse when he overhears him defending him from the others.

“He’s always so grumpy, like, okay we get it, you’re a lone wolf or whatever, but at least be nice about it.”

“Shut up, he’s actually kind. Maybe you just don’t deserve it,” your voice is like music to his ears. He actually blushed a little at your acknowledgment. He knew you had good judgment but this still managed to surprise him. He felt a little lighter that day, and the days following, knowing you had his back even if he didn’t ask you to.

He decided that it’s impossible that he likes you. Better yet, you don’t like him for sure, so it’s just better for him to ignore the topic at hand. That’s the only way he can get a wink of sleep at night, otherwise your face just won’t leave his thoughts. So he convinces himself that you hate his guts, and he doesn’t like you either, it’s settled. He can go back to thinking how his hunt will go tomorrow.

Until he finds himself stuck in the backseat of a tiny ass car, with you by his side and walkers snarling all around the vehicle.

It was supposed to be a quick run, scavenging a couple houses he found on his latest hunt, they looked untouched and he thought he could find supplies there. But on that day, a bunch of walkers came storming from out of the woods all around, and with the house still some yards away, your best choice was hopping in the car to come up with a plan.

You brought your knees up in front your face, hands laying on your leather boots, “so what now?”

There was — surprisingly — no irritation in your voice, you sounded more worried than anything.

“We can make a quick exit maybe,” he mumbled, “you try distractin’ ‘em and I shoot ‘em.”

“No, that’s too risky. I probably can’t even make it two inches from here before they get me,” you replied, checking the window on your side. Glancing at you, Daryl got an idea.

“Do ya think we can get them if we lower the windows jus’ a crack?”

“I mean, maybe, I guess we can try. We can roll them up if things get ugly,” you grabbed the handle. Thank God they were manual.

“On my count, ‘kay?” he shoots you a complicit look, before counting down.

The glass was painted crimson from the blood spilling at the hands of your blade. You lurched back when the walkers manage to get their fingers through the crack, feeling Daryl’s leather clothed back flush against your own.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the last walker fell down.

You turned to look at Daryl, his face mere inches from yours.

“We never speak of this again, do ya hear?” he whispered, his bated breath fanning your lips, making your blood rise up to your face. You simply nodded, too shaken by his proximity. You didn’t want him to notice the heartthrob in your voice, nor see the blush that painted your cheeks.

Some rotten wooden fence posts stood between you and the porch. The halls were quiet, except from the persistent creaking of the floorboards beneath your soles.

A few walkers lingered in the living room, but Daryl quickly took care of them. You heard the thumps of bodies hitting the furniture, lamps and other objects falling on the ground and shattering. You rushed to check on him, and your intuition was right, because he was standing there, heavy breaths shaking his shoulders, holding his wrist.

“Are you okay?” you asked, barely whispering.

“Yeah, don’t worr- ouch.”

“Here, let me see,” you extended your hand, signalling him to let you check the extent of his injury.

Your eyes widened when you saw the red gash, vibrant on his skin, “how the fuck did this happen?”

“One of ‘em sons of bitches had a knife,” Daryl felt his skin burn where your fingers were touching him. Your dainty hand held his arm like it was the most fragile and precious thing in the world. He liked this aspect of you, despite being so strong and fierce, you couldn’t help but be delicate with anything you did.

“Let me patch you up. There must be something here, I’ll check the bathroom,” your nerves were making you shake when you realised your hand was still holding his.

“Nah, I’m okay, don’t need ya to fix anythin’,” he muttered, barely audible over the clanking of pills bottles in the cabinet you were already rummaging through.

“Shut up and just let me take care of you,” you came back with your loot: an half empty bottle of disinfectant and some band-aids. “This is all that was left.”

The swaying of the linen curtains in the breeze was the only background noise enveloping the moment. The disinfectant stung like a bitch and Daryl even flinched a little, which made you chuckle. He could be so childlike sometimes, even in endearing ways, and he probably didn’t even realise.

“Here you go, almost as new,” you asserted proudly, inspecting your pretty decent work. Daryl took a peek at his hand, now covered in probably more band-aids he had ever used in his whole life, “thanks, I guess.”

He stood up, eyes zeroing in on yours.

“It’s okay, you know, to need a little help sometimes,” you mumbled. What the fuck had gotten into you, spitting out sappy crap like that? Get a hold of yourself, damn.

“What the hell are ya sayin’?” yeah, even Daryl was utterly confused now.

“Nothing, it’s just… you’re always on your own, I think you could ask for help sometimes, I’m here if you ever need anything,” your mind was in the gutter, you felt your brain turn into literal mush from how small the distance between you and the man was. His eyes were carefully scanning your face, but you couldn’t hold the eye contact anymore, deciding instead to stare at the room behind him.

“Why d’ya even care?” was he fucking stupid?

“Are you fucking stupid? Do I need a reason to care about a member of my group?” you immediately but your tongue, there you go again with the attitude.

The distance seemed to grow smaller, you could feel the earthy essence emanating from his skin, with a hint of blood underneath. Your eyes fused to his.

“Yer the first one to do so,” his voice was barely a whisper at this point.

“Maybe it’s cause I fucking like you?” fuck. That was the moment you realised you were totally, completely fucked. You didn’t want to confess. For a plethora of reasons, starting with the age gap, which you for sure didn’t mind, but were worried he cared about, and ending with the fact you convinced yourself that he did dislike you. How were you even going to face him after today?

“Forget it,” you scooted back, trying to get away from the awkwardness that permeated the now stuffy room.

“Say that again,” his commanding tone still managed to get you hot and bothered.

“I like you okay? But please just- forget it. Let’s get the job done and head back.”

Broken glass creaked under his soles as he took a step closer to you, eliminating the distance between your bodies. He grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this,” another feathery kiss, before letting go of your fingers, “I thought ya hated me or somethin’.”

“Yeah, I get why you’d think that,” you lowered your head, “still, I can’t believe you didn’t know I liked you, I thought it couldn’t be more obvious.”

“I had my suspicions, just couldn’t believe it, is all,” his voice was soft, joy spilling through, not even trying to hide it, “such a pretty girl like you. Couldn’t wrap my mind ‘round it.”

“Daryl,” you whispered, receiving a hum from him as a response, “can I kiss you?”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

[writeriguess]

Hiii! Can I request a Katsuki x fem reader where they're both top ten pro heroes, being in their late twenties, and she realizes she's pregnant, but is very scared and stressed when she discovers it cuz she's worried about her carrier and her and Katsuki already agreed on not having any kids, cuz it could be dangerous for the kids and wouldn't fit into their busy schedules? Also they're already like 6-7 years married? And so she's been avoiding him and Katsuki could tell immediately something's wrong with her and when he confronts her about it she breaks down and he comforts her? Angst + fluff? Also both of them have been rethinking their decision to not have kids but never brought it up cuz they never admit it to themselves and were also nervous that the other didn't want kids.

Thank uuuu!!! <3

Unspoken Wishes

You’d always thought of yourself as fearless. As a pro hero, you’d faced death countless times, stood against villains that could’ve ended you in a second, and yet, none of that compared to the sheer terror gripping your chest as you stared down at the little white stick in your hands.

Two pink lines.

Your stomach twisted painfully. You felt like you were going to be sick, and maybe that was just the pregnancy symptoms kicking in, or maybe it was the sheer weight of the realization settling over you like an avalanche.

You were pregnant.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You and Katsuki had been so careful, so sure that kids weren’t in the cards for you. It wasn’t that you hated the idea—well, maybe before, when you were younger, you both thought it was impossible to raise a kid in your kind of life. Being in the top ten of Japan’s pro heroes meant your schedules were packed, your work dangerous. The idea of bringing a child into that chaos felt cruel.

And yet… somewhere along the years, as the both of you had grown together, built a life together, a part of you started questioning if that decision was still the right one.

But you never said a word.

And now? Now, you didn’t even have the choice to ignore it anymore.

Your hands trembled as you set the test down on the bathroom counter, leaning heavily against the sink as you tried to control your breathing. Katsuki would know something was wrong. He always did. Even after all these years, he could read you like an open book.

Which is why, for the past few days, you’d been doing your best to avoid him.

It was ridiculous, really, but you didn’t know how to face him. You weren’t ready for whatever his reaction would be—disappointment? Anger? Resentment? What if he looked at you like this was a mistake? Like you were a mistake for letting this happen?

So you started leaving for work before he woke up, staying out later under the excuse of extra patrols. You answered his texts late, kept your conversations brief, and pretended not to notice the growing frustration in his voice.

But Katsuki wasn’t an idiot. And avoiding him was about as effective as trying to stop a wildfire with a single cup of water.

You had barely stepped into your shared apartment that night when you felt it—the tension in the air was suffocating. You set your keys down, swallowing hard as you toed off your boots, trying to brace yourself for the inevitable.

And then his voice cut through the silence.

“The fuck is going on with you?”

You froze.

He was standing in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, his sharp red eyes locked onto you. His hair was still damp from a shower, messy and unstyled, and the black tank top he wore only made the tension in his broad shoulders more obvious.

He was pissed.

“You gonna keep actin’ like I don’t exist, or are you finally gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Your throat tightened. “Katsuki, I—”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t even try to tell me it’s nothing. You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been avoidin’ me for days. Not answerin’ my calls, sneakin’ out before I wake up. What the hell is goin’ on?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your entire body trembling. The weight of everything—the fear, the uncertainty, the overwhelming emotions—was pressing down on you all at once, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I—I’m pregnant.”

The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them.

A heavy silence followed.

Katsuki didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. But you saw it—the flicker of surprise in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know how.

And then, just as quickly as it came, the shock faded, and he exhaled sharply. “Shit.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket. “Yeah. Shit.”

Katsuki ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched tight. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t angry. But the look on his face was unreadable, and that was almost worse.

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” you whispered. “I was just… scared. We agreed, Katsuki. We agreed we weren’t gonna have kids. That it wasn’t safe, that our jobs—” Your voice broke, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to hate me for this.”

Katsuki swore under his breath, and before you could react, he was in front of you, gripping your face with both hands. His touch was firm but gentle, his thumbs brushing away the tears that slipped down your cheeks.

“The fuck makes you think I’d hate you?” His voice was rough, but there was something else there too—something raw, something that made your chest ache. “You’re my goddamn wife. The person I love more than anything. And yeah, we agreed on not havin’ kids, but—” He swallowed hard, his thumbs stroking your skin like he was trying to ground himself. “But lately, I’ve been thinkin’ maybe that ain’t what I want anymore.”

Your breath hitched. “You… what?”

He huffed, looking away for a second like he hated admitting it. “I didn’t say anything ‘cause I didn’t wanna force it on you. I thought you still felt the same.”

Your chest tightened. “I thought you still felt the same.”

His grip on you softened, his hands slipping down to rest against your waist. “Guess we’re both a couple of dumbasses, huh?”

A watery laugh bubbled past your lips, and he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

For the first time in days, the fear that had been eating you alive started to fade.

“You’re really okay with this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Katsuki scoffed. “Tch. ‘Course I’m not okay with it. I’m fuckin’ terrified. But we’ll figure it out.” He rested his forehead against yours, his hands sliding around to press against the small of your back. “We always do.”

And just like that, the dam broke. You buried your face in his chest, gripping the fabric of his tank top as the sobs you’d been holding back came spilling out.

Katsuki didn’t let go. He didn’t tell you to stop crying, didn’t act like it was something to be ashamed of. He just held you, his arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

When your sobs finally quieted, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re gonna be okay, baby.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through teary eyes. “Promise?”

He smirked, the same cocky, confident grin you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. “Yeah. I promise.”

And for the first time since you saw those two pink lines, you finally let yourself believe it.

[plethorawrites]

"Haven't I given enough?"

Character: Jason Todd x Reader

Content: Hurt with comfort

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: First post?!? I've written a few of these and published them anonymously on AO3 but figured I'd give it a shot on here as well.

Jason was troubled. It was a label that others had branded him with, but one he never tried to deny either. He thought it was true. He was screwed up, his body marked by years of scars and his mind equally as traumatized with the kind of scars you couldn’t see but definitely knew were there. It didn’t mean he couldn’t be kind or gentle, especially to you, but sometimes, the only way he really knew how to cope was through doing something physical.

At first, that was running, or hitting something. Even going to the salvage yard outside of town to scream for a while. That’s what he had always done when things got really bad. Then, slowly he realized you’d be there and you could take him. Literally. You could tolerate him fucking all his stress out through you. Using you.

Sometimes he felt bad about it, but you always seemed so sure that it was okay. That even if he happened to leave bruises (like he usually did) they never hurt too bad. You enjoyed too, so he kept doing it. Not often, just on the particularly bad nights.

Nights like the one he just had.

When he slammed the door shut behind him all the lights were off in the apartment and he was worried you might have been asleep. He really hated the idea of waking you up, but God, he was so...unexplainably upset. Angry, frustrated, sad in ways his mind couldn’t quite comprehend.

His mind was a mess and to be completely honest, he was so worked up he couldn’t figure out what to do. Kicking something, screaming, maybe crying. No, definitely not crying. Even if he could feel a few tears pricking in the back of his eyes he choked them down, refuses to let them fall. Instead, he walked towards the bedroom, just hoping you were still awake.

You were, of course. But even if you had been asleep, the door slamming would have woken you up.

He pushed the door open and his expression immediately softened upon seeing you, sitting up in bed, wearing one of his shirts.

“You’re home late,” you remarked, closing your—his—book and setting it on the nightstand. “Did something happen?”

He knew you knew something was wrong. You could always tell. But you were too nice to outright tell him how shitty he looked and instead sat up even further, causing some of your hair to fall over your shoulder, grazing your collarbone.

“Nothing I want to talk about,” Jason replied. He hated talking about his feelings in general, but would do it occasionally, under the right circumstances. These were not them.

He kicked his shoes off by the bedroom door and started pulling his clothes off as he walked towards the bed, dropping his gloves on the floor alongside his pants and the rest of his things. He could see the shift in your demeanor; you knew what he wanted. To forget, to let you take away all of his anger and pain so he didn’t have to deal with it for the night. He wanted to get lost in you and forget about how bad everything hurt. Physically and emotionally.

He sat on the bed, instantly reaching for your face, pulling you towards him, kissing you harshly. His teeth scraped yours, noses bumping against each other as the tightness of his shoulder’s coiled further, the action seeming to make things worse. Still, he didn’t stop.

Jason pressed his other hand to the back of your head, pushing himself further into you as your hands instinctively began to roam his abdomen. “Bad night?” you mumbled just before he bit down on your lip, tearing a bit of skin.

“Bad night,” he responded succinctly, grabbing your waist, squeezing it tightly. His head was a jumble of loud thoughts, for some reason harder to ignore than usual but he kept trying.

Reaching for the bottom of your shirt, he pulled it up over your head you let him. To his dismay, you had a bra on under it, and panties too.

Wrapping your arms around his neck as he laid you down on the pillows, his body pressing into yours firmly as your lips locked again for a moment. Jason kissed down your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin eliciting a gasp.

For a split-second, the voices were quiet. They always were when he heard you moaning and whimpering or saying his name over and over. The pain always stayed though, but usually he could tolerate it if he just focused on the motions, on pushing you as deep into the mattress as possible, on rutting his hip into yours until he physically ached from something other than sore bones and old scars.

His hands groped the soft flesh of your waist and hips as he tugged at the top of your underwear, his hand slipping inside.

Jason froze.

His hand still in your underwear, his lips paused against your neck, breathing heavily as the heavy silence made his ears ring.

That had never happened before. Ever. But in that moment, he couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

He couldn’t do this with you, not tonight.

Quickly, he removed his hand, pushing himself off you until he was sitting up. He couldn’t breathe. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller than he always remembered it being. Had it always been so cramped? Or this hot, for that matter. Did you turn the heater up tonight?

Jason swallowed, his throat feeling dry and heart hammering in his chest. “I- I’m sorry,” he apologized as he got up. “I need to get some water.”

“Wait a minute-” you sat up as quickly as he had, grabbing his wrist. You knew he could easily pull away, but he didn’t. He didn’t turn to face you either, though. “What’s wrong?”

Jason’s chest heaved as he tried to breathe, it felt tight, it ached. He hated it. “I just can’t do that tonight,” he managed to say.

He remained—mostly—calm as he kept his eyes glued to the floor. He hated to envision the look on your face. Was it confusion? Was it anger? Something worse, like pity? He didn’t know which of those options seemed preferable.

“Okay,” you agreed easily, tugging on his wrist lightly. “We don’t have to do anything,” you assured him. “Just come lay down.”

He shook his head, swallowing again, his heart still thumping rapidly. “No- no I have stuff to do, I—”

“Jay,” you said calmly, the sound of his voice soothing him slightly. “You’ve been working all night and it’s late. Just lay down.”

Jason bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at the ground. He could feel it, the tears pricking in his eyes again. It had been like that all night and each time he kept pushing them down and now he heard your voice, so gentle and sweet and it made them reappear again.

He took a deep breath. You wouldn’t let this go. If he left the room, you’d follow him and stand with him in the kitchen while he drank his water. He didn’t want that. He wanted this day to be over as soon as humanly possible.

But... “I’m not tired,” was all that came out of his mouth.

Exhaling, Jason turned around, barely able to look at you. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you with your haired messed up and your neck covered in two or three small bruises on your neck, your chest falling and rising as you caught your breath as well.

Should he hand your shirt back? Apologize again? Leave?

Before he could decide, you were sitting up onto your knees, reaching for him, trying to pull him back towards the bed. Back towards you. He reluctantly let himself be moved, taking a heavy step closer, then another. He sat back down, his gaze falling to the blanket.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, even though you both knew it was futile. He shook his head, his jaw clenched tightly to remind himself to keep it together. At least in front of you. You held his hand, your thumb swiping over the back of his knuckle as you nodded slowly, taking your other hand and placing it on his shoulder. “Just lay down,” you suggested.

Jason nodded and tried to move to his side of the bed, but you wouldn’t let go of his hand. Instead, you gently pulled him forward, laying back down, insisting he follow. He hovered above you, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to hurt you.

“Lay down,” you repeated gently, your eyes softening even more.

“I don’t wanna crush you,” Jason confessed.

“You won’t,” you assured him.

He hesitantly lowered himself down, pressing more and more of his body weight against you. He could feel the mattress dipping as he did. He’d pushed you into it plenty of times, but not like this.

With his entire body weight on top of you, he exhaled, propping his chin on your chest, staring at you for a few seconds, not quite sure where else to look or what else to do with his hands or legs.

You fixed that.

Jason could feel you tangle your legs with his, wrapping your arms around him, one of your hands finding the locks of his hair to fuss with while the other traced random shapes on his shoulder.

Suddenly, the heat from before that felt like it was suffocating him evaporated, replaced by the warmth of your bare skin against him. He carefully wrapped his arms around you. He’d sure they would go numb soon, after all his entire weight, plus yours were laying on top of them now that they were under your back.

He wondered if that was uncomfortable for you, if maybe he should pull them away and just with them by his sides but before he could ask your hand was tugging at his hair, gently pressing his face into your neck. Not to kiss or mark it. Just to lay there, to breathe you in and hold you.

“I’ve got you,” you promised him, running your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

Jason nuzzled your neck slightly, inhaling deeply, the scent of you filling his senses. Before he knew what was happening, the tears in his eyes started to fall without warning.

He didn’t have the chance to fight them at first, a few dampening your neck, but the second he realized what was happening he pulled away, pressing his forehead against the valley of your breasts while taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “Sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. The sound was so pathetic it made him hate himself even more.

You shushed him gently, still playing with his hair as your other hand laid flat on his back. “It’s okay,” you assured. “You’re okay.”

That was the final straw, the supportive tone of your voice broke the dam he had built and his tears started to fall as he shook his head. “I’m not okay,” he confessed, his words spoken into your skin. “Nothing is okay.”

Your heart broke for him, feeling his grip on you tighten even more. You let your hand fall from his hair, wrapping around him, trying to pull him closer or at the very least keep him from leaving like you knew he was contemplating doing.

What could you say that would help? Nothing seemed good enough, so you just let him bury his face in your chest, holding him as he shook from the tears, muttering apologies and words of self-deprecation.

“I’m right here,” you swore. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. Not to me.”

Each word you spoke was like a dagger to his chest, the soft reassurance and whispered praise mixed with how firm your grip on him was made his chest swell as all the pain he refused to let himself feel hit him all at once with an overwhelming force.

Jason hated the burning in his chest, the sting in his eyes, the weakness he felt. Most of all, he hated feeling all of this in front of you. But more than that, he refused to pull away or deprive himself of your touch. He needed it to damn badly. It was the only thing keeping him afloat most days.

“It hurts,” he told you. “So badly. All the time.”

Your arms tightened around him again as you tried to keep yourself from crying with him, the sound of his sobs escaping making your heart hurt more with each failed attempt to make himself stop.

“Let it,” you breathed, resting your jaw on the top of his head as he hid his face in your breasts. “Just for tonight.”

Feeling the pain seemed like a foreign concept to him, but you made it sound so appealing, to just let himself feel weak. Just this once. Just for tonight. He could do that. The only reason why was because you were holding him, comforting him as the pain in his chest grew and grew until he was nearly hyperventilating.

Once again, you were shushing him, your hand softly stroking his hair. “Breathe,” you murmured, inhaling deeply, hoping he could feel it while laying on you. “I know it’s hard, I know it hurts. Just breathe.”

Jason sniffled, taking a shaky breath, timing it at the same time as your own deep inhale and holding a few seconds like you did before exhaling.

“Again,” you whispered, your nails trailing up and down his spine in a soothing motion. He listened and you could feel his body calming down just a little. “Just like that.”

His continued to cry, this time much softer. Like a residual that he needed to get out. Your skin now wet with his tears, but it didn’t matter much.

You placed a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you,” came out in a small whisper as you nuzzled the dark locks of his hair. “So much.”

Jason sniffled again, lifting his head to look at you. He was ashamed to. He felt weak and pathetic and hated to think of you seeing him like that, but he needed to say something and he needed to see your dace when he did.

You could see the redness in his eyes, a stark contrast to the dark purple circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. His nightmares had been particularly bad lately, no doubt contributing to the mountain of problems that led to his breakdown.

“I don’t know how you can love me when I’m this messed up,” he confessed, his voice sounding vulnerable and raw from crying.

You pushed the white streak in his hair away from his face, gently running the back of your knuckles over his cheek. “Everyone is messed up, baby,” you told him quietly. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Jason’s hands had gone numb underneath your back, so he couldn’t feel them, but he was fairly certain he was trying to squeeze you harder. That’s what he thought he’d be doing, at least.

He dropped his head, kissing the middle of your clavicle where your collarbones met. Just once. Softly. He could the salt from his tears on your skin and it made them prick in his eyes again. He didn’t fight them as hard this time.

Laying his head in between your breasts, he inhaled and exhaled, closing his eyes. Another tear rolled down his cheek and he let it, choosing to instead focusing on the feeling of your skin. Your bare stomach against his, your arms around him, your nails scratching his scalp and back.

This wasn’t what he wanted when came home tonight. But falling asleep in your arms, using your chest as a pillow, listening the sound of your heartbeat and feeling the steady rhythm of your breathing was so much better.

[bbieangel]

Sticky

Joel Miller x F!Reader (18+)

mdni please

You and Joel find another way to make the summer heat more bearable.

tags: smut (duh), food play (popsicle), anal play, creampie, unprotected p in v (do not! do this! pls!), kind of? oral (f receiving), praising, dirty talk (joel doesn't know how to shut up and we love him for that), mentions of gagging (once), reader is abled, afab reader. joel is 20 years older. idk if I forgot anything else.

word count: 9.2k

a/n: this is just another level –for me, at least– of things I wouldn't normally write. please take my phone away? thanks. I think I was possessed when I came up with this. anyways! hope you enjoy.

this was inspired by If You Like Piña Coladas by @gutsby ! it was amazingly written, I loved it and after reading it I came up with this idea. <3

as always, please enjoy and lmk what you think! reblogs, likes and comments are always deeply appreciated 🫶🏻

It all started when you were out on patrol, scavenging and rummaging through abandoned places, looking for supplies to take back to Jackson.

"Anything, really." Maria told you, as the warmer weather was approaching and you needed anything that would help keep people cool. Especially the elders, kids and babies.

Could a horse carry a whole fan back to Jackson? Not possibly. So Joel got to disassemble it while you took the opportunity to look through every drawer, cabinet and box.

"Joel, look!" You said, holding up some molds. They were the kind that you would fill up with juice and fruit, then put the sticks in them to make a popsicle. Maybe it wouldn't keep you cool, but it was a nice distraction.

Joel chuckled as he saw them. He remembered making those with Sarah every summer in a desperate attempt to keep his daughter in a somehow manageable mood, as she hated the heat and made her irritable. You could see the shimmer in his eyes, the kind that showed up every time he thought of his daughter. He has recently started to open up about her, and you didn't really push him to do it: just let him.

"We should keep those." He replied. "Maybe try making some back at home."

The idea sounded fantastic, and there were more molds as you kept scavenging. Maybe you could even make them and offer them at the town hall for people to feast on while they fought the intense rays of sun.

Once back home, you got to work. Joel helped by squeezing the oranges as well as cutting up strawberries and apples, the kitchen ending up a fruity mess. But you didn't mind, if anything, it made your heart flutter at the sight. It was domestic, tender, to be cooking together. Making a snack to make the summer heat a little more bearable for the both of you.

You set them inside the fridge and honestly, forgot about them until two days later until Joel brought them up. The two of you were plopped on the couch, fanning yourself with magazines as you tried to pay attention to the TV with that old DVD player plugged into it, playing a movie Joel had made you watch more times that you could count on.

You were distracted, and you knew it. And he would be a liar if he said he wasn't. Your cause of distraction? The way Joel's cheeks were slightly flushed, sweat trickling down his tanned neck, how the popsicle would drip down his veiny hands. How he would lick it, God, why couldn't he lick you instead? And he was suffering from the same twisted thoughts. The way your lips would wrap around the popsicle.. he was almost sure you were doing it on purpose. Pushing it inside your mouth and pulling it out with a plop! He could think of the times you'd done that with his cock before, the image being burned inside his eyelids.

He couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't pretend he wasn't affected by you.

"It take you that long to finish that thing?" He spoke up, his voice slightly hoarse from hiding his desire for too. damn. long.

"What do you mean?"

You asked as you bit into it and chewed a smile piece of the ice thing, then swallowed it. His eyes followed the movement of your throat and oh, you knew.

He wanted to erase that shit-eating grin off your face with the tip of his cock, smearing his precum all over your—

"You know what I mean. You're doing it on purpose."

"And you aren't?" You leaned forward, and that made him feel like he'd been caught red-handed. Truth was that, yes, he had been slurping at the thing like he would swallow your juices whenever he found himself on his favorite place on earth: between your legs.

"What if I am?"

"What if I am too?"

The silence between you grew thick, like a string that was taunt with too much tension. Until he snapped it, grabbing the popsicle and shoving it into your mouth. You tried to protest by whining his name.

"Shut up." He spoke as he quickly worked to take off your shorts. He pushed them down and immediately placed his head between your legs, making you open your mouth so much that the popsicle almost fell. He caught it and put it back into your mouth.

"Keep suckin' it, sweetheart. Don't stop 'til I tell ya so."

And you obliged, a small smile on your face as you loved experimenting new things with your man. He licked a long stripe over your damp underwear, making you close your legs around his head. He was quick to separate them and nuzzle his nose against the cotton of it, inhaling your scent. You would be embarrassed if he hadn't done it like a hundred times before. It was nothing new.

"Joel.." You whined, almost pleaded as you gripped his hair. You kept eating the popsicle, licking and slurping at it to provoke him even more. And did he notice.

He looked up at you, eyes dark from his pupils occupying almost his whole irises. He took a finger and pushed at your entrance, penetrating you with your underwear.

"You take what I give you." He reminded you. Your mouth felt open at the sudden contact, aching to be filled. Some of the juice spilled down your chin and onto your chest, and he looked at it like it was the most attractive, sexy thing he'd ever seen. He pumped his fingers a couple of times before his patience broke.

"Damn it, darlin'. I swear I'm tryin' to take my time but today just won't be the case." He spoke, before pushing down his own clothes and your underwear flew God knows where.

He sat you on his lap, pressing you down against the evidence of the effect you had on him. Gently, never being rough, pushed your legs open with his knees and held you like that.

"Oh, look at 'er.. Already cryin' for me, baby?"

He teased, and brought two of his fingers at your slick. You squirmed on his lap, breathing ragged as you tried to find something to hold onto. But he didn't let you.

Instead, with those two fingers, he parted your lips open and looked down at your glistening cunt. It was gaping, closing around air as if it was already preparing itself for the stretch that Joel's length would be.

But.. he didn't do it. Not yet. He pulled the popsicle out of your mouth and pressed it against your hole. Your eyes widened and you gasped for air at the cold sensation, telling him that he couldn't do that, that it was wrong, that—

"Beggin' to be filled, isn't she?" He murmured, hot breath against your ear. He didn't really care about you trying to be cautious, he knew that deep down you didn't care about that either. You wanted to be filled, and he was a man that took your wishes seriously. He placed the popsicle in front of you so you could see it before he slowly trusted it inside of you. You cried out and he hushed you softly.

"Oh, I know, I know." He cooed at you. "She'll get used to it. Now take it."

And you trembled, fighting the internal battle of pulling his hand away or letting him fuck you senseless with a popsicle. The sticky, orange, freezing cold stick was melting inside of you. And every time Joel pulled it out and pushed it back down, some would drip out of your hole. Juices mixed with whatever blend of fruit you poured into those molds, all dripping down to the floor.

You could sense Joel's eyes locked on it, his breath becoming more labored than he would like to admit. He would beg to clean up that mess with his own tongue if it meant tasting your tangy, slightly sour slick.

"Takin' it so good, princess. Look at you. 's it feel good?" He asked, whispering against your ear. You couldn't see him but you knew that he looked pussy drunk, that grin on his face that told you he was high just from watching you take a popsicle or whatever he pushed inside of you.

You were a mess. Hair sticking to your forehead as the old ceiling fan wasn't strong enough to cool down any of you. Your own back felt sticky and hot against Joel's chest. But did he mind? No. He loved every liquid that would come out of you, even your sweat. He had eaten you out after being hours on patrol, sweat pooling in every fold of your body. But he just couldn't wait until you showered. That summed up how little Joel cared about any of that stuff.

Your head fell back against his shoulder and you shut your eyes closed as he stretched you further with the popsicle, the sounds were almost enough to make you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. They were almost pornographic, and you felt Joel's cock twitching underneath your ass.

"Joel—Please!" You cried out. "I want it. Please. I can—"

The popsicle was shoved into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue and making you gag softly as he went a little too deep. You could taste yourself in it, and it turned you on even more. Joel was tired of your cries, he would give you what he wanted when he wanted it.

"Hold it." He commanded and you held the popsicle, drool dripping out of it and into your chest, making an orange mess.

With his hands now free, he pushed your hips forward and up, lining the red, unattended tip of his dick against your entrance. You squirmed and cried, voice muffled by the long, cold stick.

"Shh, sh, sh. I got you, sweetheart."

I whispered and pulled you down against it with one swift move, having little to no mercy with your aching hole. He pushed on your lower back and you leaned forward as he started moving his hips deliberately, kissing your cervix every time he went up. He moaned at the sight of orange juice still pouring out of you, coating his cock along with your slick.

"What a sight, baby. I bet.."

He took the popsicle out of your mouth, and you panted for air. Your moans and soft cries filled the room as he filled you, stuffed you full to leave you limping for a week.

"..It'll look prettier like this." You almost didn't hear him, the pleasure overtaking you.. *almost*. But he made sure you did, at least, feel him when he pushed the popsicle into your rosebud, making the small hole stretch around it. He whimpered at the sight, something he never did. You gasped, holding onto the coffee table in front of you for dear life as you could swear you saw your soul leaving your body for good.

The squelching sounds, juices dripping everywhere making a mess around you two, was enough to make you near your orgasm. He pumped the thing in and out at the same rhythm as he raised his hips. You swore you'd never felt more full in your life, warm and cold at the same time in different places. He stared in awe, watching both of your holes swallow both him and the popsicle smoothly.

When Joel noticed that you were near, he picked up the pace of both: the popsicle that entered your anus with ease, melting and filling you to the brim, and his cock that you could swear you felt on your stomach.

"Thatta girl.. milk my cock, sweetheart. Yeah, good fucking girl."

He babbled nonsense, an indicator that he was close too. With not one, not two, but three thrusts he gripped your hips, biting down –gently– onto your shoulder as he painted your walls white with his seed. You could feel your legs twitching as his body trembled, your name coming out of his mouth in soft prayers. You followed quickly after him, closing your walls around his length in a way that almost got it hard again. You stayed there, bodies still intertwined and covered in fruit juices, panting for air until you both came back to reality.

He then scooped you up into his arms and carried you upstairs. He would clean up the mess later, he said as he guided you both into the shower. Once there, he made sure to clean up every dip and crevice of your body while you felt your eyelids drooping. He caressed your back gently and pressed soft kisses against your forehead and shoulders while rubbing you dry, making sure you were taken care of and never felt like any encounter was just to please him. Then, he carried you to bed and cuddled up against you, placing your head on his chest and running his fingers through your hair gently, like he always did to soothe you.

"We gotta make those more often. You know.. to survive the heat."

He murmured with a smirk as you drifted off to sleep. And all you could wonder was how the fuck did a man twenty years older than you have the stamina of a beast.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

AN: Annnd we're back! Buckle up guys, because if you thought Nancy was fucking up before you have no idea lolololol

Transcript under the cut

Nancy Narrates: [Three weeks had gone by since the holidays. I was starting to see less of Vanessa, who was constantly busy with her work]

Nancy Narrates: [I tried my to hide how much I missed her around but I was certain my yearning was written all over my face]

Queenie: [hums absently] The holiday issue of the foundation’s newsletter is late. No surprise, it was late last year as well.

Queenie: Did you fire your stylist, Nancy? You’re not even coordinated with your husband and sons, it’s as if they’ve plucked a stranger off the street and had you pose together.

Geoffrey: With all due respect, Nancy looks amazing. She always does. She puts a great deal of effort into how she presents herself in front of the press.

Queenie: Looking the part is the point, Geoffrey. Regardless if she is standing CEO, she is a wife and mother first. I've mentioned this to her countless times, it’s as though she's still a little girl.

Geoffrey: [whispers] Hey. You looked amazing, Nancy. You always do.

Jonathan: Can we play in the courtyard, Grandma?

Queenie: Of course you can, my darling. I was just looking over your holiday photos, and you looked so very handsome, Jonathan.

Malcolm: And me? What about me!

Queenie: [frowns] Where on Earth did you get this...this girlish necklace from?

Malcolm: Mommy’s best friend got it for me for Christmas.

Queenie: [rolls eyes] Ah. Right. The movie star.

Malcolm: Auntie V isn’t a movie star.

Queenie: And who exactly is Auntie V?

Jonathan: Mommy’s friend from school, Auntie Vanessa.

Queenie: Villareal?

Nancy: I- D-didn’t you boys want to play in the um, in the courtyard?

Queenie: Geoffrey. I trust that you are doing your part by keeping your wife aligned with the values of our faith, yes? I’d hate to see her fall into old habits.

[phone rings]

Vanessa: Hello?

Nancy: Hi.

Vanessa: Hi Nancy. How are you, love?

Nancy: Miserable. I’m having breakfast at my mother’s. [chuckles softly]

Vanessa: Oh fuck. [laughs] That sucks, I’m sorry babes.

Nancy: [sighs] I miss you.

Vanessa: I miss you too.

Nancy: When can I see you again?

Vanessa: Soon. I have a business trip in DSV. I’ll be gone a few days.

Nancy: A few days? You’ll miss my birthday..

Vanessa: Trust me, that’s the last thing I want. But you know how it is with work.

Nancy: [hesitates] You don’t suppose- I don’t want to impose but...maybe I could come with you?

Vanessa: Come with me on my work trip?

Nancy: I know how to keep myself busy. I won’t interfere with your work- whatever it is. But I’d like to spend my birthday together. It’s the only thing I want. Please.

Vanessa: Well, when you sound so sweet like that, how could I ever refuse?

-

Geoffrey: So, you’ll be gone a week.

Nancy: Right. You know Judy. Every day is an event.

Geoffrey: Vanessa too, right?

Nancy: Well...yes, of course. Just my two best friends celebrating my birthday with me.

Geoffrey: Right. Yeah.

Nancy: Oh, and I’ve already told the boys we can all celebrate together when I’m back. I told them not to fuss about it, I promise I won’t be too partied out.

Geoffrey: Nancy?

Geoffrey: Are you having an affair?

Nancy: W-what did you just say to me?

Geoffrey: I said, are you having an affair?

Nancy: [voice tremors] W-why? Why are you asking me that?

Geoffrey: I saw the marks, Nance. I wasn’t sure, at first, but I saw them. On the inside of your thigh on our anniversary. They look like hickies. And I kept thinking about when you came home late from work in tears...but you never said why. Is there someone else? Another man? Another...

Nancy: Oh my god- no! No, Geoffrey! I’d never- I’ve always bruised easily, you know that. I could have bruised myself at work, on site. And that night.. I know that I’m not a good wife. I know I’ve been away from home. I’m trying to do better. I am. You know that. But I am not having an affair of all things.

Geoffrey: But I saw them, Nance...

Nancy: [whimpers] You are the only man I’ve ever loved. Please...please believe that. I need you to believe it.

Geoffrey: Nancy..

Nancy: I love you so much. I do.

Geoffrey: [exhales] Nancy-

[car horn beeps]

Nancy: That’s Vanessa. Should I send her away? I could stay home, if you want.

Geoffrey: [frowns] If I want?

Nancy: I don’t have to go. I can stay.

Geoffrey: You should go.

Nancy: Are you sure, Geoffrey?

Geoffrey: if that’s what you want.

Nancy: [gently] I love you.

Vanessa: Ready?

Nancy: Yes. I’m ready.

[nanenna]

The Best Laid Plans

Sleepy King Master Post (for my contributions anyway)

---

“I’m driving,” Jazz announced, snatching the keys from her dad as they all walked to where the GAV was parked on the city hall’s lawn.

“Young lady,” Mom started to scold.

“I only have a limited amount of time to drive with supervision before I’m off to college and driving all by myself.” Jazz gave her parents the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster.

“And I am more than happy to be that supervision,” Vlad said as he reached for the front passenger seat.

Danny quickly jumped into the back seat, as far away from Vlad as he could get. Jazz adjusted the seat and mirrors while she waited for her parents to get in. Then she looked Danny in the eye through the rear view mirror, “The engine doesn’t start until every last person is buckled in.”

“C’mon, Jazz! Even if your grandma driving somehow got us into a car accident we both know I’d be fine.”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Danny grumbled as he buckled himself in, Jazz kept her smirk to a minimum as she started the car. While she drove them to Vlad’s home she half listened to her parents explain the situation to him, the other half of her attention being spent watching the cars on the road around her swerve and nearly crash around her. She pulled up to a red light next to another car, the passenger staring up at her dumbfounded. Jazz smiled and waved.

“So you’re telling me Daniel is now the Ghost King,” Vlad asked as they pulled up to his mansion.

“That’s what it looks like,” Dad agreed boisterously. “Right now it seems like a meaningless title, but we’re worried about him getting randomly summoned by those darn occultists!”

“A bunch of fanatics with ludicrous ideas,” Mom said with a sniff. “I’d hate to think what they’d try to do to Danny if it ever happens again.”

There was a pause as they all got out of the GAV, then walked into Vlad’s mansion together.

“That doesn't explain why you're here. Shouldn't you be in school, young lady?”

“Apparently it's school policy to send siblings home in these kinds of situations.” And Jazz was so thankful for that!

“And Danielle?”

“She doesn’t go to our school, now does she?”

Vlad nodded along before turning his attention fully on Mom. “I’m guessing you have a plan?”

“Of course,” Mom replied without another thought. “Since we’re pretty sure the title is attached to the crown, we’re going to destroy it and hope it destroys the Ghost King title.”

Vlad stopped in his tracks, “You’ll what?”

Dad patted Vlad on the shoulder consolingly, “I know, I’m sure Danny would be a good king too, but he’s adamant he doesn’t want to. And the risk of a bunch of wacko cultists kidnapping him is just too big.”

“It’s not like you want me to be king anyway,” Danny added with a smirk.

“Well… Little Badger, you’re so young!” Vlad blurted out.

“And it’s weird, you’ve had the crown for over a year now, but I’ve never seen you use it.”

Vlad sighed deeply, “I’ve tried, but it just doesn’t do anything.”

Danny just nodded, “So if it doesn’t work anyway isn’t it better if no one can?”

Vlad side eyed Danny before shrugging, “You do have a point. I shall go retrieve the crown, one moment.” He turned and left the sitting room he’d led them to.

The Fentons all sat down on various pieces of furniture. Their parents shared a couch, sitting as close together as possible, while Jazz and Danny each sat in a chair of their own. Danny sighed and slouched in his seat.

“Danny, have you let Sam and Tucker know what's going on yet?” Jazz asked. It seemed the easiest way to distract him while they waited.

“Yeah, kinda. I told them I was home safe and would explain everything after school.”

Jazz nodded, that seemed the safest.

“They promised to bring me my homework,” Danny added with a groan. “It's so unfair! I got kidnapped, shouldn't I get- oh shit!” Danny practically threw himself out of his chair.

“Language,” Mom chided.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” Danny whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at seemingly empty space. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

Danny waited, presumably a ghost they couldn't see was responding. Jazz had learned from the Youngblood incident, she quietly pulled out a collapsed boo-staff from her purse.

“You don't know who I am?”

…

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

…

“How about you tell me your name first?” After another pause he burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?”

“Huh?” Danny looked to Jazz, then back to the open space. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

Jazz and their parents shook their heads.

Vlad came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

Everyone paused for the response.

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” Danny added, he turned back to the empty space, “Are you even a ghost?”

A window burst, shattering into many flying shards under Batman’s combat boots. Jazz instinctively covered her face and shrieked. By the time she looked up the blond man in a trenchcoat from earlier was climbing through the shattered window while muttering to himself.

“Was that really necessary?!” Vlad yelled angrily.

The blond man pointed at Danny and said something, dazzling light flew from his finger to hit Danny, leaving him standing there braced for impact but looking fine.

Mom squawked, “What'd you do?!”

“Danno! Are you okay?” Dad rushed over to check Danny over.

“I think I'm okay?” Danny said shakily as he straightened up from his protective curl to look himself over.

There was a familiar burning crown floating over his head.

“Huh,” the blond man said, “that was supposed to reveal your true form.”

“Congrats, this is my true form,” Danny said with an eye roll.

“Danny, above your head,” Jazz said carefully. Unfortunately that got everyone's attention, far more than Wonder Woman slipping into the room.

Danny looked up, “What? Where?”

“No Danny, it's the crown,” Mom supplied, coming over to stand next to him while glaring at the heroes and their pet wizard. (That was unkind, Jazz shouldn't think such things.)

Dany reached up and felt around until he found the crown, then pulled it down to look at. “Okay, crown retrieved.”

“We may have a problem,” Vlad said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” Danny looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in Vlad's. “Why are there two?” Danny turned to the pet wizard, “What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything, that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” Mom said while glaring at the pet wizard.

Jazz extended the boo-staff and came to stand slightly in front of Danny, these guys may have powers but Jazz had helped fight bigger, badder beings.

Vlad started to step backwards, back towards the hallway.

“Oh no you don’t!” Danny let go of his crown as he ran over to grab the crown Vlad was still holding, it quickly turned into a tug of war.

“Vladdie? What are you doing?” Dad asked in confusion.

“You don’t need two crowns, and since this one was already in my possession…”

“Absolutely not, you fruitloop!”

“Danny!” Mom and Dad both chided.

The Justice Leaguers had all gathered together and were just watching, seeming unsure what to do after all their silly dramatics.

Vlad glowered down at Danny’s hands on the crown, then his eyes widened. He switched to trying to grab Danny’s hand.

Danny looked down, his own eyes widened as he curled his hand into a fist. “Is that the Ring of Rage?! What the hell, that should still be on Pariah’s finger!” Danny looked at the pet wizard in horror, “What. Did. You. Do?!”

“Danny, Vlad, stop it both of you!” Mom moved over to the two and tried to separate them, Dad joined her and was doing his best to cajole them both into backing down. For her part Jazz kept her eyes on the intruders while the rest of her family and Vlad squabbled.

“Alright, that’s enough,” the pet wizard said grumpily before raising his voice. “Shut up!”

[triptuckers]

bonfire - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Hey I was just wondering if you could make a Percy Jackson x gn reader where the reader had a crush on Percy for a while and was jealous of annabeth only to find out Percy felt the same" Pairing:  percy jackson x gn!reader Summary:  you've got a crush on percy, but it looks as if he only has eyes for annabeth. you try to keep your distance, but it's hard and percy notices you're absent Warnings:  jealousy, angst Word count:  1.5K A/N: happy new year!! sadly I went into the year with my tiktok account getting banned because they think I'm 13?? all I do is post silly little pjo videos but apparently its not okay so now I have to start over :( thanks for your request, enjoy!

you wonder if your life would be different if you were more like annabeth.

you're looking at her right now, as she's talking with her team. you know you can't win capture the flag from her. she's too smart. always analysing, always calculating everything that can go wrong and then preventing it.

percy is also looking at annabeth.

he's on her team, after all.

you're trying to listen as clarisse, your team captain, explains her new plan to your team. but you're only hearing half of what she's saying. you're far too focused on percy as he smiles at annabeth while she's talking to him.

you can tell he likes her. and it's not like you hadn't tried to let it go.

you had tried to push your feelings away, to ignore them, nothing worked. when you saw percy chatting with annabeth, you felt a little jealous.

soon your crush on percy and with it, your jealousy of annabeth, started to grow. so you decided if nothing worked, you'd distance yourself from percy.

it hurt, especially since percy was happy to spend his time with annabeth instead of you. at first, he would still invite you to spend time with him. but after you kept declining his offers, he eventually stopped asking you.

you tried not to show anyone how upset you were. maybe it would get easier with time. it's clear to you percy prefers annabeth over you.

on top of it all, you lose capture the flag yet again. you're forced to sit on the sidelines with your team, listening to clarisse tell you everything that went wrong. in the distance, you can see percy and annabeth celebrating their win with the rest of the team.

you tell yourself it's just a game and that you don't care their team won. maybe if you tell yourself it enough times, you might believe it.

when you're walking back to the cabins to put away your armor and weapons, you hear someone call your name behind you.

you turn around and see percy jogging to catch up with you.

you hate the way your heart still skips a beat when you see his eyes and quick smile.

'good game!' he says, stopping in front of you.

'hi percy.' you say.

'hi.' he says with a smile. gods, he's going to be the death of you one day.

'congrats on winning. again.'

'thanks! annabeth had this amazing plan.'

'athena kids, huh?' you mumble, trying not to show your disappointment at how it only took a couple of seconds for percy to bring up annabeth in the conversation.

'you busy tonight?' he says.

you look up at him. surely he wouldn't?

'not really. why?' you say.

'there's a bonfire tonight. want to come?' says percy.

'yeah, that sounds good.' you say. you could never say no to him.

sitting at the bonfire, you hadn't done that in a while. ever since you decided to try and distance yourself from percy, you missed out on things you knew he would be present at.

'great! it was annabeth's idea to host one, see you tonight!' says percy, waving at you and taking off again, headed towards his own cabin.

you just stand there. of course it was annabeth's plan, of course she'd be there as well.

as you walk to your cabin, you're not sure you can stand watching them together all night after watching them win capture the flag. but you'd told percy you'd come. and you hate to let him down.

so when the sun is setting, you make your way to the bonfire. while you're walking, you can't stop thinking about how cold it is. you should have brought a jacket. but you're afraid that if you go back to your cabin, you won't go to the bonfire anymore. and then percy would be upset.

at the bonfire, there's almost no kids from your team. there are a few of your siblings, but not a lot.

the kids from the opposite team are dancing, laughing and celebrating.

is this really where you want to be tonight?

you spot percy in the distance, talking with a few apollo kids. without meaning to, your eyes also search for annabeth. she's sitting with her siblings. at least they're not together again.

you'd stay for an hour. just to show your face, then you'd go back to your cabin. that's acceptable, right?

you get yourself a drink and sit down near the edge of the party, where most of the kids are just talking with each other and not really doing a lot.

as you think back to capture the flag earlier today, you try to figure out how annabeth's team could always beat yours. you know athena kids are smart, but ares kids also know a lot about battle strategies. maybe you could sit down with clarisse some day and see if you can help her with a new plan.

you're lost in thoughts, when you hear a familiar laugh in the distance. you look over and see annabeth has left her siblings and is now sitting next to percy.

you sigh softly, it was never going to be any different, was it?

for a while, you watch the other kids, listening to their songs. you had to give it to the apollo cabin, they know how to get a party started. when you look back at percy and annabeth, percy is gone.

before you can look around where he is, someone sits down next to you.

'having fun?'

you turn and are met with percy's bright eyes. you put on a smile, hoping it looks sincere.

'yeah. thanks for inviting me.' you say.

percy tilts his head a little and gives you a confusing look.

'you say you're having fun and yet since you got here you've been sitting here with a drink you haven't touched, freezing and shivering.' says percy.

right. you forgot your jacket.

'sorry. I was thinking about capture the flag.' you say.

'ah yes, about our fantastic victory.' says percy, smiling and bumping your shoulder. 'you should come up with a new plan some day. maybe talk to clarisse about it?'

'I will.' you say.

'then again, it is hard to beat annabeth's plans. sometimes I don't even know her entire plan until the game is already over.' says percy.

really? how does he manage to bring up annabeth every single time he's talking to you?

'well, don't let me keep you.' you say. 'thanks for checking in, but you don't have to take pity on me for losing. you can go back to annabeth now.'

percy frowns. 'what are you talking about?' he says.

'well, clearly you like her.' you say.

percy laughs at your words. you feel the color drain from your face. tears start to form in your eyes.

'alright, I'm leaving.' you say, getting up.

percy abruptly stops laughing. 'wait no, please don't go.' he says, pulling you back down.

'sorry, I shouldn't have laughed at that. it's just, yeah, I like annabeth. but not like that, we're just friends. I like you, okay? I thought you knew.' says percy.

your lips part in surprise. did you hear that right?

'you like me?' you say. 'like... you like like me?'

percy smiles. gods he really is beautiful. 'yeah, I like like you, alright.' he says. 'which reminds me, why have you been avoiding me lately?'

you look down, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. 'I thought if I wouldn't see you, my feelings for you would go away.'

'but they didn't.'

'no, they didn't. my eyes were still finding you in ever room. even tonight, I didn't really want to come. but I couldn't say no to you.'

'is that also why you didn't bring a jacket? so you'd have an excuse to go back soon?'

you look up and shake your head. 'no, I did actually forget my jacket.' you say.

percy takes off his sweater and hands it to you. 'here.' he says. 'wouldn't want you to freeze.'

'thank you.' you say, taking it and putting it on. it's bigger than your own sweaters and smells like him.

'want to get out of here?' says percy. 'we can go to the lake. or my cabin, no one's there. it'll just be the two of us.'

'do you have a heater in your cabin?' you say.

'no.' says percy, getting up and holding out his hand to you. 'but consider me your personal heater from now on. always available for cuddles.'

you smile, taking his hand. 'I like that.' you say.

as you and percy walk off, annabeth is still sitting by the campfire. she's smiling to herself. she knew about percy's crush on you. he'd been asking her all sorts of advice. and it looks like he finally told you.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Just discovered you and love your writing! Was hoping to request something for when you have the time or desire to write 😊

Could you please do a Slytherin boy being betrothed to the reader where they know about each other and are in the same friend group but they never want to outright acknowledge it. They both secretly like each other but try to date other people because they dont want to be forced into being together.

Maybe someone gets too jealous and mad and then things escalate 😋

Thank you for considering 🥰🤩

I was having a hard time choosing which boy, so I hope Draco works. If not, send me another request! <3

Possessive

Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Warnings: Oral(male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, cussing

18+ Minors DNI!

The Malfoys and your parents had arranged for you and Draco to get married after you guys graduate. You never hated Draco and he never hated you, but the thought of being forced into a marriage with someone was something that pissed you off.

You both were friends and that never did change after the arrangement, even if it did get a little awkward. It made your friend group a little weird for a bit since they all knew, but no one dared to speak about it since both you and Draco threatened them if they mentioned it again.

Normally, Draco wouldn’t go against his parents, but having his future already decided for him made him start rebelling. Even you started to as well. You both would date, makeout, hookup with other people, trying to ignore the other person. You knew you were going to be married anyways eventually, why not experience other people before that?

But, deep down, both of you liked each other. As much as Draco didn’t like the idea of his future being controlled, he really did love that it was going to be with you. And same with you, you were happy you were going to be with him, you were just mad at your parents for forcing this onto you.

Even though he was trying to ignore you and have fun with other people, he was really falling harder for you. The way you’d smile and laugh when hanging out together with all your friends. Your jokes. Your personality.

Something snapped in him one day when he saw a guy hitting on you at one of the Slytherin parties. He tried pushing the jealousy away. You were his fiance, after all. He’d have you in the long run. But then the guy started touching you. A hand on your waist. He was going to cut his hand off.

Before he even realized it, he was walking towards you. He grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the guy.

“What the fuck?” You asked Draco as he was dragging you away, guiding you to his dorm. “Let go, Draco!”

“No.” He said coldly. He brought you in his room, closing the door.

“What the fuck was that about?” You yelled, pulling your arm out of his grip.

“You can’t do that! You’re fucking mine!” Draco said angrily.

“You’ve been dating and hooking up with other people, too. You can’t say that to me!” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“You’re going to be my fucking wife!” Draco said as he grabbed the hair on the back of your head possessively, making sure you looked up at him. “Not his. Not anyone else’s. Mine.”

“That’s not fair, Draco.” You said calmly, looking into his eyes. “You’ve been doing the same.”

“I’m done with them. I don’t want them anymore. I want you.” He matched your calmness, but kept his grip on your hair.

“You can’t just do that, Draco. I’ll be yours in the future, let me have my fun.”

“I can give you your fun, though.” He used his hand in your hair to tilt your head back further, moving his head to start pressing kisses to your neck. “Let me show you. If you hate it, I’ll leave you alone until the wedding.” 

“I…” You were struggling, partially from hesitation, not knowing if you should. The other part was because of the way he was kissing your neck and the hand in your hair.

“Come on, darling. Just once.” He whispered.

“Fine.” You agreed, uncrossing your arms.

He didn’t say anything, but moved his hands to pick you up and dropped you on the bed with him hovering over you. He spent a few moments just running his hands over you, like he was happy to finally have you all to himself, even for just a little bit.

“I'm gonna make sure you want no one else but me now.” He said as he started to undress you. “So fucking stunning.” He ran his hands all over you again once he got you naked. He wanted to worship you, kiss, lick, bite, touch all over you.

But he had to prove a point, he needed to show you who you belong to. And he really needed to feel you.

He got undressed as well, letting you rake your eyes over him. God, he loved seeing your eyes running over his body.

He leaned back down to start kissing you. His hands ran down your body again, giving your breasts a good squeeze before continuing its path down. He pulled away and moved to lay down beside you, moving you so your pussy was right above his face and you faced towards his lower half. He didn't waste any time before licking your cunt, moaning at the taste. You started moaning above him as you placed your hands down on his chest for support. He urged you to lean further down with a gentle hand on your back. You knew what he was going for and leaned down, wrapping a hand around his dick before spitting on cock then taking him in your mouth.

You both were pleasing each other with your mouths. His tongue alternating between licking at your clit and fucking your hole while you bobbed your head up and down his dick. Your moans were muffled by his cock as he moaned into your pussy. His mouth on you was so distracting, even his hands grabbing your ass were drawing your attention. Your movements were faltering and he started thrusting up into your mouth, making you gag on his cock.

“Come on, darling. I know you can do better than that.” He said as he gave your ass a spank.

You moaned and tried focusing back on sucking him off.

“That's my girl. Don't stop.” He said before putting his mouth back on your pussy.

He was still helping by thrusting into your mouth, it’s like he wanted to hear you gagging and moaning around him. His mouth continued its attack on your pussy, licking and sucking and prodding at your hole. It was getting distracting again. Draco noticed and flipped you to lay beside him, quickly settling back between your legs as he continued licking at your clit. He pushed two fingers inside you, too, looking up at you to watch your face.

“My mouth too distracting for you, love?” He teased before sucking on your clit.

Your hands went to his hair, arching into his mouth. “Shit! Yes!” You answered with an eager nod.

“And you wanted to have fun with someone else tonight.” He said after he let go of your clit. He continued licking and sucking, hearing all your pretty moans. 

He had you cumming on his mouth and fingers like he knew your body perfectly already. You cried out his name as you trembled, gripping his hair tightly. He helped you ride it out, using his free hand to rub your thigh.

He pulled off of you and flipped you over, pushing on your back gently to get you to lean down into the pillows.

“You're so gorgeous. I can't believe you were letting other people but me touch you, angel.” He said softly, but you could feel his anger and jealousy seething from him.

He pushed into you, definitely not as gently as his voice. You yelped at the intrusion before moaning at how nice his dick felt in you. He barely gave you a moment to adjust before he was thrusting in you. His cock was hitting deep in you, making you grip at the sheets below you as you moaned.

“Draco.” You moaned his name. “So deep. Fuck.”

“Yeah? Never had anyone this deep in you before?” He asked, gripping at your hips.

“No. Shit!” You cried into the pillows as you buried your face in them.

He wasn't having that and grabbed your hair again, pulling your head up from the pillows. “Wanna hear you, darling. No one's ever made you feel this good?”

“No! No! Just you!” You cried out, moaning from his brutal pace.

“Just me? Do you wanna fuck any of those other assholes anymore?” He moved his hand on your hip to your clit.

“No! I don't!” You were teetering on the edge now.

“Good. Who do you belong to, darling?” He asked, feeling how you were clenching on him as he groaned.

“I belong to you, Draco!” You cried out.

“You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock, sweet girl?” He asked, his own thrusts losing tempo.

“Yes! I'm gonna cum!” He kept his pace as best as he could before you came, trembling and crying his name with a few curses.

He was right behind you, filling your sweet pussy with his cum. He rode out his high before pulling out and watching his cum dripping out as he rubbed along your back gently.

He never wanted anyone else to touch you again. You were his future wife. You belonged to him and him to you.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Out Like A Light ~ MYG

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 2.9K 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, cute, fluffy, yoongi helping insomniac reader, smut, MINORS DNI, unprotected sex, oral (reader recieving) 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

The living room was comfortably quiet which was completely unusual, the guys sprawled across the couches, snacks scattered on the coffee table. Namjoon was thumbing through a book, Seokjin was scrolling through his phone, and Hobi and Jimin were playing a game on the floor. Yoongi leaned against the armrest of the couch, listening to the chatter but not really engaging. His mind was somewhere else, focused on you upstairs. He'd left you about ten minutes ago and he couldn't help but feel more than useless than he did right now.

“How’s she doing tonight?” Seokjin asked, glancing up from his phone with a concerned frown. Yoongi shrugged, it was the same as it always was with you. There was no chance of getting you to drift off to sleep and he hated himself for it.

“Same as usual. Can’t sleep.” He muttered a little, hating how angry it made him that he wasn't able to help you fall asleep. Namjoon closed his book and leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s been tough for her lately, huh? I was with her the other night and read a few chapters of that book she likes. It helped a bit, but she still didn’t get much sleep.” Namjoon shrugged and Yoongi cringed at the thought. You'd mentioned it the next day that the guys had all been trying to help you and while it was sweet of them to try it made Yoongi feel like a bad boyfriend.

“Yeah, she mentioned that,” Yoongi replied quietly, a hint of unease creeping into his voice. He stared down at his hands and bit down on his tongue trying not to let his insecurities get the better of him,

“I tried telling her some dumb jokes last night,” Hobi chimed in, stretching his arms over his head, looking awfully smug himself for what he was about to say,

“Worked like a charm! She was laughing so hard, and then boom, out like a light.” Jimin chuckled, nodding in agreement. Yoongi turned to look at Jimin who seemed pretty happy with himself,

“She said that always helps. When I stayed with her the other night, we didn’t even talk. She just needed someone there, and she fell asleep after a while.” Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek, listening as each of them recounted how they’d helped you in some way. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to lean on them—they were family, after all, and he was glad you all got along well with one another. But the fact that they seemed to know exactly what to do to ease your insomnia left him feeling… off. Like he was missing something.

Yoongi had never been good at helping his own sleeping schedule and that made him feel useless but it was nothing compared to the way he felt when you'd lean on him and he had no idea how to help.

“They’re not wrong,” Taehyung said from the corner of the room, finally chiming in. “She told me you guys helped a lot. Even Jungkook. I guess his random midnight gym talk worked somehow.” Yoongi scoffed softly, shaking his head.

“Gym talk helped her sleep? Seriously?” He grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and shaking his head. Now he just felt like the guys were trying to wind him up - and it was working.

“Guess it did,” Jungkook shrugged. “She started nodding off while I was talking about some new routine, so I just kept going. Went into detail about all the weights too, she was out like a light.” The guys all laughed, except for Yoongi, who forced a smile. It wasn’t that he resented them—he loved how they cared for you like he did—but every time he tried to help, nothing seemed to work.

He'd tried to sit with you while he worked, he'd sung to you, he'd made you hot chocolate, and got you new pillows and blankets. Done almost everything he could think of to get you to fall asleep and yet nothing seemed to work.

Yet all of them had something that made it easier for you to rest, but him? He just fumbled through the night, watching you struggle with the weight of your own sleeplessness.

“You okay, hyung?” Hobi asked, noticing the shift in Yoongi’s expression. Yoongi tried not to let it show, he didn't want this to become an issue, if the others helped you sleep he should be happy for you.

“Yeah, just… I don’t know.” Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It feels like everyone’s better at helping her than I am. It’s my job to make sure she’s okay, you know? But whenever I try, I just end up sitting there, doing nothing.” The room fell quiet for a moment, and the lighthearted atmosphere suddenly felt heavier. Namjoon leaned forward, his brows furrowed in thought.

“It’s not a competition, Yoongi. You’re there for her in ways we can’t be.”

“I know it’s not,” Yoongi said quickly, though the knot of insecurity in his chest tightened. “But it’s like… every time I try, she ends up calling for one of you. What’s the point if I’m not even good at something this simple?” He sighed in frustration, finally letting everything off his shoulders before Hoseok bit his lip, looking to the others for some help.

“It’s not simple,” Jimin interjected softly. “Insomnia’s tough. You being there helps her, even if it doesn’t feel like it right away.” Yoongi didn’t respond immediately, his mind was too busy filling his head with doubt about it all. He wanted to be the one to ease your restlessness, to give you the peace you couldn’t seem to find on your own, he wanted to be the one you would lean on in your times of need. Yet every time he tried, it felt like he was failing. The others were succeeding where he couldn’t.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi finally muttered. “It just feels like… I’m not enough.” The words hung in the air, and the guys exchanged glances. None of them had the perfect solution, but they understood Yoongi’s frustration. They all cared for you in their own way, but it was clear that for Yoongi, this ran deeper. You weren’t just a friend to him. You were his everything.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, his voice gentle but firm. “She loves you. That’s all that matters.” Yoongi nodded, though the weight of his insecurity still lingered. He wanted to believe that was enough. He just had to find a way to make sure you felt it too.

Just as he was about to head to the studio his phone pinged and he frowned glancing down at the screen,

Best girlfriend: Come upstairs.... xx

He smirked at the name on the screen, you'd renamed yourself a few months ago and he didn't change it since the name was completely true in his eyes. Without thinking twice, Yoongi stood up, muttering a quick

“I’m going to check on her,” before heading up to your shared room.

The soft light from the hallway spilt into the dim bedroom as he quietly stepped inside, finding you curled up in bed, staring up at the ceiling. You looked as frustrated as he felt right now and you turned over on the bed to look at him,

“Hey,” you greeted softly, shifting to make room for him on the bed. “I couldn’t sleep. Again.” You smiled weakly, as if to say what's new and he sighed, sliding in next to you, his body fitting perfectly against yours. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

“I know. It’s been rough for you, lately,” he whispered, stroking his hands up and down your arms as you nodded, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. There was a comfort in his presence, but tonight, something felt off. Yoongi’s hold on you wasn’t as relaxed as it usually was, and you could feel a slight tension in his body. You knew your boyfriend better than you knew yourself so you instantly knew that there was something going on in his head and you weren't going to sleep until he told you what it was.

“What’s going on?” you asked, looking up at him through the dim light. He hesitated, his hand that had been touching you froze in place and he shook his head at you.

“Nothing, just tired.” You knew it was a lie instantly and you stared up at him,

“Yoongi.” You narrowed your eyes playfully, nudging him gently. “I know you better than I know myself. Something’s bothering you.” He stayed quiet, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles on your hip. he didn't want to bring you down more than you already were. You studied his face, the way his eyes seemed to avoid yours, how his lips were pressed together like he was holding something back and you poked his side, your tone soft but persistent.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, baby.” You begged, looking at him but Yoongi shifted slightly, debating whether to brush it off or just come clean. But the way you kept looking at him, concerned and curious, made it impossible to keep it bottled up. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s just… I feel like I’m no good at this,” he muttered, finally voicing what had been weighing him down. The two of you had been together for so long that he knew it was better to tell you than to keep it hidden.

“Helping you sleep. Everyone else seems to know what to do, but I… I can’t. It’s like I’m supposed to be the one who makes you feel better, but instead, I’m the one who sucks at it.” You blinked, his admission catching you off guard. You hadn’t expected that. You'd only kept asking the guys to help you because you knew Yoongi had trouble sleeping himself and you didn't want to make him feel worse about it,

“Yoongi…”

“I hear how the others help you, and I know I shouldn’t be comparing myself,” he continued, his voice low. “But it’s hard not to feel like I’m failing you. I mean, even Jungkook can ramble about workouts and you doze off.” You couldn’t help but laugh weakly at that, but the sound was soft, affectionate. Jungkook bored you with trips about the gym and everything he got up to when he was there, that was why you'd fallen asleep.

“Yoongi, I never wanted to ask you for help because… I know you struggle with sleep too. I didn’t want to put more pressure on you.” His gaze softened as he looked down at you, at least it wasn't because you didn't think he was good enough.

“But you should’ve asked. I’d do anything for you.” He uttered under his heart,

“I know,” you whispered, shifting slightly so you could meet his eyes better.

“But even if you weren’t helping me fall asleep, just having you here makes me feel better. I always wanted you next to me, even if I didn’t say it.” Yoongi stared at you for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. You could see his expression shift, the insecurity he had been carrying softening into something else—something tender.

“Really?” he asked, his voice quieter now. You nodded, your fingers tracing small patterns on his chest, pressing your lips softly to his chest and then looking at him.

“Yeah. You’re my boyfriend, Yoongi. You don’t have to do anything special. I just need you here with me. That’s all.” Yoongi let out a breath, the tension in his body easing.

“I didn’t realize… I just didn’t want to feel like I was letting you down.” You hated that he was beating himself up over something he couldn't help you with and you shook your head at him,

“You could never let me down,” you said softly, leaning in closer until your lips brushed his. “I’m here because I want you. Not because I need you to fix everything.” His eyes fluttered shut as your lips met his, the kiss soft and lingering, a quiet exchange of everything he had been worried about. When you pulled back, you could see the small smile playing on his lips, and it warmed your heart.

"There is one thing I could help you with... to make you sleep of course," He stuttered a little, his cheeks turning pink as you stared at him.

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest as his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer and he pressed your lips to his.

The kiss deepened, your fingers tangling in his hair as you melted into him, feeling the heat between you grow. His other hand trailed down your side, sending sparks through your body.

“Yoongi,” you breathed, his name escaping your lips between kisses. He didn’t respond with words, just a low hum of agreement as his fingers slipped beneath your shirt, brushing against your bare skin. You could feel his touch linger, the desire building between you both.

Slowly your clothes began to disappear in the hazy heat of the moment, each layer peeled away with unspoken understanding. His lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that made your head spin. You clung to him, your breaths coming out in soft, eager gasps as the tension between you built, your bodies entwining.

Yoongi slowly began to kiss down your body, kissing each of your thighs as he looked up at you. You were wriggling above him, your eyes burning into his as you silently begged for him to do something,

"Such a needy little, princess." He chuckled before his tongue finally caressed your eager clit. You grabbed your pillow and held it over your face, moaning softly into it as he began to alternate between soft kitten licks and sucking on your clit. Your hips bucked toward him as he continued to eat you out like you were the last meal on earth.

"Y-Yoongi, fuck." you moaned out, completely lost in the pleasure he was giving to you. Yoongi smirked as he pushed his tongue into you, using his fingers to gently rub your clit sending you over the edge as you whimpered.

"Cum for me, princess." He ordered as he slid two fingers into your cunt, thrusting them roughly as he began sucking on your clit. Your hips bucked uncontrollably now as you whimpered, meeting each stroke of his fingers as the band inside of your stomach tightened.

"S-Shit! Shit! I'm gonna-" You cry out in sheer ecstasy as your head rolls back against the pillows. Your pussy clenched tightly around his fingers but he continued to thrust them in and out of you as you came down from your high.

"Yoongi, I need-"

"I know," He smirked as he knelt between your legs, tapping the head of his cock against your clit as you whined at him, you were already sensitive without him teasing you more for it. Slowly he eased into you, making you whimper at the stretch, your nails dragging down his back as he bottoms out inside of you.

"M-Move...please," you begged as he groaned. Slowly he began to withdraw from you, only to push back in, your legs wrapping around his waist as you whimpered at him.

His thrusts began to pick up in pace his of his thrust making you cry out in ecstasy, no longer caring that the boys were right downstairs. All you good focus on was how good it felt to have Yoongi inside of you.

"You're gonna let everyone know, princess," He chuckles deeply and moans out when he feels you clench,

"Does my dirty, princess want everyone to know?" He teased, thrusting faster this time, pinning your left leg down to the bed as his thrusts began to get brutal. You were a mess at this point, a screaming and withering mess beneath him as you felt your - fast - approaching orgasm.

"Y-Yoongi!" You screamed, looking up at him as you whined. Yoongi smirked as he looked down at you, this was what he could do to make you sleep every single night. Two orgasms...maybe more if he could make you agree to it.

"You gonna cum for me?" he smirked at you as you nodded violently at him,

"yes, Yes!" You cried out, your fingers leaving marks down his back making him groan as he drove into you again and again. Your moans harmonise with his, and his thrusts send you closer to your edge each and every time. Yoongi reached between you and stroked your clit,

"FUCK!" You cry out, releasing over his cock as you whimpered, pussy clamping down on him and sending him to his own release. He panted heavily as he looked down at you, sweat dripping from your forehead and yet you'd never looked prettier to him than you did right now.

"I think we should do that every single night." You whipped as he pulled out of you, collapsing on the bed beside you as he gave himself a couple of minutes before he cleaned you up.

"I'm down, but we'll need to get our own place...I plan on doing that again and again until you're out like a light," He smirks before kissing you and heading to the en-suite to get you a warm cloth.

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[kazumist]

COULD IF YOU WOULD .ᐟ

✩ — the two times aventurine referred to you as his "work wife" and the one time he seems to have left out the "work" part.

✩ — includes: aventurine x f!reader. fluff (?), crack. cw: ooc!aventurine probably, very messy and i kinda hate this piece LOL. wc: 820. reblogs are very much appreciated !!

✩ — note: trying to write aventurine as his usual self now and not some delusional hc that i have of him yay! (i went through hell and back writing this just to get the dialogue match his way of speaking.) pretend that the ipc holds company dinners btw 🥹.

you don’t really know how it started. but maybe it’s because your co-workers tease you both too much about how you and aventurine act like an “old married couple” due to your constant banter, or maybe it’s because of aventurine’s (annoying) flirtatious remarks towards you.

however with the constant jokes and all, even aventurine got infected because there’s times when he would refer to you as his “work wife” as well. the first was when you were out at a company dinner. working in the same department with aventurine didn’t really help your… predicament, but for some reason, it wasn’t so bad.

“so how are you two love birds doing?” a co-worker asked, clearly drunk from the way they slurred their words and how red their face was slowly getting. aventurine just laughs at them—casually swinging an arm and resting it on the back of your chair. “my work wife here seems to be doing well, right?” he glances at you, a whiskey glass in hand, as he rotates it with his wrist. he was simply met with a glare in return. people wouldn’t care if you responded anyway because they’re too drunk to even remember this in the morning.

the second time was when you two got stuck in an elevator ride. and the worst part? aventurine purposely pressed at least four floors below your destination on the panel just so he could chat with you. “wouldn’t it be a nice idea to ditch work for today?” he asks, his eyes focused on both of your reflections from the elevator’s doors.

“you’re insane.”

“my dearest work wife, you wound me! i was simply asking you out.”

“no one would ever agree if you asked them in that way.” you refused to make eye contact with him.

“if i asked normally, then where’s the fun in that?”

when the elevator hit the current floor, you made your exit despite the floor not being your destination yet. 

of course, he had called or referred to you as his “work wife” many more times than this. however, as for the third one, it was when you were assigned to work with aventurine to dig up some information in a bar of sorts. a bar is quite a dangerous place in general, but you both had no choice but to split up so work would be faster.

that is, until you started being pestered by some stranger at the bartender’s counter.

no matter how many times you told him to go away (in reality, you really wanted him to go fuck off already), he was just being too persistent. but you couldn’t do anything because it would most definitely cause a scene—and you don’t want that. it was starting to suffocate you, how the stranger kept getting closer.

“dear, who is this?” you knew that voice from anywhere. you looked over to your side and saw aventurine next to you, already wrapping his arm around your waist as he looked at the stranger from head to toe. after telling him that you had no idea, you swore you could’ve seen his jaw clench for a quick second. playing along was mandatory with how the situation is turning now, even if aventurine had to pretend that he was actually your partner (well, technically, he is your partner for this assignment).

“who knew that there was actually someone indecent enough to hit on someone’s wife?” it was weird. you always felt icked by how aventurine kept calling you his “work wife." but this time, it was weird. and you hate it.

because you had a revelation that you liked the fact aventurine called you his wife at this very moment.

aventurine has a way with words. he always does; he knows what to say to rile up someone—to provoke them. it was no surprise that the stranger became another one of aventurine’s victims when it came to his provocative terms. yet, it was all over in a blink of an eye because the guy retreated. (you weren’t able to understand what aventurine specifically said to him, but does it really matter at this point?)

“are you alright?” he asks. 

“yeah. thank you.”

“how about we hit the hay for tonight? i managed to gather some information anyway.”

“agree, i was able to catch some as well.”

“really now? we make a great team, don’t we?”

“don’t let it get to your head, aventurine.”

he chuckles. “i was serious, though.” you look at him, confused. “about…?” aventurine leans to your ear and whispers low: “we could actually get married if you would let me do the honors of asking for your hand.”

thwack!

“ow! hey! i was only kidding! okay maybe i wasn’t but—hey! that actually hurts a lot now!” he yelps as you slap him by the shoulder repeatedly. “you’re insane, i tell you!”

maybe being called aventurine's work wife had its perks after all.