#i know i said i would try to write out him going through with the actual changes but I dunno guys I'm not really feeling it

[beardedjoel]

ride

joel x f!reader

request: "prone, leaving a hickey on their neck, in a truck bed" sent in as part of my 5k celebration! or you try to grapple with feelings for your parents' friend while getting absolutely railed by him 🤠 6.5k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (unspecified but college age reader and it's said that joel is over twice her age), oral f receiving, unprotected piv, pr0ne b0ne, creampie, hickeys, dirty talk and pet names, bit of daddy kink (sue me okay), angsty feelings, alcohol, reader has a mom and dad and clothing is described (shorts and t-shirt).

a/n: saw this prompt and instantly loved the visual! such a fun one to write, and i got weirdly caught up in these two having history and a bit of angst so it ended up way longer than i anticipated (aaand everybody is thinking we are not surprised julie couldn't shut up).

Today had you on edge, taking in your surroundings more dutifully, fearing the rounding of corners on campus in case you’d run into him. You try to pretend you don’t want to see him, but can’t deny the sinking feeling in your stomach as you arrive for your shift that evening without having any chance encounters. You hate that you’re imagining how one would go as you wait on your tables, how you’d pretend you hadn’t even thought about the possibility of him also being on campus for parents weekend. Casual. It was totally, completely casual - the same sentiment you’d been trying to convince yourself of for months.

His daughter Sarah is only a year younger than you and ended up at the same university a couple of hours from your hometown. You’d played little league soccer together for a few years as kids, and your parents became much faster friends with Joel than you and Sarah ever did. 

Despite Chip’s Bar & Grille being located off campus, it doesn't seem immune to the influx of people due to parents weekend as you weave through your tables, a sweat breaking out on your neck. Your asshole of a boss - the Chip of Chip’s Bar and Grille - never quite learned how to keep the temperature comfortable in here for the workers. He’d also declined your request to have tonight off to spend with your parents - too many other coworkers of yours had the same idea as you with people’s parents being in town, apparently. You know he also simply just enjoyed telling people no.

You plaster on a fake grin as you carry a tray of beers over to a rowdier group of men, probably here to watch Friday Night Football or something, judging by their team spirited paraphernalia. They’re already a few drinks deep, getting increasingly more bold with their commentary towards you, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with here before. You easily brush it off, navigating your way through their charged remarks with grace and sweet looks that should only boost your tips, letting the act drop dramatically as soon as you walk away from them.

Karina, the hostess - a sweet girl around your age - flits up to you, buzzing information in your ear. “Table 19 just got sat. Said it’s your parents, I think?”

You smile to yourself - it’s thoughtful that your parents would brave the greasy, unappetizing food at Chip’s just to see you twelve hours earlier than planned. They instantly glow and warm up at the sight of you, looking slightly out of place but nothing short of comfortable. They were the type of people that could adapt nearly anywhere.

“Hey, honey!” your mom trills, hugging you tight, pressing the slightly damp t-shirt you’re wearing into your back. 

“Sorry. Sweaty,” you warn her too late, getting a chuckle in your ear. Your dad squeezes you tightly next, and when they go to sit down, you notice with confusion that Karina has placed three menus on the table. 

Your eyes snap up to the front door just in time to see a familiar, broad form step into the fray, weaving his way through the bodies and tables. His eyes scan across the restaurant - dark and brooding as always - then land on you, standing tall above where most people are seated at their respective tables. Your stomach leaps, leaving your breath caught in your throat, him letting his lip twitch into some semblance of a smile - or a smirk, rather, given how haughty he looks right now.

For that brief second, it’s only the two of you in this bustling, noisy room, before the bubble bursts and he stalks over to you and your parents. It’s only then his eyes are torn off of yours, leaving you breathless and confused. And angry.

“Oh, good, already got us a table. Parkin’ was weirdly a nightmare out there,” he says, smooth and silky, announcing his presence. With one more flicker of his eyes to yours just before your mom pops up to hug him, blocking you from view, you see the mischievous amusement behind them. He’s enjoying the fact that he’s caught you off guard, that you’re flustered by his mere presence alone.

Yeah, angry sounds right. Joel Miller: certified prick.

After the fuss settles down, your parents explain they ran into Joel at a cafe when they got to campus this morning while you were still in class. Being their gracious, hospitable selves, they’d promptly invited him to come out to dinner with them tonight to catch up. Just your luck.

“The rest was history. Joel seemed awful happy to get to see you too, know it’s been a while,” your dad happily and obliviously trills. 

You’ll bet he seemed happy.

Joel moves in for an embrace, and you stiffen before feeling his meaty, thick arms draping around you, the warmth of his chest pressing closer, his breathing in your ear. Everything feels lit up inside of you, sparks skittering across your skin. You beg your knees not to buckle, reminding yourself that refusing to hug him begs more questions than you’d like from your parents. You try not to melt into the familiarity of it when your arms fling around his neck, try to keep it… casual. The word bites at you, stinging deeper each time you try to convince yourself of its place in this relationship. 

“Hey there, sunshine. How you been?” he mutters in his slow, sweet drawl. You can’t help but smile at your favorite pet name he’s had for you for years, wishing to wipe it off your face as he pulls back and sees it. There’s a returned softness there beneath all his amused loftiness. 

“G-good. Good,” you manage to stammer out. “How’s the business… How's Sarah?” 

You watch on as Joel stays planted right in front of you, the moment lingering longer than necessary or normal. You watch him have the same realization, clearing his throat and turning to pull out his chair, sitting down.

“Good,” he echoes you, smiling softly. “And good. Girl’s too busy with friends to see her old man tonight, though. Stuck with these two now.” He jabs a thumb in the direction of your parents. 

The dig gets a hoot out of your mom, her hand playfully nudging him. The noise of her balking breaks you out of your reverie where your eyes had been plastered on his features, begging them to tell you anything. 

You suck your lip between your teeth, blinking a few times to snap yourself out of this haze. You’d wanted this, hadn’t you? A chance to run into Joel, knowing that parents weekend would likely bring him this way. It’s too much, too… intense, to see him in your workplace, somehow merging his life with the one you lived separately from him. Back home the two of you had been on equal footing, but now he invaded your space, the places you were able to go to get away from whatever this was, to get away from him.

“I - I’ll go check on my tables. You guys decide what you want to order and I’ll come back. And I’ll talk to Chip about a family discount, or something.”

Your dad insists it’s not necessary before you scurry away, but you ask anyway. Chip unsurprisingly argues with you, huffing and puffing and generally being the asshole that he is. 

“You want a discount for your family? And where’s that money gonna come from? Maybe from your tips tonight? Would that work for you? Hm?”

“Forget it, Chip.” Muttered under your breath, you roll your eyes, feeling dejected as he stalks off to likely terrorize someone else or put on his fake schmoozing act with a loyal customer. 

When you glance back at your parents across the room, Joel’s eyes are on yours, intense and questioning. They burn into you, making you immediately turn away, trying to hide the glistening of tears from Chip’s beratement. It’s dumb, really. He’s always this big of an asshole. You aren’t sure why you expected anything other than his default or a single generous thing from him.

After pulling it together enough to do the rounds on your tables, you stop back to take your parents’ and Joel’s orders. Joel seems like he’s stewing, his energy quiet and distracted as he glances down at the menu, ordering a cheeseburger with a distant voice.

It’s not until you’re off at the point of sales system tapping in their orders that a presence sidles up beside you, the voice deep and hushed.

“That your boss there? The one lookin’ like he’s got somethin’ shoved up his ass?”

You do a slow turn to peer at Joel incredulously, glancing around as if you’re caught in a compromising position. You suppose maybe you are, but at least your parents are out of view from where you’re tucked back in the little hallway leading to the restrooms. It’s cramped back here with the service station, leaving Joel’s body close to yours.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, instead of answering his question.

“It’s not a crime to go to the bathroom,” he quips back. “Answer me.”

“What? You’re gonna beat him up?” You give Joel a pointed look before focusing back on the screen, punching in your dad’s Dr. Pepper.

“No, jus’ wanna know why a boss is out here makin’ his employees cry.”

“I wasn’t crying. He - he’s just an asshole. And why do you care? You’re not my -” you cut yourself off, shaking your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s fine. I promise. Please just… why are you here, Joel?”

“Havin’ dinner with your parents.”

You have to force in a deep, calming breath before sighing it out. “You like this. Surprising me, catching me off guard. You’re the one being an ass now.”

Joel visibly softens at your stressed demeanor. “It’s also not a crime to want to see you, y’know. And have some fun trippin’ you up along the way. I didn’t realize -”

Your eyes linger on his face for a long, quiet moment, burning with frustration and contempt and something deeper you won’t allow yourself to access. “I’ve got to get back to work,” you say, concluding the conversation as you snap the notebook containing your orders shut and push away from the computer. You brush past Joel’s shoulder, turning to glance back at him.

“It is nice to see you,” you utter, half hoping he can’t hear it over the bustle of the restaurant. When his lips twist to the side in a lopsided smile, you know he did.

“You too.”

Joel seems to behave the rest of the evening, paying the proper, appropriate amount of attention to you, treating you like the family friend that you are and nothing more. Just as it should be, you remind yourself every time a pang of sadness pulses through your chest.

When they pay and leave, you breathe a sigh of relief, working the rest of your shift with an odd buzzing in your head, picturing Joel’s tanned skin and rugged lines. The memory of the feeling of his body close to yours in that hallway makes you shudder, then curse yourself.

A mixture of disappointment and irritation worms its way into your mind as you realize that was your chance. That was the time you got to spend with Joel this weekend, when he was so close within your grasp. He’d be busy tomorrow, spending time with Sarah, letting her tote him around campus - showing him where she takes her classes, her favorite places to eat, her dorm that is likely decorated with purple accents and posters of her favorite bands.

You’d missed the opportunity to actually see him, too busy being pissed at him for existing in your sacred space, for never leaving you alone no matter how hard you tried to get him out of your head. You never knew when the next time would come around - even if you were back home, time spent around Joel was never guaranteed. Nor was it appropriate.

You worry your lip into oblivion, realizing it’s for the best, anyways, as you push the back door to the bar open after your shift, letting the cool night air greet your grimy, post work skin. You go to round the building, heading for the bus stop on the main street that will take you exactly twenty five minutes and eleven stops back to your dorm.

A voice cuts in, seeming to come from the darkness itself. “You always wear shorts that short to work?”

God damn it. You flinch and then press your lips together, slowly turning your head to the corner of the parking lot, following the gruff, familiar voice. You see Joel leaning against the front of his truck, arms crossed over his chest. He’s half illuminated by the streetlamps placed periodically across the asphalt, casting long shadows on him. The blue flannel he wears is stretched tightly over his arms, the sleeves rolled up to reveal those forearms that make you feel more than you’d ever care to admit. 

“Better tips,” you reply, nonchalant. You adjust your bag on your shoulder, walking over to him. You stop short, giving a wide berth between the two of you, attempting to avoid the always inevitable pull you feel towards him.

“That so?” he says, sounding amused. Joel lets his eyes roam up from your feet, scanning your bare legs, drinking you in all the way up your chest until his gaze rests on your face where it softens. He’s obvious about it, not caring to hide the lust that lives between the two of you now that you’re alone.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, feeling like a broken record. You watch as he turns and starts walking to the back of the truck. You peer around to see the bed is open, staunchly crossing your arms and not following him.

“Thought I’d give you a ride home,” Joel throws over his shoulder.

“What if I had my own car here?”

“You don’t,” he punches out. “Parents told me they hate you takin’ the bus so late.”

You quietly groan to yourself. Of course they did.

“And I thought you could use one of these after a long shift,” Joel adds on, proudly holding up a six pack of cheap, generic beer, strung together by plastic loops. You give him a sardonic laugh, finally giving in and making your way to the back of the truck. Joel has it parked with the bed facing the far corner of the parking lot, looking directly into the thicket of trees beyond that separates Chip’s from the McDonald’s behind it. It’s late, the lot nearly empty and the businesses around you all quieted down for the night. Some kind of thickness hangs in the air, otherworldly and separating you from reality, pressing in on you to be so alone with Joel.

“Aren’t you driving?” you ask, brows raised. 

“Ain’t for me. It’s for you.”

“Miller Lite,” you say, gesturing to the six pack. “Clever. And disgusting.”

He smirks, tearing one out of its loop and handing it to you. It’s chilled, but not cold, and you nearly grimace. You don’t even like beer, but being around Joel still makes you nervous so you crack it open, listening to the little click of the pull tab and ensuing fizzy noise from the liquid inside, then take a long swig. 

“Attagirl,” Joel comments passively. Your heart flutters at the small praise and you peer at him, doelike, from over the can, hoping your eyes don’t give you away. Of course they do, they always do. You look down, shuffling your feet, clad in your black, non slip work sneakers.

His hand is hesitant, reaching out to you from where he now leans against the open truck bed, clasping around your wrist with a gentle authority. It tugs you, forcing you to take a step towards him.

“Joel…” you warn, still unable to bring your eyes up. You know if you do, you’ll fold.

“Hm?” he rasps, moving you closer still. Joel’s legs and feet come into view, thighs thick and meaty in their denim, his work boots dirty and scuffed. It made something inside of you flutter again, these details about him. You liked his mess and his manliness, the way he didn’t give a shit if his shoes were dirty, but that they were functional. You like his worn denim with the outline of his wallet seared into the back pocket from too much use. You like… him.

“Come sit,” he begs of you, and despite your best efforts, you’re unable to resist. You hop up onto the back of the truck, letting your feet dangle while taking another sip of crappy beer. He pulls himself up next to you, and leans closer, knuckles brushing along your neck, making you shiver. It’s heavenly and electric, everything you’d craved and missed and wanted, never able to stop thinking about these calloused hands and the man they’re attached to.

“We… we can’t do this again,” you force yourself to utter, fiddling with the pull tab on the can held in your lap.

Joel’s hand freezes. “You got a college boyfriend now or somethin’?” he spits out, unable to hide the greed from his voice.

“No…” you admit.

“Alright, why not then?”

“We just… shouldn’t.”

“Y’weren’t sayin’ that over winter break. Or durin’ Thanksgiving, or the summer before that when I was fuckin’ myself deep inside of you, lettin’ you call me your daddy,” he drawls out lazily, continuing to softly revere your neck with his hands, slowly moving to your shoulder and back, fishing underneath the collar of your branded Chip's tee shirt to find bare skin. 

You swallow hard, feeling your cheeks blazing at the memories of how caught up in it you’d gotten. “I - I don’t think…”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Just don’t think.”

You finally dare a flash of your gaze to his, finding his eyes dark and wanting. “Joel…” you plead again, unsure of how to express anything else. “This isn’t… right. Who you are to me, my parents. You know that, right?”

He licks his lips and nods, moving in close and ghosting them over your neck. Your eyes roll back, your touch-starved, needy body begging you for more. “Torture myself over it all the damn time, pretty girl,” he rasps right next to your ear.

“Then why did you come here tonight?” you ask in a lusty whisper as his lips attach to your skin, sucking softly. Your breath catches in your throat, fighting a whine.

“I don’t know. I jus’... did,” he says earnestly, sounding pained. “I wanted it. Didn’t care ‘bout the rest. I wanted to see you, just us.”

Your heart pitter patters in your chest, that pesky, squeezing feeling of it that always takes over around Joel pulling taut. You know he doesn’t mean it, that he doesn’t want you. He wants what you offer - your body, your naïveté to stay involved in this, your company when he’s lonely. It was hard to say just how Joel felt about you, because he’d never dare say it out loud for fear of making this too real. 

His scent invades you - musky and something fresh and nature inspired, pine maybe - and you feel yourself folding in real time.

“Joel…” you warn one last time without any resolve behind it, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzles into your neck. You want this. You don’t want this. You want him. You don’t want this uncertainty, this unstructured and wild thing that you two have become tangled up in. 

It happens before you can even register your body moving of its own accord, crashing your lips into his waiting ones. His hands are fast, eager, to touch every part of you now that you’ve given some semblance of a go ahead. Squeezing, groping, one hand relishing in the feel of your tits, the other cupping your cheek, pulling you deeper into the searing kiss.

“Fuck,” he mutters when your hands move with equal fervor on his body - squeezing his thigh, wrapping around him the to clutch the hair at the base of his neck. “The hell says we shouldn’t be doing this…”

You shake your head, smiling into the kiss. “Probably everyone.”

“Makes me want you more, baby,” Joel counters, and you nod feverishly in agreement, squeaking in surprise when he pushes you down to the truck bed, swinging himself over to straddle you. His weight crushes down, comforting and arousing all in one, no time to even dwell on it before his lips are on yours again, a hand plunging between to cup you through your shorts. Warmth flows freely between your legs, the fabric dampening the sensation but it’s still too much, too built up, and you buck your hips.

“I want these shorts gone,” he demands. “Everyone wishin’ they got a peek under these, givin’ you all those tips, except at the end of the night it’s me right here, gettin’ everythin’ they want.”

Your head goes fuzzy, swimming with lustful thoughts as his dirty talk ramps up. It turned out that Joel Miller had the filthiest mouth you’d ever encountered, something you’d never have expected from the quieter, gruff man. He was an archetype of southern politeness most of the time - not without his sass, sure - but you’d never expected… this.

“Take them,” you breathe out. Joel grins above you, unbuttoning the shorts with ease, hooking his fingers in the sides.

“You’d let me, really? Right here… right out in the open?” Joel tsks, the grin on his face spreading into something wicked. You blink back to reality, to the parking lot around you, and yet your answer remains unchanged.

“Yes,” you whisper, feeling shame burn at your cheeks.

Joel works your bottoms down slowly, taking your panties with it and speaking unhurriedly. “Let anyone who comes to see what all the fuss is about see all of this, would you?”

“Yes,” you answer dutifully.

“God damn.” He chuckles, tossing your shorts to the side, leaning back to glimpse at the bottom half of you, now exposed to him. “Dunno what’s worse. This, or that closet at your parent’s place. You’re a dirty little bitch, ain’t you?”

You nearly growl. “You love it,” you shoot back, spreading your thighs wide open for him. 

Staring between them with a certain wonder about him, he answers. “I do.”

He sinks himself down, moving to pleasure you, pulling your clit into his mouth and giving it a gentle suck. You yelp, a tiny squeak that has your hand flying over your mouth to quiet yourself down.

Joel moves his tongue to lap at your folds, drinking in the sweet slickness you’ve already poured out for him. The slickness that had been pooling between your thighs just at the sight of him earlier tonight. 

“You been this wet all night for me?” he asks incredulously, toying a finger through it now, circling your clit in a slow, tortuous circle.

You whimper first as an answer. “You - you make me -”

“I know I do. Ain’t easy to hide a hard fuckin’ cock under the table with your parents either, y’know. Wearin’ shorts like that on that gorgeous ass of yours.” He tsks into your pussy before slurping again, groaning as your arousal starts to coat his beard.

Your chest heaves, desperately needing more from him, his satisfaction with toying with you going longer than you can handle tonight. Not after how long it’s been.

“Please, J-Joel.”

He chuckles darkly. “We both know that ain’t the name you want to call me right now.”

He was right, the word had hung on your tongue since the second you’d been alone together, since you felt his warm hands exploring your skin. It came out somehow more naturally than you’d expected or even wanted, but something about it just felt… right.

Self conscious, you hold back and grumble as he withholds contact from you, staring up expectantly. “Come on, angel. I wanna hear it, too. Been too long.”

“Please, daddy…” you correct yourself shyly, readjusting to the word on your tongue. Joel’s face, shadowed by the yellow light of the closest streetlamp, breaks into a smirk.

“That’s right. Right now, when we’re like this, I’m your daddy, aren’t I?”

You nod and he continues to lick your needy cunt as a reward, swirling his tongue over the delicate bud near the top. “Yes, you are.”

Joel’s tongue moves faster, urged on at your breathless cries for him. “And you’d want to come for your daddy, wouldn’t you?”

The words twist your core tighter, the warmth building to a near breaking point. “G-god, yes. Y-yes!” You cry out louder as he sinks a finger inside, crooking it to make you go a little dizzy. You clamp a hand over your mouth again, tighter this time, stifling your cries.

Joel pulls back, a string of saliva and arousal connecting the two of you. His finger keeps the pressure on that spot inside of you, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin as the most painful tease.

“Nuh-uh. Think you should be loud. Unless… you don’t want your coworkers to hear ya? Or better yet, that asshole boss of yours?”

You picture the ramifications of what Joel is saying, the way Chip’s face would go red, twisted up in anger before he likely fired you. You break into a cheeky smile, and without conviction you say, “I - I shouldn’t."

“You should be doin’ a lot of things right now, sweetheart. But here we are. Don’t act like you don’t like the idea of pissin’ off that bastard.”

You chuckle, nodding in a dazed agreement as Joel glides his nose over your sex, flicking his tongue out periodically and making you start to squirm impatiently. “Bet he wants to fuck you, too. Such a pretty, perfect girl. Bet he wants to bury his mouth in this sweet god damn perfect cunt.” He punctuates his words with a deep inhale to your pussy, his nose now tracing a little circle over your clit. 

His words send you reeling - something about the possessiveness he holds over you makes you clench around his digits like you’ve never done for anyone else. “Please -” you beg before you can even think.

“Please you want him to fuck you?”

You sigh in lustful, irritated frustration. “D-damn it, Joel. No. You.”

“Need daddy to fuck you good, don’t you? These college boys ain’t doin’ it for you, are they?” he purrs into your skin, finally pulling himself from between your legs to glide up over your body, shielding you completely.

You feel yourself flush hot, still sheepish even after all these months affected by his dirty words and that stupid, yet hot - so hot, god why is it so hot - title he’s bestowed himself. A tickle of embarrassment creeps into your belly knowing that you’ve hardly pursued anyone at school, never able to find exactly what you’d already had all along - only it wasn’t yours to keep. It never could be.

“I - I -” you mumble, avoiding eye contact as his face hovers above yours.

“What? They’re that bad?” he teases, and you bite your lip.

“There aren’t many… relations going on, okay?” You grimace, finding his dark eyes and seeing him amused, yet studying you carefully, more seriously.

Joel throws you the tiniest smirk, but his voice is deep and sincere. “Damn shame for all of them. But makes me awful happy to hear on account of myself.”

You swallow, nodding, feeling an anxiousness playing in your belly. “Have - have you…? Since we last…?” You don’t know why you even ask, why you’re hellbent on setting yourself up to be hurt.

Joel hesitates, debating for a moment, then leans in to kiss you, long and deep. He pulls back, then shakes his head. “Not since December, no.” The words are hushed, whispered, one hand squeezing at your hip. 

The moment is tense - too much so - and the urge to escape it crashes into you. You shift underneath him, pressing your hips up into his to entice him. “Don’t you want to fuck me then before ol’ Chip gets his chance?”

Joel practically growls, his hold going tight. “Wouldn’t fuck you like I do.”

You shake your head, licking your lips and feeling the flicker of desire reignite between your thighs that had briefly paused. “We’ll see about that,” you say, raising your eyebrows.

“God damn it, kiddo, you’re tryin’ to piss me off.”

“It’s better when you’re irritated with me -” You lick your lips, your hands finding the waistband of his jeans, toying with it. “Daddy.”

That same growl erupts from his throat, aggravated and breathless. His hands scramble with yours to free his cock, and you can’t help but peer between your bodies to catch the sight of it. You love every bit of his body, love seeing the way it moves for you, with you. The way that it evokes things in you you’d never known possible, hitting all of your buttons just right.

Only getting a short glance at his erection, your body is quickly handled by Joel’s rough, eager hands rolling you onto your stomach. You’re held down immediately, his weight crushing into you, nearing on uncomfortable with the bumps and ridges in the bed of the truck. One hand presses to the back of your head as he mounts you, the hot skin of his cock teasing at your ass.

All you can do is whimper, your head straining to look back at him as he spreads your ass cheeks, slipping between them and to your slick core, nudging at your entrance. Anticipation hangs in your labored breaths until he enters you, the tension released in an exhale of relief and sharp tenderness at the full stretch of him. 

Joel wastes no time slamming into you, satiating every fantasy you’d had of him, every desirous, late night thought that caught you off guard since your last rendezvous. It was always just as you’d remembered it - a miraculous connection of your bodies that seemed to stump the two of you every time you’d tried to make sense of it.

“Hell yes, angel, you always take me so good, so perfect,” Joel grunts out as he thrusts into you. “Never complainin’, jus’ takin’ what you’re meant to.”

Your eyes roll back slightly as he presses impossibly deep inside of you. Despite everything - his size, your ages, the myriad of reasons this shouldn’t even be happening right now - it feels like the perfect fit.

“S-so good,” you whine , breathless as his body starts to lean in close, his chest pressing against your back.

“So good, who?” Joel reminds you, his voice now rumbling right in your ear.

“F- Daddy. So good daddy,” you quickly spit out, lost in the moment. Joel had once called you cock dumb, and you’d wanted to scoff, but moments like these proved it to be a very real phenomenon. You typically consider yourself relatively level headed, but right now you’re completely helpless to the power he holds, all thought centered on the way he slips in and out of you, every sensation and nerve lit up from the drag of the head of his cock inside of you.

You shudder, feeling his hulking form so close as he brings his lips to your ear, wet kisses trailing to your neck. He’s always loved your neck - it was the first thing he’d deigned to touch all those months ago that had felt charged, different than your typical interactions. That’s when he’d drawn you in, hooked you and pulled you into this whirlwind.

You scramble a hand back to reach for him, touch him, but he grabs it, tracing his fingers over your palm, interlacing them with yours for a brief moment before your wrist is pinned down. He fucks you harder, faster, his lips bouncing against your neck before they latch on, sucking hard.

“J-Joel!” you cry out in a panic, realizing the possibility of a mark being left with an impending meet up with your parents tomorrow.

“It’ll be fine,” he purrs against your sensitive skin, sucking a little harder before moving to another spot. "Jus' leavin' you with a little somethin'."

You see stars as his cock presses as deep as it can go on his next thrust, and you lose the will to fight a losing battle. You have makeup for a reason, you suppose.

You moan, loud and clear, suddenly unable to even care about the world around you, an audience or Chip or any of your coworkers rounding this truck and seeing you getting absolutely ruined by a man well over twice your age. None of it matters when you have Joel so close to you, so ready to please you and take care of you.

“G-god, you’re so deep,” you whimper out in a garbled haze as he keeps up his punishing thrusts, letting the head of his kiss the deepest parts of you.

Joel chuckles dryly, doubling down on his efforts, the both of you panting, close to reaching something extraordinary together. “Mmm,” he groans into your ear, still lapping at your neck periodically. “What d’you want with an old man like me anyway, huh?”

It’s a question you’ve asked yourself dozens of times, one you’ve never quite found the answer to, even after searching deep within yourself. Joel was brutal in the sheets but also sweet, and maybe that was a balance you’d been seeking without knowing it. The illusion he created of not caring was always overpowered by the look in his eyes that told you there was something more there, something you both wanted to build upon but knew you never could. So you took moments like this - dark and rushed and secretive in parking lots - and made the most of them while you could pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Instead of saying all of that, you just mumble out through your panting, “Y-you know why.”

“That’s right, this big cock, fuckin’ you like nobody else can,” Joel replies for you, and you nod languidly, your eyelids heavy, your mind concentrated now on the heat building deep in your belly, furling tighter with every thrust.

“R-right there, oh my god,” you breathe, pressing your hips into each thrust to pull him that much deeper, to make each crash of your bodies into one another that much harder.

Joel moans quietly, attempting to stifle the lusty little sound but it's music to your ears, listening to him fall apart for you. “Come for me, sweetheart, s-shit, daddy needs to hear you…”

“D-daddy!” you whine out loudly, knowing he loves to hear that name nearly pornographic off your lips in these heated moments. Your pants and noises break into little moans that crescendo as bursts of pleasure wash over you. Every muscle is taut and taking Joel’s harsh, relentless thrusts into you, nearly making you scream with how vibrantly every sensation seems to crash over you.

“Y-yeah, let ‘em hear it. Christ you sound so pretty f’me, baby. Milk daddy’s cock, f-fuck that’s it…” Joel’s string of praises reaches your ears in a distant fog before his hips stutter inside of you and he’s spilling himself deep and full. You clench around him one last time, shuddering at the sensation as your skin tingles pleasantly. You feel floaty, far gone as you try to regain your bearings, slumped and ass up on the cool material of the truck bed. Reality comes back slowly as Joel kisses down your back, planting one on your ass cheek before giving it a playful bite and kneeling next to you.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asks softly, and for some reason, despite feeling elated, tears prick at the back of your eyes. It’s too much, too emotional. You will them away in a second, not daring to let Joel see.

“Mhm,” you weakly utter, nodding. Joel’s hand strokes along the side of your head, and you peer up at him with a slack smile, finding that he’s giving you one back. 

He comes down to your level, kissing your forehead. “Best yet, maybe,” he says playfully, but you aren’t sure you feel like laughing.

“Maybe,” you ponder, watching Joel’s face morph into a more serious expression. He curls his fingers around your ear, tracing shapes along your hairline, your neck, your shoulders as you stay just as you are for a long, quiet moment. He guides you to sit up, silently handing you your discarded clothing, helping you dress as the mess of him slips down your thighs. You have the passing thought that maybe he has napkins in his glove box, but then decide you’d rather have the reminder of him.

Joel sits next to you on the edge of the truck bed again, and interlocks his hand with yours. “I - I’ve got a hotel, right on campus. I could take y’home, but I’d like if you came back w’me for the night.”

His words give you pause, a tiny inhaled breath as you go to speak, snapping your lips closed and looking down at your lap for a beat. “Is that a good idea?” You ask for so many reasons, knowing that Joel is as acutely aware of all of them - the worst being that the longer you spend together, the harder it is to come back to reality.

“It ain’t a bad one,” he rasps, sultry and rough, and you crack a tiny smile. Always persuasive and charming when he needs to be.

“It’s not,” you admit, looking into his inquiring gaze.

“W-well?” he asks, nudging your side. “Jus’ one more night. I hardly get to see you, an’ you can go in the mornin’.”

You know how the night will go. You’ll both think you’re there for the sex - to sweat and say dirty things and pant all over again until you both come so hard that it boggles your mind. You’ll convince yourself that’s all it is, until you end up staying up late - talking, laughing, held in the other's arms. Intertwined together, bodies naked and comfortable with the other, because you’ve been here before.

You’ll both find yourself wanting to shy away from that fact that more is there - a real connection, two people with unlikely similarities, that just… get the other. You’ll both get lost in it, until the sun shines the next morning and you have to pretend that it doesn’t exist, that it was some figment of the power that the night holds over a person’s emotions, those dark twilight hours taking over your minds.

But you’ll both know that isn’t true, and there is nothing you can do about it.

“Okay,” you tell him, knowing the fate you’re subjecting yourself to - one that’s as wonderful as it is confusing. It hurts at times, but the spectacular things this man makes you feel outweighs it all. It’s worth it, that pain, to be able to find one another time and time again, and maybe even dream of more someday.  “Let’s go.”

divider by @/saradika-graphics!

[bloodlinesgirly]

Make up sex- Roman Reigns

18+ warnings: Cursing, unprotected sex, toxicity?, makeup sex, pnv, cunnilingus, no caps intended, pet names, daddy kink, slight breeding kink

A/N: it’s been so long i’m sorry, i haven’t had much interest in writing lately but im trying to get back into it!! sorry for any mistakes

word count:1240

“i’m not dealing with this right now” you roll your eyes, the scoff you let out just fueling him even more.

“yeah keep that shit up.” he steps were heavy as he paced the room. “ion know if you think you’re slick, but you’re not.” the pacing stopped and he scratched at his beard like he always did when he was mad.

“you won’t even tell me what i did roman.”

“you know damn well what you did. posted up like that on socials thinkin’ i wouldn’t see it” you groan as you think back on what he’s talking about. A picture he took of you on your trip last month. the floral pattern of the dress hugged your curves and dragged in the sand at your feet. the slit up to your hip was displayed as you posed. “that’s really what you’re all fucked up about? a picture?”

“did you really think it wouldn’t bother me?” his laugh was bitter. he took a few steps closer to you, frustration radiating off of him.

“considering you prance around half naked on tv every week, no i didn’t think a dress would bother you.” roman wasn’t the type to be insecure, he knew you were his and how you dressed/what you posted wasn’t his concern. it’s seeing the way people talked that had him pent up.

“it ain’t the dress.” he ran his hand over his face. “you knew what them comments would look like before you even posted it.”

“oh whatever” you roll your eyes.

It takes time for Roman to be sorry, but when he’s ready boy is it perfect.

“m’sorry baby, i should’ve just said something.” roman’s tongue lapped at your neck, trailing down your chest. His hands squeezed at your waist, ass, thighs, and pretty much everywhere else he could get them. he lives for how perfectly you fit against him, like you were made for him to touch.

“was that so hard?” you sigh, your fingers twirl in his hair as you savor his touch. Roman didn’t like to apologize, he never has. a quiet moan leaves your lips when he reaches your breast. quickly he pulls the cup of your bra down, swirling his tongue around your nipple.

“yeah, but it ain’t your fault you're pretty.” he placed a kiss on your cheek before moving to your lips. the kiss was messy, one hand making its way to your throat and applying a little pressure. his tongue invaded your mouth, clashing with your own. there was something pornagraphic about the way his saliva dripped down your chin and the string of it that connected your lips when he pulled away. his eyes burnt into your skin, lighting a fire in the path of his gaze. “go lay down for me, let me apologize the right way.” his eyes flickered towards the couch. without another word, you did what you were told. your thighs clenched together, looking for relief from the dull throb between them. Roman’s shirt was discarded as he stepped towards you. his abs flexed with each movement, you could feel the heat pooling in your belly from just the sight of him. He leaned down to place another sloppy kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees in front of you.

his fingers delicately find their place in the waist of your pants sending shivers through you. you lift your hips to help him get them down to your ankles. “spread those legs for me baby.” roman’s head dipped down to your waist, placing open mouth kisses to your lower belly. The wet spot on your panties was on full display as he ran his thumb over your clit. he wrapped his hand around your ankle, lifting it off the floor, leaving you spread open in front of him. “roman please” your hips stutter against his thumb, causing the pressure to increase. “please what mama?” he smirked against your inner thigh.

“you’re supposed to be apologizing, not teasing.” you glare down at him and he removes your panties, the breeze making you shiver. his tongue laps at your clit softly before he begins making out with your pussy. moving back and forth between your clit and your hole. “so good for me baby” he groans against you. you rock your hips against his face softly, moans escaping your lips. “more?” his eyes flick up to you. “mhmm- fuck roman”

his middle and ring fingers enter you with ease, stretching you open just how you liked it. “make me cum daddy” you moan and wrap his hair around your fingers. you can hear his growls muffled by the squelching of your wetness around his hand. you can feel yourself tightening around him, he sounds starved, like he’s never had anything better. with a few more flicks of his tongue you cum. he groans at the feel of your hands tugging at his hair combined with your juices dripping down his chin.

“you see what you do to me.” he says as he leans back on his heels. his abs are coated in a thin layer of sweat and his dick his fighting against the fabric of his pants. “y’know what to do baby c’mere” he tugs at your ankle a bit, signaling you to come down to him. you make your way to the floor, fingers immediately finding the button to his jeans and freeing his length. “take it how you want” his head lulls back when you take him into your hands.

you position yourself above him and rub his tip against your pussy. his precum adds to the slick already there. his hands find your waist as his eyes are glued to your actions below. “sshit” he speaks through his teeth as you sink down on him. “all the way baby you can take it” he groans. you place your feet on either side of him and slowly bounce your hips up and down. his grip on your waist tightens as he tries to guide you. “need you daddy” you whine as you rock yourself faster. you wrap your hands around his neck, bringing him closer to you. he adjusts his position allowing himself to thrust into you from below. his pace was fast but thoughtful, making sure he hit that spot that made you coat his cock every time.

“fuckkk roman” your hands searched for anywhere on his they could touch. you craved to be closer than you already were. his pace never let up as he kissed your lips. it was messy but fitting, your teeth clashed and your tongues fought. you could taste yourself on him. “gonna make me cum in this pussy” he growled against your lips. “you want me to fill you up baby?”

“yess- daddy please” your voice was broken and frantic. roman’s thrust got deeper, harder as he felt himself getting close. “fuck fuck fuck, yeah mama” he groans and rocks your hips to meet his thrust. you feel your insides warm up as his cum fills your pussy. you stay still for a moment, feeling it overflow and drip down him. he pulls out and watches it drip down your thighs. “such a pretty pussy baby” he groans, dragging a finger through your slit. “m’sorry for yelling mama” he places a hand on your cheek and pulls you against him. “you apologized just fine” you giggle and settle yourself into his embrace.

[daylighted]

I need more baby!reader Dean , I adore everything you write 😭

i think... it's about time... i give u guys what u want ( dean flirting with baby )

sam had his hands full with lore clinging to him, just as dean had intended for things to go. see, that was the only reason he'd entertained your bizarre wish of turning his dad's journal into a girl at all. not that he'd admit it to himself or anything, but it was true. sam occupied meant that there were no witnesses to the fact that, very quickly, his entire resolve was crumbling away due to all of the chipping you'd done at it.

you! this girl that was yes, once his car, but now was this full-fledged human being. you, who liked to be pressed entirely to the window as he drove, taking in every sight with your nose against the glass. you, who held a hand over your heart every time you got anxious, and then proceeded to tear him apart in one sentence because of that anxiety. and you, who cried your eyes out after you said something you thought was too mean.

dean was screwed — but he was thinking of it less like a bad thing now and more like something that could, possibly, potentially, be good for him? this was just as new to him as it was to you, considering he'd never had someone be so utterly devoted to him like you were.

you were brushing your teeth at the sink, humming a song to yourself in the process. he loved showing you music. each song became your new favorite. dean didn't know, really, if you liked them because he showed them to you, or you genuinely liked them, and honestly? didn't care. he was never going to deny the fact that, no matter what it was, you were too damn cute, humming along to whatever metallica song came on next in his (absolutely not specially curated) cd collection.

"c'mon, baby, i don't have all day," he grumbles, tapping the tv remote against his thigh to the beat of the song you hummed to. "you said you wanted to watch..."

he trails off, because he knows you really well by now, and knows you'll fill in the blank. which you do, excitedly spitting out the foamy toothpaste in your mouth and all but leaping onto the bed next to him. "the witcher!" you were a little unbearable after learning that you came to existence because of a witch. dean in all of his whipped glory, thought it was as endearing as ever. "put it on! now!"

"i'm tryin'," he laughs, holding the remote over your head as he scrolls through the options on netflix. "hard to focus when you're bouncin' around over there." goddamn, was it. "sit still, will ya?"

all it takes is one ask for you to, expectedly. unexpectedly, you've decided to settle right on his lap. dean was well aware of how snuggly you got at nighttime, but this was a new level to it. he is suddenly extremely focused on the tv screen, and definitely not on your bare legs wrapped around his, or your head nuzzled into his chest. or anything in between. please, god, don't let him focus on anything in between.

"did you know i love you?" his heart skips a beat every time you say it, even though dean is well aware of how you mean it. not like the way he wishes you would, but somehow somewhere in between what he wants and something platonic. the only type of love that you knew was this, and he didn't want to do anything to selfishly divulge you away from your feelings, however convoluted and confusing they were.

dean nods, his free hand coming up to trail his fingers through your hair. "i know." and dean did. you made sure to tell him once a day, which was another new thing for him. "love you too, angel."

he feels the scowl before you even voice your complaints. you were baby. he should call you baby. but something about the phrase, love you too, baby felt entirely too real and serious, and you could handle it, but he couldn't. not like this.

"there you go," you say, and instantly, dean's mouth tilts up in a smile, "trying to name me again."

your head lifts to meet his eyes, and he watches as the scrunchy irritation to your face melts into a warm smile. you always smiled when he did. you were a girl full of so much love, it just spilled out of every place it could. "it's called a nickname," he says, not for the first time, either. very common occurrence because dean cannot for the life of him stop calling you pretty names, "you can call me nicknames too, you know."

"no." you scoot up in his lap, and he has the willpower and strength of a fucking god, because he does not, in fact, whimper like he could have. could have! but didn't. you really should not fucking do that, but you don't know any better. he has to remind himself that you don't know that you sitting in his lap and gliding against him is enough to set his soul on fire.

dean raises an eyebrow up at you as you resettle on his stomach, your knees under his armpits. he sets the remote aside, his hands going to your waist to steady you. to steady you, he tells himself, even though you've never looked more secure in your life. "no? don't even want to try one?"

"you're dean, and i'm baby. that's just how it is and has been." you lean down quickly, and dean actually gasps, stuttering on his breath in his throat, thinking you're going to kiss him. he deflates when instead, you press your forehead to his, nose-to-nose. you don't know better. it's a constant mantra in his head. "you can't go changing it up now."

"you could call me baby."

your minty breath fans across his face, your eyes trailing over every inch of his face. you always look at dean so reverently. no one has ever looked at him the way you do, like there's nothing broken and nothing to fix, just beauty in every crevice.

"i don't want to." the honesty makes him grin, shaking his head in his amusement.

your hands come up to hold his face in between them, your palms flat on his cheeks, the scratch of his late-night stubble tickling against delicate skin of your hands. he knows it tickles, just by how you start to giggle. god help him. "i could call you angel. or sweetheart. or darlin'. i could call you babygirl."

something shifts in your eyes. it's subtle, barely noticeable, but you've got your face against his and he can see everything from here. he traces his fingertips along your ribcage through your shirt — his shirt, actually, but it'd taken up permanent residence on you. "no."

"no?" he echoes again, his head tilting to the side. your grip on his face tilts it right back, and dean can't help but laugh heartily. "don't tell me my pretty baby hates bein' called babygirl."

"stop it." you're blushing. your skin is warm beneath his hands, and all he wants is to reach under your shirt and feel it properly. a reminder to himself that you were real, and not some hyper-realistic delusion he'd been having for weeks.

it's all too easy to tip his chin up, so close to kissing you that his mouth opens and he feels the brush of your lips against his like electricity. "why? you're baby, and you're a girl. what's wrong with that?"

dean hadn't ever riled you up before. sure, he'd pissed you off, he'd endured plenty of verbal lashings from your sharp tongue, but this was new. this was the first indication that you loved him like he wanted you to love him.

"not funny."

"very funny, baby," and then suddenly, it's just as unfunny as you said, because your eyes fall to his mouth, and now he's a bit frozen in place. he bunches up the sides of your shirt beneath his fingers so it's raised enough for him to slip his fingers beneath, the warmth of your skin against his sending shivers down his spine.

you're going to kiss him, he thinks. you won't know what it means, and you definitely aren't going to know what you're doing, but he's already prepared for that. he'll guide you. he'll show you everything, actually, as long as you let him.

it's barely a proper touch of your mouth to his, but it's electric. he leans up to chase more of it, to seal the words into your mouth—

the hotel room door clicks as the lock releases, and dean stutters back with a jolt, his head knocking against the headboard. you turn your head to the door, not even bothering to move even though you really, really should, dean's a fucking wreck and you almost kissed him and—

"oh, come on, dean." sam's irritation is visible when he meets his brother's eyes, shrugging off the coat he was wearing.

dean lifts his shoulders in an exasperated shrug. "we are witching the witcher, sammy."

lore points at the tv screen. "you are not watching anything. you are queued up to watch cocomelon."

dean stretches his neck to look over your shoulder, and his expression flattens. he was fine with lore, he didn't have any qualms against her existence, but he was beginning to regret letting you swindle into creating her.

dean doesn't know if he's thankful or not when you climb off of his lap and go over to lore, already babbling about... god, what did you two even talk about? every time he tried to focus on the two of you together, he instead just zeroed in on you, and everything else went blank.

everything was still blank now. he watches your eyes light up with the weight of your joy, and he can't help but wonder if it meant anything at all, or if it was just a moment that you two had, and nothing more.

once again, all dean could do was hope it was something more.

notes. how many times will dahlia change her format for baby!reader: the people may never know. this came out sm longer than expected PLSSSS I JUST LOVE BABY & DEAN OKAY !!!

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @h8aaz @mahi-wayy @bejeweledinterludes @h8aaz @jjmbbg @valjy

[meelusinee]

Is it cheeky to ask for more of that Mattheo and love potion thingy 🦎

of course not anon! i especially enjoyed writing this one

OBSESSION'S BEST FRIEND | M.R X READER

word count \ 908 | not so fluff | slash / mattheo riddle / fem!reader

in which mattheo figures out the lasting effects of amortentia

minor cw & tw: use of amortentia (which is considered drugging) & manipulation

Mattheo felt his face’s temperature rising as he looked at the scene currently unfolding, teeth clenched together so hard he felt they might snap out from his gums. He could hear the blood running through his veins, could listen to the laughter of his best mates next to him if he focused hard enough. 

“What are you laughing at?” he spat.

Theodore was stood next to him, arms crossed against his chest. “Your face is funny when you’re jealous, you know that?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes before he heard Lorenzo’s voice from behind, most likely behind the bar that he was leaning again. “Why are you so worried anyways? She’s your girl, you know.”

“By potion.” Theodore hummed and nudged Mattheo. Mattheo huffed at that.

Theodore and Draco often reminded him of the fact that you were only won over by a love potion, joked that he wasn’t good enough to charm you naturally. He knew that was true, at least to a certain extent. He was too broken for you to love naturally.

So he had to add a bit of incentive for you.

He could hear Blaise and Pansy walking to the bar, Pansy’s hand squeezing his shoulder from behind his back. “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“Some Ravenclaw is talking to his girl.” Enzo snorted.

And wasn’t that a crime? 

Some guy talking to you. You, his perfect angel that could never do any wrong. Those innocent eyes peering into whoever was talking to you with a dazed expression. You didn’t know that they were trying to trick you, to get you away from him. Your actions were so precious to him that he was tempted to scoop you up and place you into a blanketed cocoon with no escape. 

“You do realize she can’t escape the Amortentia anymore, right?” Blaise asked blankly. His voice was always rather deadpan.

“Course she can,” Pansy muttered confusedly. “Doesn’t it run out?”

Mattheo looked over at Blaise confusedly as well, eyebrows furrowed together. He was running on the same notion, that the potion would run out. He always made sure to bake you a batch of chocolates every week or so, wanting to make sure that you always had Amortentia in your system.

“How long have you been giving her Amortentia?” Blaise asked Mattheo.

“Almost six months.” Mattheo muttered.

“Well there you go.” Blaise shrugged simply. “Most things usually build tolerance in people’s brains, but Amortentia works in the opposite kind of way. You’ve probably doubled it so much that she won’t even react to an antidote anymore. That combined with the extra effort you put in your potions?” he said, chuckling quietly. “Her mind is fucked.”

“What, so she’s stuck like that?” Theodore asked. Lorenzo was howling laughing at that, but Mattheo’s attention was focused solely on you.

Blaise shrugged again. “The chocolate might run it down a bit, but she’s probably too gone now.”

Mattheo could feel his ears ringing at that. Did you need to take the potion directly? Would you take it willingly, or would he force it down your throat.

He was willing to find out.

You felt your wrist burning slightly as your body landed on Mattheo’s bed, shivering at the anger you could feel radiating off of him.

“Matty?” you asked quietly, sitting up to look at him confusedly. You didn’t know why he was mad. Even still, you wanted to help. He was your boyfriend, and you liked seeing him happy.

He was currently digging through drawers, obviously trying to find something. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” you asked him quietly.

Mattheo found what he was looking for before walking over to you, kissing you as roughly as he could. “I’m just in a mood today, love.” he said.

“Can I help you?” you asked him, glad that it wasn’t anything you had done.

Mattheo smirked devilishly at that, kissing you breathless over and over again. He had a heart-shaped bottle of something in his hand, though you weren’t sure what it was. 

“What’s that?” you asked.

“You want to help me, right love?” he asked.

You nodded at his words, the need to help him overrunning your curiosity for him. “I do.”

“Then you’re gonna drink this for me, ‘kay?” he asked, holding the bottle up to your lips. His hands gripped at your chin so you couldn’t escape, fingers stretching your mouth open. You could feel drool running down the side of your face as he poured the liquid down your throat, eyes shut tight.

You grimaced at the taste before you started panting, looking at Mattheo with eyes in the shape of hearts. “Mattheo?” you panted confusedly.

“Did you like the taste of that?” he asked.

You looked at the bottle before nodding again, leaning your head forward with your tongue sticking out for more.

“Oh, you want more?” he asked, still keeping his grip on your chin as he poured more down.

Mattheo kept pouring, pouring the drink until there was nothing left to pour. He placed the glass down on the nightstand, the clink echoing in your mind as you looked up at him. “Mattheo.” you whined.

“Y/N.” he said with a small smirk on his face.

Your eyebrows furrowed confusedly, trying to figure what that was. “What was that?”

“Just a drink.” he whispered, kissing your neck up and down. 

You found yourself believing him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

a bit shorter, but mattheo nonetheless! i also like the idea of his friends knowing what was going on but not really saying anything, since we all know the slytherin boys can really be toxic guys and gals (and yet we love em still)

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! have a lovely day!

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

This is 1000% a rewrite of this series, I read through it recently to refresh my memory of the story and I actually died a little inside knowing this is how I wrote 3 years ago 😅 I deeply apologise so please this is my redemption post.

Soft Dom Bangchan x Female Reader Sub!

Genre: Dark Romance

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: No warnings yet, however, I am going to say this is strictly 18+ MDNI fan fiction.

Summary: In a world where submissives crave dominance and dominants seek out their submissives, a thrilling tension brews when deep emotions start to intertwine with binding contracts. What happens when the lines blur between desire and duty? Can a contract stay just a contract when the flames of passion ignite? As love weaves its way into the dynamic, are they prepared to face the tumultuous journey of balancing hearts and agreements? The stakes have never been higher—will they surrender to love, or will they fight to keep it in check?

A/N: would also like to dedicate this story to @daceydeath, thank you for always putting up with my deluluness, also thank you for putting up with my drama fill life honestly. I wouldn’t be still writing if it wasn’t for you encouraging me.

Chapter One

 

"Are you out of your mind, Grace?" you respond, a mix of disbelief and amusement in your voice. Surely, this can’t be serious—she must be joking, right?

 

"Absolutely, I mean it." She was your sole ally in this vast world, and there was something undeniably captivating about her dominant nature.

 

“What!.noooo, please, I’m not looking for one at the moment,” you replied, trying to sound convincing, although deep down, you knew it was a lie. The truth was you did desire a Dom to share laughs, experiences, and quiet moments with. However, the thought of finding a random guy on the internet made you feel uneasy.

 

Grace was aware of your past experiences and the fears that lingered from them. Your last relationship had left a sour taste in your mouth; he had been a bit too rough, disregarding the boundaries you tried to set. You often replayed those uncomfortable moments in your mind, unsure if you were ready to open yourself up to someone new. The idea of stepping back into the BDSM world felt daunting, and the online scene was even more intimidating. You longed for a genuine connection, but the anxiety of navigating it all made you hesitate.

 

"I have found a guy I think you will like...he classifies himself as a soft Dom, “As she spoke, her fingers quickly navigated her phone's screen until she found the image she was looking for. With a proud smile, she turned the device towards you, revealing a clear picture of the guy. His features were sharp and striking, framed by tousled hair that suggested a carefree spirit, and his expression was one of warm confidence. You could see the way his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, instantly drawing you in as she eagerly awaited your reaction.

 

You look closely at the profile photos. He catches your eye. "Grace, please tell me you haven't messaged him?" You watch her mouth curl into a mischievous grin. 

 

"He's here right now." She was such an asshole for doing this to you. "Okay, behave,” she warns, her teeth clenched tightly. With a mix of tension and determination, the young man strides toward the table, his expression revealing a blend of nervousness and curiosity.

 

"Umm, hi," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hint of nervousness in his voice. You glance up from your spot, and there, standing before you, a man of about 5 feet 7 inches tall. His brown hair is slightly tousled, falling just above his expressive brow. But it’s his eyes that truly captivate you—rich, warm brown, like molten chocolate, drawing you in with an intensity you didn’t expect. As he awkwardly chuckles, a shy smile breaks across his face, revealing a deep dimple in his left cheek, and he shifts his weight before sitting down beside you. The air feels charged with an unspoken connection, and you can’t help but feel your heart flutter at this unexpected encounter.

 

"Hello, I'm Chan," he said, extending his hand with a warm smile that momentarily lit up the elegant room. But as he leaned in closer to introduce himself the glass of red wine that grace, had ordered from the bar tipped over, spilling its contents across his Fendi black suit.

 

"Oh no, not again," he exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise as he quickly lifted the glass, but it was too late. The dark crimson liquid soaked into the fabric, threatening to leave a permanent stain.

 

Almost instantly, a waiter in a crisp white shirt and black bow tie appeared by your side, looking flustered. "I'm so sorry, sir," he said, his face flushed with embarrassment as he bent down to help with the clean-up. He hurriedly grabbed a stack of napkins and began to dab at the fabric, his movements quick but careful.

 

"We will get you another glass," the waiter added, waving his hand to signal the bartender to come over and replace the drink.

 

Chan shook his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes despite the situation. "No, no, it's quite alright, truly. This was all my fault. I really don’t need another glass, thank you," he replied, waving dismissively.

 

His gaze shifted back to you, and he hesitated for a moment before continuing. "But perhaps, miss—" He glanced at you with an inquisitive expression, silently asking for your last name to complete his introduction.

 

"Y/L/N," you replied with a playful smile, confidently shaking your head. "But no, thank you—I don't drink," you said, watching as the waiter redirected his attention to the bartender.

 

A soft "good girl" slipped from Chan's lips just as he attempted to wipe the wine stain off his jacket.

 

"Wait, don’t rub it! Dab… let me handle that," you said, leaning in closer, the thrill of the moment pulsating in the air. He met your gaze, his eyes lingering on you, drawn in by the tantalising view.

 

He carefully extended the jacket towards you, his fingers brushing against the fabric as he offered it. "Thank you, but you really don’t have to go through all this trouble," you replied, though your hands had already instinctively reached for the coat. With a napkin soaked in water from your glass, you began gently dabbing at the dark stain that marred the material.

 

He watched you intently, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "It’s important to act quickly; it stops the mark from spreading," you explained, your voice calm yet serious.

 

Just then, Grace, with a resigned sigh, pulled the clasp of her handbag shut with a decisive snap. "Well, this is off to a swimming start… I think I shall be heading out now," she announced, her tone laced with Amusement. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she made her way toward the restaurant door, her exit as swift as the unfolding drama around you.

 

"I'm really sorry she had you come all the way out here just to meet me," you said, brushing your hair back to clear your view.

 

He glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his wide eyes. "Honestly, I'm not," he replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

 

You caught his gaze and offered the jacket, carefully passing it back to him. "Just remember to use some stain remover when you get home. Let it sit for about 20 minutes, then give it a soak."

 

He grinned, taking the jacket, placing it behind him. "Stain remover, let it sit, then soak—got it! Thanks for the tip!"

 

"So, have you visited this place before?" he asked, a nervous itch at his shoulder blades giving away how he was feeling.

 

Leaning in closer, you locked eyes with him, feeling the weight of the moment. "I'm going to cut to the chase," you said, your voice low and confident. "I know Grace mentioned that I’m looking for a dom, but honestly, after our conversation, I don’t think your quite suited for that role."

 

Chan raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief curling his lips into a smirk. "Oh really? … What makes you think that?" His sudden loss of composure intrigued you, a thrill running down your spine as you recognised the shift in his demeanour.

 

With a playful giggle, you tilted your head slightly. "Well, for starters, you seem to be struggling to keep it all together," you teased, enjoying the way his confidence wavered under your gaze.

 

He chuckled, a charming smile spreading across his face as he glanced back down at his menu, the playful banter intensifying the electric tension between you. "Well… you might just have to be the one to keep it together for both of us," he replied, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes.

 

Curiosity bubbled up inside you as you contemplated where to go from here. With a gracious smile, you leaned back slightly, wanting to gauge his reaction. "Should we hit the reset button on this conversation?" you asked, your voice infused with intrigue. It was clear he was not one to back down easily; the playful challenge hung in the air, inviting exploration.

 

"I'm Y/N," you said with a warm smile as you extended your hand, ready for a handshake.

 

"Chan… or you can call me Chris for now," he responded, his eyes locking onto yours as he firmly grasped your hand. There was something reassuring in his grip, a blend of confidence and approachability. "So, tell me, Y/N… what do you like to eat? It's on me, obviously," he added, a playful smirk spreading across his face as if relishing the chance to treat you.

 

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. "Hmmm, if you're paying… I think I might just go for the lobster." A grin broke across your face, the thought of indulging in a luxurious meal making your stomach flutter with anticipation. He chuckled softly, seemingly unfazed by your choice, his gaze wandering back to the menu as he scanned the options with a thoughtful expression.

 

Suddenly, the same waiter who had attended to you earlier approached your table, a notepad in hand and a charming smile on his face. "Are you ready to order?" he asked, his tone professional yet friendly, clearly accustomed to the rhythm of the restaurant. The atmosphere was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of dishes.

 

“I’ll have the eye fillet” Chan said, flashing a warm smile as he looked up at you, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

 

"And Y/N will have the lobster, right?" he added, confidently placing the order for you. The thought of him being willing to pay for your $100 lobster meal sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

 

"Oh yes, please!" you replied, returning his smile with one of your own, sweet, and grateful as you addressed the waiter. He nodded politely, jotted down your orders, and then disappeared into the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant, leaving you and Chan in a cosy bubble.

 

"You honestly didn't have to order me lobster... I could have picked something else," you admitted, leaning in closer to him, the intimacy of the moment warming your cheeks.

 

Chan leaned in too, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lowered his voice slightly, creating an air of secrecy between you. "The truth is… I'm secretly hoping you don't eat it all so I can have some." The playful confession made your heart flutter; you loved how he relaxed in your company, the tension that once lingered starting to fade away.

 

"Maybe Grace was right about you," you teased, taking a sip of your water, savouring the cool refreshment as you tried to read the expression on his face, delighting in the rapport that seemed to blossom effortlessly between you two.

 

"Oh, you think so... hmmm, interesting," he said, leaning back in his chair, his fingers interlaced thoughtfully. “So why did you leave your last dom?” His gaze was steady, encouraging you to share more.

 

“He uhhhh... he was a sadist,” you began, you voice trailing off as memories flooded back. “I left him because he burnt me pretty bad." The weight of your confession hung in the air, a heavy reminder of a past that felt both distant and achingly close. As you recalled those terrifying times, it felt as though it all happened just yesterday; the emotional scars still fresh in your mind, a painful reminder of a relationship that had spiralled out of control.

 

 

"How severe is it?" His voice carried an undertone of concern, mixed with a curious edge that hinted he was trying to grasp just how serious the situation really was. The furrow in his brow and the intensity in his gaze suggested he braced himself for an answer that could change everything.

 

"Let's just say my back tells a story, “You replied, your tone deliberately flat. The scars weren't merely physical; they were haunting reminders of a past you rarely revealed. You wondered if he would probe deeper or gracefully allow this moment to linger in silence.

 

"So, fire is definitely a hard boundary for you, then?" His voice softened, now cautious as he delicately navigated a sensitive topic. It was evident he wanted to understand your limits without pushing you into uncomfortable territory.

 

"Yes, absolutely," you replied, a slow smile breaking through as you started to warm to the idea of Chris as your master.

 

"Noted," he said, folding his arms thoughtfully. "Did he ever mention anything about being into sadism?"

 

"No, not at all. He started off charming and sweet. I never would have agreed to play if I’d known. But over time, as our relationship deepened, his obsession with sadism began to surface."

 

"I'm truly sorry he treated you that way," Chris said softly, his voice filled with empathy as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. His gaze was intense, penetrating your eyes as if searching for a connection. "But if you decide to be with me…I promise I will never put you in a position like that." There was sincerity in his tone that made your heart flutter.

 

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. "But it's your turn now," you said, eager to learn more about him. "Why did you leave your last partner?"

 

A flicker of vulnerability crossed his face. "She left me... There were just certain expectations I couldn't fulfil, things she wanted from me that I couldn't overcome," he explained, his voice tinged with regret. "We came to the conclusion that it was best for her to move on." The admission stirred some unease within you, prompting you to dig deeper. "So, it sounds like… you weren't firm enough for her?"

 

A nervous tension sparked in the air as he pulled his hand away, his expression shifting as if he were retreating into himself. Just then, the waiter approached with the meals, momentarily breaking the atmosphere.

 

"Excuse me, sir… would you mind placing both meals in the centre of the table?" you asked, giving the waiter a warm, inviting smile. He nodded in agreement, carefully setting down the beautifully plated steak and lobster in front of you.

 

"Thank you so much. I truly appreciate it," you said, watching the waiter depart with satisfaction. As you turned back to Chris, you noticed a flicker of admiration in his eyes.

 

"Here, allow me," you offered, excitedly reaching for a lobster tail. With deft movements, you placed it beside the generous steak. You then sliced the steak in half, transferring one piece onto the lobster plate. After artfully arranging lobster tails atop the steak, you drizzled luscious lobster sauce over the entire presentation.

 

Once you had skilfully crafted the dish, you presented it to Chris, who looked genuinely captivated, his eyes wide in disbelief.

 

As he snapped out of his daze, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. "I believe they call this surf and turf."

 

His smile faltered, replaced with a thoughtful expression. "Thank you. I must be honest with you… I would like to discuss the possibility of a contract."

 

Chan POV

 

"Chan, come on, you really have to move on from Vanessa," Changbin asserted as he dramatically dropped onto the well-worn studio couch, the cushions sinking under his weight.

 

"I’ve moved on, seriously," I scoffed, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

 

"Then what’s the big deal about going on this date?" Changbin asked, tilting his head slightly and shifting to the edge of the couch, his curiosity evident in his expression.

 

"I don’t know, man... I’m just nervous," I admitted, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "What if she doesn’t like me? What if it all goes wrong? She doesn’t even know it’s supposed to be a date," I continued, my voice trailing off as I felt the weight of uncertainty settle in my chest. As I spoke, Changbin began packing up his headphones, clearly trying to focus on my dilemma.

 

Changbin was staring at me, his brow slightly furrowed and his eyes wide with confusion, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

 

"It's someone that Grace arranged for me to go on a date with," I explained, trying to keep the details vague. I didn't want to delve into the specifics of how the matchmaking had come about or share my mixed feelings about it.

 

"Oh, your hot friend Grace," he said with a smile. If only he knew what she was like, she would eat him alive. "When are you planning to hook me up with her?" he continued.

 

"I'm not… you're not her type" I mean, I wasn't lying. She liked women. 

 

"You just want her all to yourself," he said, his voice laced with a hint of jealousy as he fixed his gaze on the ground, his brow furrowing slightly.

 

"Anyway," I replied, meeting his eyes with a light smile, trying to shift the conversation away from the tension. "What do you think I should wear? We’re going to a really fancy restaurant, and I want to look the part."

 

He paused for a moment, considering my question, before finally saying, "Your black suit is stylish. It always fits you perfectly."

 

 

……

 

This brings me to the point where I find myself saying, "I would really like to offer you a contract," and I can't help but wonder, Chan, why do you always act this way? She barely knows you, and here you are, making a complete spectacle of yourself. I couldn't help but notice the advice about the stained shirt—I mean, it was a bold move on her part to share that with me. And the way she offered me half of her food was so generous. I realise that if I don't seize this opportunity now, I might never encounter another submissive like her again.

 

She smiled politely, a hint of amusement in her eyes, and replied, "I'm flattered…but don't you think you should get to know me a bit better first?" As she said this, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her gesture both casual and intimate, making me realise just how much I wanted to learn more about her.

 

"I'll be right back," I promised, glancing at her as a smile spread across her face. I knew that Vannesa always kept a stash of hair ties in my car, a little quirk of hers that I had come to appreciate. With a quick stride, I made my way to the parking lot, the cool evening air brushing against my skin.

 

Once I reached my car, I opened the glove compartment with a soft click. Inside, neatly tucked away among a few scattered receipts and an old parking ticket, were the hair ties — a colorful assortment that Vanessa loved. I picked out a bright pink one, its elastic still strong and ready for action.

 

"Perfect," I murmured to myself as I closed the compartment and locked my car's door. I turned and made my way back to the restaurant, my heart a little lighter with each step.

 

As I re-entered the warm, inviting space filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, I spotted Y/N sitting at our table, her hair slightly tousled. "Here," I said, extending the pink hair tie toward her. "Please… take this."

 

Her eyes sparkled with delight as she reached for it, the tension in her features easing with a grateful smile. In that moment, I could see how the small gesture meant the world to her.

 

A faint blush crept across her cheeks as she glanced down, an awkward smile breaking through her initial embarrassment. "Oh wow, thank you… I, umm, totally forgot to bring mine," she admitted, her voice light yet laced with a hint of self-consciousness.

 

I chuckled softly, remembering my own past. "You know, my ex used to always keep spare hair ties in the glove compartment of the car. I completely forgot they were even there until I saw you struggling with your hair," As I spoke, I took a decisive cut into the perfectly cooked steak on my plate, savouring the moment while trying to ease her discomfort.

 

"Well, thank you," she replied, returning my gaze with a warm smile.

 

As she tied her hair up, I couldn't help but notice how the sleek strands came together in a polished ponytail, accentuating the graceful curve of her neck. There was something undeniably captivating about her look, and I found myself drawn to the way the lighting caught her hair, making it shimmer. "I really like you with your hair up," I remarked, feeling a rush of warmth spread across my cheeks as her eyes lit up with my compliment. Her smile widened, and in that moment, the world around us seemed to fade away.

 

……

 

 As I glanced down at my watch, the glowing numbers caught my eye, and a sense of urgency washed over me. The night had slipped away faster than I had anticipated.

 

"Well, Chris…" she said softly, a hint of reluctance in her voice as she reached across the small table to grasp my hand. Her touch was warm and grounding, making it difficult for me to let go of the moment.

 

"I'll walk you to the car," I replied, hoping to prolong our time together just a little longer. After settling the bill, I led the way out of the cosy restaurant, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the sidewalk.

 

As we walked beside each other, the cool evening air wrapped around us, filled with the faint sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from nearby establishments. We made our way around the corner, where her car was parked under a lamppost, the light casting a gentle glow over its sleek silhouette. I couldn't help but steal glances at her as we walked, cherishing each second of this fleeting encounter.

 

"Thank you for tonight," she said with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with the soft glow of the overhead lights. "I assume Grace gave you, my number?" She laughed lightly, the sound as familiar as a favourite song. She and Grace had a long-standing friendship, a connection that made me feel a little more at ease.

 

"Yeah, she texted it to me during dinner," I replied, chuckling in return.

 

"Well… call me, please," she continued, her voice shifting from casual to something more serious yet undeniably inviting. There was a warmth in her tone that caught me off guard. "I'd love to discuss your proposal." Did I really hear that correctly? Did she just express genuine interest in talking about the contract? My heart raced at the thought, the prospect electrifying.

 

In that fleeting moment, I felt a powerful surge of desire to convey just how much she intrigued me. I could almost visualise those soft, inviting lips of hers brushing against mine, the warmth of our kiss igniting something deep within. Yet, amidst that longing, a voice of caution echoed in my mind, reminding me that rushing into anything too quickly could scare her off. I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to find the right balance between my yearning and the need to nurture a genuine connection.

 

"You can kiss me, Chris," she said with a playful smile, her hand resting lightly on my chest, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I gently tilted her chin upward, ensuring our eyes locked in a moment that felt suspended in time. With a soft, steadying breath, I leaned in, my lips hovering tantalizingly close to hers. "I will, but only when you sign that contract, missy," I teased, a playful smile breaking on my lips as I held her gaze, savouring the tension that crackled between us.

 

Y/N  POV

 

You couldn't believe it, but Grace was right about him. As he strolled away towards his car, a warm smile spread across your face, a blend of excitement and disbelief. Everything about him seemed to resonate with you, from the way he carried himself to the charming glint in his eyes that sparked a quiet hope for what might unfold.

 

Just as you were lost in your thoughts, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you back to reality.

 

**Ting Ting**

 

An unknown number flashed on the screen, and with a curious frown, you opened the message. It read: 

 

"Meet me at my office on Monday at 9 a.m. (address included). We will discuss the contract terms then - Master."

 

Y/N 

"Yes, sir, I look forward to it." 

………

 

Sunday morning dawns, and you are jolted awake by an insistent pounding on your door. Groggily rubbing your eyes, you mutter, "Jesus Christ," to yourself as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffle toward the door.

 

Swinging it open, you find Grace standing there, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Oh good, you’re up!" she exclaims, brushing past you into the apartment without a second thought. "So, how did the date turn out with Chris? Isn’t he just delicious?"

 

Sitting down on the couch with a resigned sigh, you can't help but smile at her excitement. "He’s nice," you reply, playing with the hem of your shirt. "But... he’s an absolute mess." You lean back against the cushions, recalling the chaos of the evening you just survived. Grace plops down next to you, eager for the full story.

 

"Look, I know Chan pretty well," she said, settling onto the couch with a decisive thud. "He was a bit nervous earlier, which is unusual for him. You must understand, he’s a very sought-after dom in our community. He doesn't just take on any submissive; he’s quite selective. If he's offering you a contract, trust me, you should seriously consider it."

 

Curiosity piqued, I leaned in and asked, "What makes him so special?"

 

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my question. "Excuse me? He is the perfect dom…. If you're looking for a soft pleasure dom, he's one of the absolute best out there."

 

My mind raced as I processed that. "Wait, he’s a pleasure dom?" It felt like an incredible revelation. Pleasure doms are rare gems in this community, and to hear about one of his calibres was intriguing. It's no wonder he had such high demand—his reputation preceded him.

 

"Absolutely, big time," she affirmed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "He hasn’t had a submissive for over eight months now, which is practically an eternity for him. I’ve never seen him so anxious about meeting someone before. He must really like you—there's no other explanation for his nerves! So, when does he want you to sit down and discuss the details of the contract?"

 

"Tomorrow," you said, turning towards her. Suddenly you feel nervous. What if you can't please him like he wants. 

 

“Shit, he’s moving fast,” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief. She shook her head, her brow furrowing as thoughts raced through her mind. “Look, nobody knows Chan like I do… There’s no way he’d just turn around and ask a girl he met to sign a contract like that.”

 

Her tone shifted, urgency seeping into her words. “So, what should I do, Grace?” you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice.

 

“Listen to me… You need to hear him out, alright?” She leaned in closer, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Do you trust me?”

 

“Yeah,” you replied, your gaze unwavering as you searched her eyes for assurance.

 

“Good girl,” she said, a sultry undertone lacing her words, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips, as if she knew she had you right where she wanted you.

 

………

**Monday**

 

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you took a deep breath, your fingers carefully wrapping a curling wand around a lock of hair. “Why am I so nervous?” you muttered, forcing yourself to focus on your reflection. The soft morning light streamed through the window, highlighting the mix of excitement and anxiety etched across your features.

 

“Okay, Y/N… You’ve done this before,” you reassured yourself, smoothing down the front of your blouse. “Just strike out what you’re not comfortable with.” You ran through your mental checklist, contemplating the plans for the evening, and mentally discarding any doubts that surfaced.

 

Finally, satisfied with your appearance, you grabbed your handbag—a sleek black purse that felt just right in your hand—and headed for the door, taking one last glance back at your apartment. With a quick exhale, you stepped outside into the crisp air, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

 

As you approached the curb, your heart raced a little faster. There, parked majestically in front of your building, was a black Range Rover. Standing beside it was Chris, an easy smile lighting up his face as he spotted you. “Oh good… I was afraid you wouldn't show up,” he chuckled, his warm demeanour instantly easing some of the tension you felt. The sound of his voice made you grin.

 

"So, you actually came to pick me up?" you inquired, your voice laced with curiosity as you approached him.

 

Chris stepped aside with a flourish, swinging open the door of his sleek black car. "After you," he replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted this unexpected gesture. Wasn’t he supposed to have his own driver? The thought lingered as you climbed into the plush leather seat, the scent of fresh upholstery filling your senses.

 

Inside the car, an uncomfortable silence settled between you, heavy with unspoken words. You caught glimpses of the city lights reflecting in the windows, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of the situation. Just as the tension began to feel unbearable, Chris reached over, his hand enveloping yours with a warmth that both surprised and calmed you. He threaded his fingers through yours, creating an unbreakable connection. "You don't have to be a nervous baby girl," he said, his tone both gentle and commanding.

 

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your legs to release the anxious energy coursing through you. "I can't help it," you admitted, feeling the flutter of excitement and anxiety battling within.

 

"Spot that," he said, his voice taking on a stern edge as he fixed his gaze on the road ahead. There was a seriousness in his tone that made your heart race, but a part of you felt comforted, knowing he was there.

 

You sit perfectly still in the passenger seat, fixing your gaze straight ahead, your heart racing as you decide to remain silent for the remainder of the drive to his office. The moment you arrive, the name "JYP Entertainment" slips from your lips, your tone laced with surprise and intrigue.

 

With a playful chuckle, Chris swings open the car door and steps out, the sound of the vehicle’s door closing echoing in the quiet lot.

 

“Here, allow me to help,” he offers, extending his hand toward you with a warm, inviting smile. You can feel a slight flutter in your stomach as he firmly locks his fingers around yours.

 

He leads you through the entrance of the building, its sleek, modern design taking your breath away. "I've booked a meeting room for us," he states, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. You can’t help but notice the briefcase he holds, its professional elegance hinting at the serious nature of the meeting ahead.

 

"This way," he continues, his voice bright with enthusiasm, as he guides you toward the elevator. The polished metal doors slide open, and you step inside, both of you sharing a moment of anticipation as the elevator begins its ascent.

 

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, you stepped inside alongside him, feeling the heat of his presence nearby. His hand trailed along your lower back, a gentle yet possessive gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.

 

The soft hum of the building faded away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble once again. You settled into a chair, the plush fabric contrasting the excitement that swirled in your stomach, while he turned to pour you a cup of water from a sleek glass pitcher on the table.

 

“have some water,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind, echoing authority that sent your heart racing.

 

With a playful glimmer in your eyes, you shot back, “You’re not my dom yet, Chris… I don’t have to listen to you.” Your tone carried a cheeky defiance, a challenge laced with a hint of flirtation.

 

In response, he leaned closer, closing the distance between you until he was mere inches from your face. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “Do you want to repeat that?” The thrill of his proximity made your pulse quicken, mixing a touch of mischief with a growing sense of exhilaration that hung heavily in the air.

 

You take a gentle sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you try to quell the anticipation bubbling within you. He leans closer, his presence both comforting and electrifying. "That's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing a soft, tender kiss just below your ear. The warmth of his lips against your skin sends an involuntary shiver cascading down your body, igniting a thrill that dances through you.

 

"Alright… shall we get started?" he asks, shifting into a more businesslike demeanour as he settles down next to you. With deft movements, he opens his briefcase, revealing a neatly organised array of documents inside.

 

He pulls out two contracts, the crisp paper brimming with promises and stipulations. "Let's begin with the limits," he states, his voice steady as he hands one of the contracts to you. With a flick of his wrist, he opens his copy, revealing a series of terms and agreements laid out before him. "I took the liberty of striking out fire," he says, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

 

You nod appreciatively, feeling a sense of control in the negotiation. "Okay, also animal and age play… those need to go as well," you respond assertively, catching his eye momentarily. There's a moment of understanding between you two—a silent assurance that both of you are on the same page. "And you should add… I will not refer to you as anything other than Chan, Chris, Master, or Sir."

 

He smiles as he acknowledges your added stipulation, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Okay, yeah, that works for me," he replies, his tone lightening with the shift in energy. Then, with a teasing lilt, he leans slightly closer and raises an eyebrow at you, asking without words if you have any further limitations in mind. "Sooooo noooo..." His playful inflection hangs in the air, inviting a deeper exploration of the intricate boundaries you’re both establishing.

 

“No use of the word 'Daddy,'” you say with a slight frown, your eyes narrowing playfully.

 

“Okay, okay, that’s fine with me,” he replies, raising both hands in mock surrender, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 

Curiosity piqued; you lean in closer to examine the document spread out on the table. “What is this down here… am I meant to move in with you?” The words hang in the air, and you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken at the thought.

 

“Uh, well… only if you want to,” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. He reaches for a pen, ready to strike that line out, but you swiftly grab his hand, squeezing it gently to stop him.

 

“How about we start with just weekends, okay? Besides,” you add with a teasing grin, “I have to work during the week.”

 

Chris's expression brightens at your decision. The tension eases, replaced by a shared excitement as he nods, clearly pleased with the compromise.

 

……

 

As the hours ticked by and you delved deeper into the intricacies of the contract, a sense of comfort began to wash over you. Chris had truly anticipated every detail, which was both reassuring and exciting. Eager to break the silence, you turned to him and asked, “How long have you been a master?”

 

A warm smile spread across his face, and he met your gaze with a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I’ve been a master for five years now," he replied, his tone light yet filled with a hint of nostalgia. He looked away for a moment, as if lost in a memory, before continuing, “Before that, I was a sub.”

 

“Oh, really?” you interjected, genuinely intrigued. “What made you decide to make that transition?”

 

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he leaned back slightly, his demeanour becoming more relaxed as he reminisced. “It was my dom… She inspired me in ways I never expected. She was incredibly smart and stunningly beautiful, but she had this fierce temper that kept everyone on their toes,” he admitted, the warmth of his memories evident in his voice.

 

You leaned in a little closer, your heart racing with anticipation. “So, is that what I can expect from you?” you challenged playfully, feeling a flush of excitement as you pressed your legs together tightly. The prospect of uncovering more about Chris and what it meant to be under his guidance stirred a rush within you.

 

"I make it my priority to be fair in all situations," he states, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "But I must warn you upfront—I only provide one chance when it comes to behaviour. If you test the limits, punishment will follow, and trust me, I don't take chatting back lightly." He observes you closely, noticing the hint of mischief in your eyes that suggests a bratty side lurking beneath the surface.

 

"Oh really? Hmmmm... that sounds intriguing. Have you ever successfully tamed a brat before?" you reply, your voice laced with seductive curiosity, a challenge glimmering in your eyes.

 

"I have," he replies, his tone firm yet teasing. "Just remember, even though I have a softer approach as a dominant, I won’t tolerate bad attitudes for long." He continues flicking through the contract, his focus partially on the words, but mostly on you.

 

"I wouldn't dream of testing you, sir," you say, a slight smirk playing on your lips. Chris's expression shifts at your use of "sir," a flicker of interest igniting in his eyes.

 

"I'd love to see your house before I sign the contract," you add, your tone growing more enticing.

 

"Absolutely," he replies, gripping the paper tightly, his curiosity piqued. "Do you have time to check it out right now?" He leans forward, eager to show you more than just the words on the page.

"I actually need to go to work", you smiled. Very convenient timing. 

 

“Perfect, I’ll drop you off,” he said with a tone that caught you off guard. You felt a rush of heat spread through you; after all, you worked at a sex shop, and the last thing you wanted was for him to discover that little secret in such an unexpected manner.

 

With a gentle smile, he led you down the path to the car, his presence both reassuring and slightly intimidating. As he opened the passenger door, you hesitated for just a moment before sliding into the plush seat. The driver, who had been waiting patiently, turned to you expectantly as you recited the address.

 

As you spoke, you glanced over to find Chris looking increasingly astonished. “You mean the sex shop on the corner?” he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

 

A light laugh escaped your lips, barely able to conceal the amusement bubbling within you. “Yeah, is that a problem?” You tried to keep your tone light and playful, enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

 

He shook his head, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, though you noticed the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Nope… not at all,” he replied, though the way he fidgeted with his hands and avoided your gaze gave away his intrigue. You could tell he was trying to play it cool, but it was hard to miss the excitement fluttering beneath the surface.

 

Your workplace is about twenty minutes away, nestled in a bustling part of town. As you pull up outside the shop, Chris undoes his seatbelt with a determined look on his face.

 

"What are you doing?" you exclaim, a wave of panic rising in your chest. The thought of him entering the shop sends your mind racing.

 

"I’m coming in…. I want to look around… and I might pick up some toys for later when I come to get you," he replies, his voice casual but his eyes glinting with mischief.

 

"Don't you dare," you retort, giving him a warning look. His expression shifts, and he shoots you a challenging stare, the kind that reminds you how stubborn he can be. Realising you’ve lost this battle, you slump back into your seat, resigned but still slightly irked.

 

"Let’s go," he says with a playful grin as he steps out of the car, extending his hand toward you.

 

You take a deep breath, roll your eyes, and push the door open, hopping out reluctantly. "Fine," you mutter, but there's a hint of amusement in your voice. As you take his hand, you can’t help but feel a mix of exasperation and affection for his spontaneous nature. Together, you walk toward the entrance of the shop, the bell above the door jingling as you step inside.

 

Chan  POV

 

"Did she really just roll her eyes at me?" I thought, feeling a mix of irritation and intrigue. "Be careful, Channie... she's not yours just yet," I reminded myself as I walked beside her, the anticipation of the moment hanging heavily in the air. Though the urge to discipline her for her blatant disrespect bubbled beneath the surface, I knew I'd have to bide my time.

 

As we approached the store, I reached out and intertwined my fingers with hers, the warmth of her hand sending a jolt through me. She paused momentarily, her surprise flickering in her eyes, before she confidently led me inside. "Good morning, Noah," she greeted cheerfully as we entered, her voice brightening the room. I cast a glance toward Noah, who stood behind the counter—a striking young man with long, flowing blond hair that framed his chiseled features, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to capture the attention of everyone around him.

 

"Morning, Y/N... Who's this?" he asked, extending his hand toward me with a mixture of curiosity and charm.

 

I grasped his hand firmly, my grip slightly stronger than normal, as if to assert my presence. "This is my friend Chris," she said, her smile a beacon of warmth as she looked up at me, the friendly tone in her voice stinging a little. Just a friend? A surge of possessiveness surged within me; I yearned to show her just what kind of "friend" I could be.

 

Y/N then walked behind the counter, placing her bag with a practiced ease that suggested familiarity, while I observed her every move. There was an effortless grace to the way she navigated her surroundings. Once she returned to my side, a playful smirk danced on her lips. "Okay, you can leave now," she playfully dismissed me.

 

Taking the moment, I gently lifted her chin with my index finger, a gesture that was both tender and commanding. Drawn in by the magnetism that crackled between us, I leaned closer and pressed my lips against hers. The softness of her plump lips sent a rush of warmth through me, and I couldn't help but smile as I pulled back, feeling victorious.

 

I turned to Noah, whose expression of shock illuminated the space between us—clearly, he hadn’t seen that coming. With a sense of satisfaction swelling within me, I stepped out of the store and headed back to the car, a grin plastered on my face. "That'll show him... she's all mine," I muttered under my breath as I settled into the driver's seat. Opening my phone, I glanced at the time and said, "Okay, can we go back to the company?" My mind was already racing ahead, planning the next moves in this intricate game.

A:n thank you again to all that have read my rewrite for master

Taglist: @daceydeath @bakedlilgoonie @armystay89 @krishastumblernow @cakeracha

[asterkatt]

ISAT ACT 5 SPOILERS!!

okay I said I was going to give more thoughts on act 5 of ISAT and then uh. I didn't. oopsies. but we're here now!!

I loved Odile's friendquest in this act SO much. one of my favorite things about the way the game handled Siffrin's actions throughout the entirety of act 5 in general is that everyone's reactions to him were so DIFFERENT. but not only were they different, they had reasons for being different. it wasn't just "Siffrin says something messed up, hurts someone's feelings, pushes it down, rinse and repeat". each "breakdown" was specifically tailored to be character specific. to fit in with how they've behaved in the story thus far, as well as how Siffrin feels about them/tends to respond to them in particular. with Mirabelle, it really was entirely accidental. Siffrin didn't even realize how their wording might come across in the moment. It wasn't him lashing out in any way - just him genuinely trying to cut corners. Odile?? Odile's was very different. it's easy to see that there's a lot of tension between Siffrin and Odile - more tension than there is with anyone else. Odile has been a thorn in Sif's side - constantly observing and watching and theorizing about why they're behaving strangely. I did the sus quest. Sif knows that she has the ability to figure it out. Consequently, they have to be way more aware of her than anyone else. (side note that's not entirely relevant to this but I want to bring it up - the fact Siffrin believes that her constant eye on him is because "she doesn't trust you" makes me sick. because that's not it at all. they might pretend it is. hell, she might act like it is. but it's not and she knows that. she knows it's because she's worried because she cares and Siffrin can't understand that.) so I feel like they took the "mistake" of messing up with Odile harder than they took any of the other interactions. because how could they be so stupid. how could they forget. how could he forget that she always figures it out.

so of course he lashes out. not only are they being faced with the same blinding mistake they've made over and over and over again, it's also a reminder that she doesn't trust him. (and why should she?).

and then she goes and makes it all worse by calling him a "friend". because they know that's not how she sees them. he believes that she doesn't trust him. so it must seem like she's directly lying to his face - and she thinks they're too dense to see through it.

I love that Odile doesn't back down. she doesn't shy away when they start yelling at her. she doesn't let it slide just because she made them upset (Isa and Mira both probably would - though Isa would try and get them to talk about it later). she pushes, because that's the only way she's going to get any answers.

the way you can feel her anger when Siffrin hits her where it hurts the most (without even seeing her face) is just AUHGSKJDHFKJSH. the writing of this game. the details. never cease to amaze me. I love the way she snaps back. she doesn't get angry, she doesn't yell - and yet somehow it hurts just as badly.

I also love the way Siffrin reflects on it - the way they acknowledge that "she was only worried about you!!!" because deep down he knows that their friends do actually care about him. the way Odile handles the situation afterwards as well - at the clocktower?????? I love that you can tell she's trying so hard to make the "right" choice to not endanger them when it's not what she wants. she doesn't want to leave Siffrin behind. If they weren't going to take on the King the next day, I guarantee you she'd be using anything in her power to figure out what was going on with him. I don't have the exact quote rn but at the end of the sus questline she mentions that she can't let something go when she finds it odd - and this is BEYOND odd. but she has to put the safety of the whole group and their mission first, and I love seeing that side of her.

[ayukas]

synopsis when lee haechan was fourteen, he thought he'd found forever in the fleeting moments of a summer spent with you. but forever isn’t promised, and he can't seem to let go.

genre angst, summer love au, coming of age word count 1.4k

notes ayukas stop writing for hyuck challenge FAILED... this has been in my drafts for a month loll lightly inspired by this tiktok! i really hope ull enjoy, let me know any and all of ur thoughts but pls remember to be kind!!! :') thanku for reading :D

HAECHAN REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.

the way the cicadas hummed in the july heat. the way your laughter would ring across the narrow streets of your hometown. the way your hand fit so naturally into his, as if it belonged there.

at fourteen, haechan felt limitless, as if happiness could be held in his hands forever.

but forever was never promised, and neither were you.

FOURTEEN

haechan met you on the first day of summer, in a town too small for secrets. he was the boy who never ran out of things to say, and you were the one who never got tired of listening.

"you're not from here, are you?" he asked that day, his eyes squinting against the sunlight, his honey skin glistening under the glow.

you shook your head. "just here for a while."

just here for a while. he had no idea those four words would permanently brand themselves onto his heart, a warning he should have heeded. but at fourteen, time seemed endless. summers stretched like golden highways, and saying goodbye was just a story older kids told.

you spent that summer together, consumed in the golden hours of childhood—stealing his older brother's popsicles from the fridge (sorry johnny), challenging each other to jump into the deep end of the river, and whispering about the future under a star-filled sky.

one evening, when the sun had set and the air smelled of dirt and fading warmth, you turned to him and said, "i think this is the happiest i've ever been."

haechan could only stare at you, sucking in a deep breath as a strange ache filled his chest. he didn't know why, but he wanted you to know that he felt the same—that every moment with you felt as if it should last forever.

but forever was always an unsteady promise.

the night before you left, the two of you sat by the river, your feet dipped into the water and the stars spread above you like spilled sugar.

"i'll write to you," you said.

he nodded, but he didn't believe it. he was reminded of the movies, where people always said things like that. they meant it in the moment, but moments didn't last forever.

the day you left, he ran after your dad's car, breathless and desperate, as if his pure determination could keep you from leaving. but wheels don't stop for fourteen year olds with broken hearts.

you waved at him through the window, but all haechan saw was the distance growing, stretching, and widening.

and just like that, you were gone.

FIFTEEN

the first letter arrived a week later.

it smelled like the pages of an old book, as if you'd spent hours hunched over it, your handwriting imprinted deep into the paper. you told him about your city, how it seemed too vast, too loud. you missed the cicadas, you wrote. you missed him.

he wrote back that night. told you about how nothing had changed here, except the fact that you were no longer here with him.

the letters continued, fluttering in and out of his hands. he read them at night, tracing the loops in your handwriting and imagining your voice in the ink.

but over time, the letters became fewer. shorter. until, eventually, they stopped altogether.

one night, he sat on his bed with one of your last letters pressed against his chest, trying to convince himself that perhaps you had just forgotten to write the next one. perhaps it was lost in the mail. you wouldn't just forget about him, would you?

but silence has a way of answering questions that no one dares to ask.

SIXTEEN

the bench where you used to sit was still there, but haechan never sat on it anymore. the convenience store where you spent too much money on slushies still sold your favourite flavour, but he never bought them anymore.

somewhere along the way, he realised he was keeping spaces open for you, in case you return.

but you never did.

he walked past the river one evening and noticed a couple laughing together, their fingers entwined and their faces glowing in the warm twilight. he quickly turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets, his chest tight with something he refused to name.

SEVENTEEN

haechan found himself talking to you, even though you weren't there.

"you'd love this song," he'd mumble, pulling his earphones off.

"you'd call me an idiot for doing this," he'd say, laughing to himself after stealing his brother's favourite leather jacket.

he wondered if, wherever you were, you ever talked to him too.

there were days when he thought he was moving on. and then there were days when he walked past his reflection and saw a fourteen year old boy staring back at him, waiting for someone who wouldn't return.

EIGHTEEN

haechan stopped looking for you in crowded places. stopped hoping that every unfamiliar face might be yours. but the ache in his chest just kept persisting.

it sunk deep into his bones, quiet and constant.

there was a girl who liked him. she laughed at all his jokes and reached for his hands when she thought he wasn't looking. he even let her kiss him once, under the soft glow of a streetlamp.

but when he closed his eyes, all he saw was you.

NINETEEN

haechan's brother often told him first loves never last. that they're just a spark, not a flame.

but what if he never let go of the match?

he didn't say it out loud, but the thought ran through his mind, endless and unrelenting.

on his birthday, he sat on his bed, staring at his phone with your facebook profile on it, half-expecting a message from you. he didn't know why he still hoped. perhaps, because he didn't know how to stop.

TWENTY

you return.

news spreads fast in a small town, but haechan doesn't believe it until he sees you standing there, right in front of him.

you look different, older. your hair is styled in a way he isn't used to. your voice had matured in ways it hadn't before. you're not the same fourteen year old who once held his hand so tightly.

but when you smile at him, even for just a moment, he forgets that you ever left him in the first place.

"hyuck..." you murmur, gasping, like you've seen a ghost. "it's been so long. i can't believe we haven't seen each other since we were fourteen..."

he blinks. his throat tightens. his heart stutters.

and then, almost inaudibly, he says,

"what do you mean? i've been stuck at fourteen."

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN A DREAM AND A MEMORY

haechan finds himself standing in a room that feels like a memory. his old bedroom, but not quite—there's something surreal about it, as though it exists somewhere between reality and a dream. the michael jackson posters on the wall, the messy desk, the slightly broken lamp that flickers every now and then—it's all there, the way it was when he was fourteen.

and sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs swinging idly, is a boy.

a boy with rounder cheeks, brighter eyes and an innocence haechan barely remembers having. a version of himself he hasn't seen in years.

"you're me," haechan says, his voice quiet, almost in disbelief as he stares at the younger boy.

the younger version of him grins, tilting his head slightly. "of course i am."

"why am i here?" haechan asks, his voice wavering slightly. it's not the question he wants to ask, but it's the only one that makes sense right now.

"you never left," his fourteen year old self replies calmly, studying him closely. "you don't want to."

haechan's chest tightens, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. the ache in his heart grows the longer he's in here, pressing against him from all directions. he wants to leave this place. he needs to leave. he needs to move on.

to move on as easily as you did, to forget everything and walk away without looking back. that's what haechan wishes he could do. but instead, he stands frozen in place, staring at his fourteen year old self, a sense of suffocation building in his chest.

and so, with a heaviness that fills the space between them, he finally cracks, his voice barely above a whisper, "help me."

"i've been stuck at fourteen. i don't know how to let go."

[nymphaea-blue]

Oneshot - Rafayel taking care of you.

Info : 1800+ word count, fluff, reader and Rafayel in a relationship, mentions sickness (fever, dry/scratchy throat, loss of appetite, weakness) + wounds, maybe hurt/comfort, small spoiler to Rafayels lore.

Notes : This is for everyone that is sick right now, like me.. ^^, I am planning to write something for his birthday, but we will see if I will feel good enough. Good luck with your pulls if you are going for his birthday memory as well! <3

It was a horrible day for you, to say the least.

You woke up with a dry throat, you took a sip of water in hopes that it would soothe the scratchiness but it didn’t work - and that was how you knew you were sick. Despite your sickness, you still came to work, you couldn’t just call out an hour before you were supposed to start your mission.

The entire day, you felt miserable, your throat was all dry and scratchy which soon also resulted in coughing and your head started to hurt, because of course a fever was also something you needed. Some of your teammates quickly understood that you were sick and tried to get you to go back home but you refused each time, even your mission partner, Xavier, couldn’t get it through to you that you needed rest. In your eyes, if you already made the effort to get up from bed, you might as well stick around long enough to finish it.

Because of your sickness, missions weren’t as easy to manage as usual and you ended up with a few small wounds, but because of your sickness you felt more weak and sensitive so they still hurt you quite a lot. But even despite the pain, at the end of your work day you showed up to the base to handle all file documents from the missions you did that day to Jenna, even though she saw how terrible you looked and asked you to stay at home until you felt better.

After all your work was done, you went back home and quickly plopped onto your bed, not even bothering to eat something or change clothes, you didn’t have an appetite in the moment anyways. Sure enough, after a few moments you fell asleep, all the stress of the day finally getting to you. It felt nice to relax even for a moment, your body needed that so you allowed yourself to take a quick nap. 

That “quick nap” of yours wasn’t quick at all, in fact, by the time you woke up, it was the next morning already. Still sleepy and very weak from your sickness, which wasn’t getting better, you could hear some sort of sound somewhere in your apartment, but you guessed that it was just something going on in the corridor so you went back to sleep. Despite all those hours, you still felt quite tired and you honestly didn’t have energy for anything else but sleeping.

“Cutie.. cutie!”

“Hey, wake up!”

You could feel someone shaking your shoulder, which slowly awakened you from your slumber. As you opened your eyes a little, the sun was shining a bit too much for your liking at that moment, you saw… Rafayel? 

“Finally! I thought you would never wake up, you know! Don’t scare me like that again.” He said dramatically before he sighed, relieved to see you awake and alive.

“Rafayel..? What are you doing here? What time is it?” You questioned as you rubbed your eyes a little to try and get more awake but it was almost futile. You felt so confused, perhaps sleeping for such a long time wasn’t a great idea but you needed it, and honestly, a few more hours would be even better.

“I decided to check on you after you didn’t even read my messages from yesterday and didn’t pick up my calls, I was getting worried. And it’s 4pm by the way, which makes me wonder why you are still in bed.” Rafayel responded in a slightly worried and perhaps a bit scolding tone, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bad, you made him worry so much.

“I’m so sorry Rafayel…I just felt horrible lately, I didn’t even hear your calls.” You responded with an apologetic tone, before you tried to search for your phone to see how many messages you missed. 

You quickly realised it wasn’t on the bed with you and it wasn’t on the bedside table, so you probably left it in your work bag which was in the living room. Now the strange noise you heard a few hours ago made sense and you almost facepalmed yourself at how stupid you were, but that quickly erupted into a cough.

“Oh yeahh that doesn’t sound too good… are you okay? How do you feel? Should I take you to the hospital?” 

“N-no, no need for that.. It’s just a cold probably Rafayel, I’ll be fine-”

You were about to say more but your words got cut off as Rafayel suddenly place his hand on your forehead and his face was close to yours, you could see the worry and perhaps even fear in those pinkish blue eyes of his. The way his eyebrows furrowed, his lips were slightly downturned and there was a slight gloss in his eyes as he looked over your face, to see how you were.

“You are not fine. I don’t think your forehead should be this hot, and all those wounds on your body… Why didn’t you call me? I would be here to help however I can.” He asked as he took his hand away from your forehead but placed it on your cheek instead, you could feel the love and worry in his touch as he touched you so gently as if you would break yet also firm enough as if he feared that if he would let go - you wouldn’t be there anymore.

“I felt very tired, I didn’t think straight… I went to work yesterday, I thought I would be able to handle it but I couldn’t and at the end of the day I practically passed out in bed. Besides, I thought you would be busy, so I didn’t want to worry you.” You said as you leaned further into his hand a little, you felt shame in not calling him, you knew he would come if you only even thought of asking him for help.

“Oh cutie, you don’t need to worry about bothering me. Nothing is more important than you, you know that.” He responded, now with a soft smile as he suddenly took you into his arms in a princess carry.

“Huh? Where are we going? I’m still in my work clothes!”

“Back to my place, you didn’t think I would just let you suffer alone, did you? And don’t worry about your clothes, I have some of yours in my closet from the last time you came over.”

After a short ride in his sports car, you arrived at his home. Rafayel, being the gentleman he is, carried you upstairs to his bedroom as soon as he unlocked the door and placed you down on it gently before he tucked you in.

“There, all nice and comfy. Now, what do you need?”

“Hmm.. some water would be nice, or hot tea, for my throat.”

“You got it!”

It only took a few minutes before Rafayel eventually arrived with some of your favourite tea, all properly prepared and even cooled down a bit so you would be able to drink it without burning yourself.

“Ah, that feels much better, thank you!” You said after you took a sip of the tea, your throat finally got some much needed relief from the dryness, even if only temporary.

“I’m just glad I could help. What else do you need? Maybe I should call a doctor, just in case, you still look very weak.”

“No no, don’t worry about it. I’m okay for now.”

“Are you sure? Did you eat something?”

“...”

“I knew that. Wait here for a moment, Chef Rafayel will make something great for you!”

Soon enough, he returned again, with a few dishes. The meal consisted of seafood, some kind of spicy pasta, sandwiches and a variety of chocolates and other sweets alongside a soda. It looked like he put together a bunch of ingredients from his fridge together, which was adorable in a way, but also you couldn’t have most of them currently. In the end you only picked the sandwich.

“What’s wrong? Are you not hungry? You need to eat to get better from what I heard.” Rafayel questioned as he saw that you didn’t eat much, rather you stuck to the sandwiches and took a few bites of the sweets he got for you.

“It’s not that, it’s just… I can’t have most of these, it won’t be good for my stomach right now.”

“Huh? Really?”

You felt slightly confused by his demeanor, did he not know that? He seemed quite surprised at the news, he thought that he just got you your favourite food and you would be okay.

“Yeah, spicy food can worsen my issues and upset my stomach since I haven't eaten anything in a while. Chocolate is okay but I shouldn’t drink soda since it can be bad for my stomach and seafood is, well, cold, which wouldn’t be good for my throat.” You explained patiently to him.

“Ohh.. it makes sense. I’m sorry, I guess we will stick you to plain food for now huh?”

“Mhm, that would be best. You didn’t know about this?” You asked him finally, you weren’t trying to be mean but you were just curious.

“No, not really. You see, Lemurians rarely get sick,and if we do, then we have ways to get rid of it but I guessed that it would be different than it is for humans.”

And that was when it hit you - his fearful and worried demeanor, the confusion and weird insistence of getting medical help for a cold and the odd food he gave you, it was all because he was Lemurian and was never sick before but he still tried to care for you anyways.

“That’s okay, thanks for helping me anyways. I’ll guide you on what you should do, how about that?” You proposed with a smile, it felt nice that you had such a caring boyfriend who was willing to help you even if he had no idea what to do.

For the next few days, you guided Rafayel and he did a splendid job of taking care of you after a few instructions. Those days, though still slightly uncomfortable because of your sickness, were very wholesome and relaxing, as they were spent with the person who loved you so much he learned about human medicine just for you. He took his role as your personal nurse very seriously and in the end, you slowly got better, thanks to his help. Ever since then, you promised both yourself and him, that you would always let him know if you ever get sick again. 

[nightshade962]

I apologize if this is a ramble and not much punctuation it is late I am tired but I want to say this and I cannot write worth a s***

What if there was a fic where Jazz saves Danny from vivasection like she came back from college and was visiting and because she is in so much stress the and because of living in that Ecto contaminated house for so long she manifests a bit of powers and one of them is that she can open portals within their own Realm to different places and she was so stressed and desperate to get her little brother away from what hurt him that her power is manifested and they took him to Gotham dropping right in front of Ivy and Harley Jazz obviously doesn't know where she is she's freaking out her little brother is dying in her arms

IVy and Harley are just kind of freaking out because this teenage girl covered in blood dropped in front of them holding a boy equally if not more so covered in blood but he's like bleeding from his nose and his mouth the same time and they can clearly see he's bleeding through his shirt they're trying to keep a cool head we're trying to get the girl to let them come closer so they can help her brother cuz they clearly had come from a horrible situation and maybe it's at the point where like Harley is kind of close to Batman's family and Batman and it's kind of like Aunt Harley to the bat kids so she gets like on the phone and it's trying to contact with them like hey we have a situation here we could use some discreet medical attention cuz at this point jazz is yelling like no hospitals he can't go to a hospital after Ivy said that they should take him to one

Batman / Bruce Wayne you can decide what Persona they're going to use for this get Harley and Ivy custody of these two kids because obviously they're not in the safe living environment and they refuse to go to their Godfather saying that he's like creepy in that and they just don't trust him especially with some of the things he said( I kind of want Vlad to be like really creepy to Danny if you know what I mean like really creepy creepier the better) Harley and Ivy end up raising Danny even though jazz is at basically an adult they still take her in as like one of their kids because that is Danny's sister even if she's older like an adult age

No this is just a thought feel free to add in like I said I am tired it is late but I had to write this down so sorry if it's rambly and it runs together I didn't have the energy to use proper punctuation feel free to add if you wish I do see it morning being like a Tim / Danny coupling and if you want to like couple Jazz with someone else singing like dick or Barbara or making them in like a Triad and I'll probably be posting more lately fake ideas for different fandoms right now I'm in a real kick of dcxdp so probably going to be a few of those I've said before I can't write at least I can't write fanfiction it does not flow well with me and if any of my writing point on this website points to that then you would understand

[mrswrightreal]

DID I SEE U ASK FOR EJ REQUESTS? heh.. ej x bratty/feral reader where he bends reader over his work desk and FREAKS THE HEELLLLL

- beloved masky anon 💖

yayayay ej is my long lost love hehe also i have been in the hospital LOL sorry im trying to get what i can out, a semi truck took the entire front off my car and the one thing i requested my sister to bring was my laptop so i can write for yall so hip hip hoooray! so im sorry dis is a bit short

eyless jack x brat!reader

warnings: explicit content sexually, nsfw, p in v, unprotected sex (hes a demon so idk), vaginal fingering, brat taming, spanking/hitting?, drooling, creampie, lazy, petnames, rough sex

folded.

you were nestled into jack's lap, arms wrapped around his neck and knees propped at his sides. he was trying to get a few things of work done, but you insisted on sticking to him, pawing and pleading to get your way. he finally gave in, letting you crawl into him. one condition though, you were not allowed to move your hips.

and just like a child, you go for what you were said no to. occasionally, you would grind your hips against his, feeling his half hardened cock bump against your clit. his hands would bruise into your waist, giving you a formal warning before you claimed 'i was just getting comfortable'

but the more and more restless you became, the more and more brutal his grip tightened. one hand rested in the dip above your hipbone, while the other scribbled against whatever paper work he was getting done. you rested your face into the side of his neck, licking and sucking slightly before he shoved you away.

you whined and clawed at him, backing up and constantly trying to pull his attention to you. once he was fed up, he set his pen down and lifted you with ease, dropping you to the ground.

"wanna act like a greedy pet, you'll be treated like one" he scowled, scooting his chair in just so his stomach was flush with the desk. this left you no room to protest his antics.

you were left pouting on the floor, bottom lip flipping outwards and pathetic pleas falling to deaf ears. you finally stood up, looming over his shoulders to try and get a peak at what he was doing, but he always waved you away. so when you got tired, you walked away, ignoring him for the rest of the night.

he never moved, not even once, late hours into the night and he was still perched over that desk like a vulture and fresh meat. it made your jaw clench and teeth grind, what was so much more important than his girl? certainly no paper, that was.

so you got into one of your most revealing outfits, and patted around the house, doing random cleaning or cooking tasks that were never fulfilled throughout the day. then when you made it to jack's office, you purposely bent over a little farther than normal when picking up a loose piece of paper, or got your plump tits a little to close to his face while dusting a shelf above his desk.

he couldnt hold back, fingers digging into the plastic of his pen and stomach growling. "cut it out" he breathed, snapping his neck in your direction.

"hm, cut what out? im just cleaning?" you inquired innocently, leaning back upright and looking down at him. he eyed you like prey, the way your perky nipples stuck out of the fabric of your tank top, and bottom part of you ass flooding through your shorts so perfectly.

"you know damn well what youre doing, i know youre smarter than that" he mumbled, trying to turn his head back to his work and shake off that feeling of your doe like eyes burning into his faux skin.

"im not doing anything, jacky" you cooed, walking closer and rubbing soft circles into his tense shoulder. "youre overreacting, just work" you said, pressing a warm kiss to the side of his neck, right behind his ear.

and he did just that. finally succeeding at ignoring you. which ticked you off in all the wrong and right places. how could he never pay any attention to you? always sucked into whatever he was doing at the moment, it drove you absolutely wild.

so you reverted to being straightforward, climbing over the chair and settling back in his lap. but this time, you towered over him, hungry eyes looming into his gooping sockets. he sighed and slammed his pen down against the wood of his desk, leading his hands to rest at the curve of your ass.

"what do you want? havent i made it plenty clear that i-" you cut him off with a hand shoved to his lips.

"and havent i made it clear that i want- no- need you now?" you whined, grinding down onto his lap even harder than before. the friction against your core leaving you shivering.

his lips pulled back, his razor sharp teeth digging into the flesh of your palm. you yelped, bringing your hand back and shaking it free of the pain. this allowed him to reach up and grab at both of your wrists, holding them in place.

"fucking impatient little thing, arent you?" he growled, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair, "cant wait for me?" he asked, a pathetic scoff leaving his tongue.

you could feel the way you grew excited from his sharp tone, pupils blowing wide and head leaning down to kiss him. but he only shoved you away, watching the way your face dropped. you squirmed in spot, whining and pleading for him to let you go and make him feel good, but he had other plans for you tonight.

"well, i suppose the work can wait, since someone needs me so bad" he sighed, and in a swift move, he had you flipped around, back arched and tits smashed against his desk.

he had a perfect view of the way your ass fell from the hem of your shorts, barely covering your slick cunt. he sat back in his chair, making sure to reach far enough and hold your hands behind your back with his singular one.

"jack- please" you begged, drooling over the reports he had just finished filing.

he lifted his hand and cracked it down on your ass cheek, making you jump and whimper. "ill take my time with you, isnt that what you want? my undivided attention, pet? well now you have it, and youre gonna take it" he warned, running a claw under your shorts and pulling them to the side.

the cool air of his office hit your leaking pussy quickly, hips swaying and trying to push closer to jacks fingers. that only led to another slap against your now bare ass, your cries giving him the satisfaction he needed to continue. he retracted his claw, swiping his finger slowly through your juices and circling around your puffy clit.

"hmmph! fuck jack- want more" you begged, hips bucking and twitching against his desk and tears brimming at your eyes.

"hmm? someones ungrateful" he scoffed again, plunging his finger in with no warning. he watched the way your cunt sucked at his finger, barely giving him room to pump in and out you, "fuck, shes so wet and greedy" he chuckled lowly, adding in another finger and shoving it into your hole.

"yes! right there-" you moaned, nerves prickling up at the way his fingers curled inside of you.

he felt the way your cunt squeezed his digits, leaving you to gush and pour slick right into his palm. he abruptly tore his fingers from you, lifting them to his freakishly long tongue and licking them clean.

"she even tastes greedy today" he hummed, pulling a claw out and tearing a streak through your shorts and letting them fall to the groun.

"hey! those were-" you cried out, trying to sit up but his hand pushed the center of your back down with a slam.

"shut up, ill buy you new ones" jack muttered, using one hand to pull down his sweats and boxers.

his cock was hard and heavy, weighing itself down and prodding at the plush of your asscheek. he gripped his length, cursing as he gave himself a few pitiful pumps before sliding it through your sticky folds. he made sure to rut against your warm cunt, circling his tip around your clit, getting him ready to push through your walls.

" just fuck me already!" you croaked out, pushing back against him and bracing your hands against the edge of his desk.

he stopped every motion, allowing you to wiggle against his aching cock as much as youd like. "since when have i ever let you tell me what to do?" he sneered, claws lightly dragging down your back, "yknow, brats dont usually get their way, and im starting to see a pattern within you" he explained lowly, sliding his hands under your shirt and gripping at your tits.

"please- i cant- cant wait anymore!" you pleaded, craning your neck over your shoulder to get a good look at his looming figure.

the size difference between you two was quite literally unfathomable. he was tall and lean, like, inhumane. well of course, he was a kidney eating demonic figure, so of course it was strange. but it gave you all kinds of perks, he was always the big spoon, always had to do tasks that were too high for you, and his dick was larger than any of your holes to take.

he grew tired of your pathetic whines and moans a long time ago, so he fell through with his plans and decided to line himself up with your sopping hole. he saw the way your face lit up with excitement, you have been waiting all night for this singular moment, and you would finally have it.

he cupped your tits harshly, before slamming into without warning. and he never let up, pulling completely out and pushing back into you with ease. your cunt sucked him completely dry, his tip pushing past your cervix and definitely leaving it to bruise later. the shaking of his desk was loud, a few pens and pencils flying off, but he didnt care, he was doing this for his benefit, and to get you to shut up.

"wait- ah- jack -- that that - it hurts!" you sputtered out, tears spilling down your face and onto his papers as he fucked you into oblivion.

he didnt respond, only looked down at his shining cock, the way it pushed in and out of you with the lewd slapping of skin on skin. he was so fixated on the way your cunt begged and cried for him, and not the way you did.

"this finally gonna get you to stop whining for me? cant take it when you asked for it?" he asked boredly, sliding his hands down to grip your hips, talons digging into your flesh.

you couldnt speak, the lump in your throat growing as you sobbed out, hands flailing to keep yourself at bay while your body jerked around. you felt your gut twist, the way he plummeted into your body making you drool and twitch. you squeezed him extra hard, signaling that you were so close.

he could see it in the way your eyes rolled back and back arched. your fingers braced against the desk, trying to stop yourself from shaking too much. but he fucked you too hard, too rough, too good. he could tell that you were close to your release, so he continued his pace, leaning over and biting into the muscle of your shoulder.

you yelped, cunt fluttering around his abusive strokes as you came around him. but that was no reason for him to stop, he hadnt reached his own high. but the way your hole spasmed around him, oh he was growing near. his grip was piercing, holding your squirming form as he continued to pound into your overstimulated cunt.

"fuck- coming - gonna fill you nice and full-" he muttered, hips faltering and seed spilling through your womb.

he pushed all the way inside, letting his cum spill out of your hole and around him. your legs were shaking, mind blank and drool falling down your cheeks. he picked you up by your hair, and sat down in his chair. he left himself inside of your gushing cunt, scooting his chair in and reaching around your slumped body.

"you can wait till im finished with these to get up" he whispered, kissing your cheek and allowing you to fall asleep against him, your swollen pussy still leaking his fluids down his cock.

it took him a while into the early morning hours to finish, before lifting you off in one swift motion and carrying you to bed. he didnt mind the mess he made of you, he would just be the one to clean it in the morning. and probably make it again while trying to clean it.

but after that night, you made sure to wait your turn, and that got you a better result that prior ones.

[avastrasposts]

The Exiled Heart - Chapter 2

Plot: Crashing his Razor Crest on a remote planet, Din is seriously injured and unconscious when he's found by a local woman. This story explores a few months of Din's life before he meets Grogu and started on the path we know.

Din Djarin x Female reader

Author Note & Warnings: Explicit - smut, fluff, angst, serious injury, blood, poor Din has an existential crisis...

This is set pre-Grogu and before season 1 of The Mandalorian and explores a few months of Din's life. The first chapters contain blood and descriptions of serious injuries.

The latter chapters will be filled with angst. I don't want to spoil the story by listing too many warnings, but if you don't know me, I write tooth aching fluff and smut and then I throw heart breaking angst into the mix and that's exactly what I've done here.

Please enjoy! *evil laugh*

The afternoon passed as the morning had, you checked in on the man at one point and found him sleeping, the broken helmet next to him on the bed. He slept through the night, Gearz standing watch outside the bedroom door again, while you slept a second night on the couch. The next morning Gearz woke you with his soft beep. 

“He is awake,” the droid said as you got up. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you went to the bedroom and gently tapped on the door before pushing it open. The man was standing up, examining the wound on his abdomen, but again, his eyes flew to you as entered the room, but quickly flicked down to the container holding his armor. 

“Where am I?” he demanded. The tone of his voice much more commanding this morning, the unsteady uncertainty of the past two days gone and replaced by a dark baritone that matched the height and width of him now that you saw him standing up for the first time. 

“Shinu,” you replied, “Just outside the Ryloth system, we’re about as far out as you can get.” 

“Where are my clothes?” came the next question. 

“I had to cut away your flight suit and undershirt, but I have a couple of spare shirts I can give you,” you replied and went to the cupboard by the door. It held all your clothes, and some of your father’s old ones. Taking out one of his shirts, you handed it to the man. He pulled it over his head, still not meeting your eyes, and grunted as the movement pulled at the stitching in his side. 

“My ship, my weapons,” he said, and again, there was no question mark, just a statement but you guessed what he meant. 

“The ship is a few hundred meters away, in the forest. The droid couldn’t find your weapons,” you lied, hoping he didn’t catch it. 

“Take me to it.” 

“Take you to it? You’ve just woken up after sustaining multiple serious injuries, you’re not fit to go anywhere,” you protested as he tried to bend over to pick up one of the vambraces. He groaned and stumbled at the effort, and you rushed forward to catch him before he fell. Both your arms went around his middle, holding him up as he suddenly leaned heavily on you, gasping out a sharp breath. 

“Stupid, stubborn man,” you grumbled, “You’re the worst patient I’ve ever had, never seen anyone so kriffing eager to undo my work.” 

The man groaned as you helped him lie back down and you lifted the shirt to check the stitching. No blood was coming out at least, so hopefully he hadn’t ripped it again, but the effort of trying to bend down had left him pale and sweating and he didn’t protest again. 

“Now, please, for the hundredth time, stay still and heal!” you told him, too exasperated with his stubborn attitude to worry about angering him. 

Fussing around him, you put a pillow behind his back and helped him sit up a little bit, it would do his circulation good, and refilled his glass with water. 

“Drink,” you ordered, holding it out to him. He did as told without a word, glancing up at you before he downed the whole glass while you watched. 

“You lost a lot of blood, you’ve got a head trauma and I removed a great big chunk of metal from your belly,” you said, sitting down at the foot of the bed, “You seem to be mending, and there are no signs of infection, but it’ll take a few more days before you’re strong enough to leave. But you’re not leaving on that ship anytime soon, so I can take you into Duebert, that’s the nearest town. From there you can get a transport to Mosa, that’s the trade port.” 

“I need to repair my ship, and the helmet,” he said, his gaze moving to the broken helmet that lay next to him on the bed. 

“No one in Duebert can do that I’m afraid, we don’t really do much space travel, but there are repair shops in Mosa.” 

He didn’t reply to that, and he kept looking at his helmet as he picked it up, staring at the broken visor. 

You sat in silence for a while as the man seemed lost in thought. 

“The helmet, it’s very important to you,” you said quietly, and he gave a small nod. 

“My…I…I haven’t been without it since I was a boy. We…” 

He trailed off, glancing up at you, and there was a sense of fear in his eyes again, agony barely hidden in the way he grimaced as a slew of painful emotions seemed to flash across his face. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked finally and you raised your eyebrows in question. 

“Taking care of your wounds? 

He nodded in reply and you shrugged, “Why not? You’re injured, my father taught me healing, trained me to be a medic, it’s what we do.” 

“You don’t know me.” 

You gave him a look, studying his expression, and he bowed his head, looking away again. 

“Wouldn’t you help someone who was injured even though you didn’t know them?” you asked and he seemed to think about it for a few moments before he nodded, still not looking at you. 

“I would, but you are too trusting.” 

“You were unconscious,” you pointed out, “and would’ve died if I hadn’t helped you.” 

He didn’t seem to have a response to that, but he looked up at you again. 

“Thank you,” he said, “And I’m sorry about that.” 

He pointed to your arm where the welts left by his fingers were visible. “My helmet, the armor, it’s…part of who I am and losing it…I don’t know what to do without it.”

“I’m sorry your helmet is broken, can you fix it?” you asked, looking at it as he turned it over in his hands. 

“Not like it’s meant to be mended, that needs a forge. But maybe I can repair it enough before I leave.” 

“Can I ask you something else?” you said, looking up at him again, but he kept his eyes on the helmet. You’d noticed that since yesterday, he seemed to keep his eyes on the armor or the helmet most of the time, rarely meeting your eyes again. 

He gave a short nod as he tried to bend the crooked panel into place but it didn’t budge. 

“You said you haven’t been without the helmet since you were a boy…do you mean you wear it all the time?” 

He looked up at you at that, his dark eyes meeting yours for a moment. It occurred to you that every emotion he felt seemed to flash across his face before he spoke. Now he seemed to hesitate, his mouth opening and closing before he looked down at the helmet again. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you backtracked at his silence, “It’s only…it would explain why it was the first thing you asked about when you woke up, why you were panicking and-” 

“It’s my religion,” he said suddenly, cutting you off, “I’m Mandalorian, our armor and our weapons is our creed, we don’t show our face to anyone. No one has….” he stopped himself, his fingers flexing around the broken helmet and you could see the heaving of his chest as he drew a deep breath. 

“No one…has seen you without your helmet since you were a boy….” you whispered slowly as it dawned on you what he was saying. What it meant. You felt as if you should look away from him, leave the room, to give him privacy, and you moved to stand up, rising from the bed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what it meant to you.” 

“I’m no longer Mandalorian,” he said, holding up his hand to stop you, “My helmet has been removed, it doesn’t matter that you see my face now.”

“But I only did it to save your life,” you protested, “And you were unconscious.” 

“This is The Way,” he said, his voice solemn, emphasizing the phrase, “My helmet has been removed, and according to our creed, I am now an apostate.” 

“That’s cruel,” you exclaimed without thinking, sitting back down on the bed as he looked up at you again. 

“This is The Way,” he repeated, “I was raised as a foundling by the Mandalorians, and our creed is strict, but fair.” 

“Doesn’t seem fair that you’re an apostate just because I had to see your face to save your life.” 

He didn’t reply to that, and you dropped the topic, sitting in silence for a few minutes as you processed what you’d learnt. 

“Do you remember what caused your ship to crash?” you asked eventually and he nodded. 

“Pirates, I was preparing to jump into hyperspace, and they fired on the ship. I managed to make the jump but something was damaged and the ship was forced out of hyperspace, that’s probably what caused the damage you saw. I was in the hull repairing what the pirates’ blaster cannon had damaged when something exploded. I tried to find a planet to land on and saw this one but it was all covered in forest. The last thing I remember is a bright light and pain.” 

“You were lucky, your ship landed in the only big enough clearing for miles. But it’s got a hole in the side and is tilted sideways, you might have a lot of work to do before it can fly. And you need to get stronger first.” 

You paused for a beat, before you spoke again, “If you want to, you can stay here until you can leave, with or without your ship. My offer of getting you to Duebert still stands though.” 

He sighed, and putting the helmet to the side, he looked up at you. 

“Thank you, if it’s alright with you, I’ll stay here and repair the ship and my armor. I have very few credits, but I’ll pay you what I can.” 

“We don’t use credits that much on Shinu, we usually barter,” you said, “But if you can help me replace the medicine I’ve used, I’d be grateful.” 

He nodded as you pushed up off the bed, getting to your feet. 

“I’m starving, and I’m guessing you are too. Would you like some breakfast, maybe something solid this time?” 

The man nodded and you held out your hand to him, “I’ll help you to your feet, it’s not good for your healing process to be lying down all the time so you can sit in the kitchen while I make breakfast.” 

He looked at your hand with surprise as he slowly put out his own, the movement apprehensive, almost as if he was uncertain of taking your hand. When his hand touched yours, he briefly closed his eyes, his lips parting in an almost silent sigh. 

Covered head to toe in armor, no one has seen his face, and no one has touched him…

His grip on your hand tightened and you tried to keep your touch light and brief, as you helped him to his feet. But when he was steady, he was the one reluctant to let go, his hand remaining closed around yours as you stood in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth of him from beneath the shirt. 

You looked up at him, you had to tilt your head to see him properly as he drew to his full height, and found that he was already staring at you with wide eyes, searching your face. 

“I’m sorry….” he mumbled, his hold on your hand still tight, and his pulse thrummed visible in his neck as he swallowed. You gently raised your free hand and put it on his chest, feeling his rapid heart beat under your hand. He flinched at your touch, and then took a deep breath, air rushing out of his lungs. 

“Take your time,” you whispered softly, and he closed his eyes, sighing again. 

You stood still with the strange man for several long minutes. His heartbeat under your hand slowed down after a while, and his breathing slowed too, while his eyes remained closed. You didn’t want to disturb him, or rush him, so you closed your eyes too and followed his breathing. The scent of his shirt was close to you, but underneath was the sharp tang of sweat and blood, and something that reminded you of machine grease. As soon as his wound had closed up enough, maybe tonight, you’d let him take a shower. But for now, you just stood still close to him, a deep sense of calm coming over you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice low and quiet, “I…it’s been…a very long time.” 

You gently squeezed his hand that was still holding yours and looked up at him with a smile. 

“It felt special for me too,” you said, keeping your tone low to match his and the moment, “I feel like I can trust you more now.” 

“You saved my life, I would never do anything to hurt you,” he said, the sincerity clear on his face, “I owe you my life, even though I’m an apostate. That’s not your fault.” 

You nodded and he gave you the smallest of smiles, the first you’d seen from him, and somehow it lit up your insides, a tendril of warmth spreading through your limbs, and you smiled back at him. Moving to his side, you steadied him by taking his arm while he still had a firm grip on your hand, he almost seemed reluctant to let go now. 

“C’mon, walk slowly, we both need some breakfast.” 

Breakfast was a quiet affair, the man sitting awkwardly, leaning back in one of your kitchen chairs. You could tell both his injuries were causing him discomfort, but apart from mild painkillers, you didn’t have anything to help with the pain. He didn’t say anything either and apart from the strain on his face, he showed nothing of the pain. He kept glaring at Gearz though, who zoomed in and out of the front door while he went about his chores of weeding and watering your vegetable garden, his annoyance with the droid clear in his looks. Eventually you instructed Gearz to just stay in the garden with the chores, something about the droid was clearly disturbing your guest. 

At least he ate well enough, and the strong and sweet herbal tea you brewed from a local plant earned the rave review of him asking for a refill. When breakfast was done, you asked if he wanted to go back to the room or stay on the couch. He looked around the small house with some confusion until his gaze came back to you, waiting for his answer by the table. 

“I’m in your bedroom,” he said, and it was more of a statement than a question, a habit you’d noticed he had in his manner of speaking. 

“Yeah, well, I only have one bedroom and not many guests so…. And I’m not gonna let an injured man sleep on the couch.” 

“I can sleep on the couch tonight,” he said immediately, but you shook your head. 

“Out of the question. You need proper, solid rest, it’s the best healer, and you won’t be getting that on the couch.” 

He opened his mouth to say something else but you held up your hand, “Not another word, you’re sleeping in the bed until I decide you’re well enough.” 

His mouth closed with a snap, his eyebrows furrowed tightly in defiance, but he didn’t say anything else. 

“So do you want to stay here or go back to bed?” you asked again now that you’d won that argument. 

“I’d like to see my ship,” he said, “But you’re not gonna let me, are you?” 

“That’s correct, at least not today,” you replied, “But, tomorrow, I promise. It’s not far but we’ll get the transporter and I’ll take you so that you can see for yourself what kind of damage it has.” 

He nodded and made to stand up, wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches. 

“Easy…” you said, putting out your hand to him. He hesitated for a moment before he took it, and you gently put your arm around his waist. It seemed that even the smallest physical contact was something he had to work up to, maybe something he craved, but also something so foreign to him that it felt disquieting. Either way, you let him take the lead as you slowly walked to the bedroom together. Arranging the pillow under his head, you helped him lie back down as he looked up at you. 

“Thank you,” he said, moving to take hold of the helmet that was still lying on the bed. 

You gave him a smile and pulled up the blanket, “Get some more rest, and if you feel steadier this evening, there’s plenty of hot water for a shower. I think you’ll feel better once you’ve cleaned up. I’ll get you some of my father’s clothes so that you have something clean to change into.” 

He nodded, the effort of sitting up and walking showing in the dark circles under his eyes. He was healing fast, but blood loss always took longer to get over and it still showed in his pale complexion. 

You pulled the door closed behind you and began cleaning up the meal and preparing a stew for dinner. You wanted him to have as much hearty food as possible while he was here, it would help with his strength as much as the rest. 

Most of the day had passed before you checked in on your guest again, gently tapping on the door. 

“You’re awake,” you smiled at him as you saw him half sitting up in bed, looking much better. Some more of his color had returned to his face and the way he was sitting up indicated that some more of his strength had returned. He had the container with his armor next to the bed, and was examining the chest plate as you came in. 

“I need to clean my armor,” he said, looking up, “You were right about the blood, there’s a lot.” 

“And even more on the floor of your ship I’m afraid,” you replied, “I can get you rags and a cleaning agent tomorrow if you want to?” 

He nodded, “Thanks, that’d be helpful.” 

“And how about a shower now?” 

He nodded at that too, moving to get up from the bed. 

“Do you need help, or do you feel strong enough to stand?” you asked, and he paused. His feet were on the floor, one hand on the side of the bed. 

“I think I can stand on my own,” he replied after a moment, “but….” he trailed off, a red blush suddenly creeping up along his neck as he looked down at his thighs. 

“Anything I can help you with?” you asked softly, waiting for him to regain his composure before he swallowed uncomfortably. 

“My..boots, and socks…I can’t reach them without disturbing the stitches.” 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling. It was too sweet how the big injured man sitting on your bed was embarrassed to ask for help with his socks. Of course, with the life he’d had of no one ever seeing anything of his body or face, and with the way he reacted to being touched, it was evident that he’d be awkward with this too. But it still endeared him to you, that something so every day as helping someone with their boots, was such a hurdle for him. 

“Of course, no problem,” you replied, kneeling down in front of him and working the fastening of the straps. The boots slipped off easily enough, with a distinct smell of sour socks that you tried to ignore, keeping your face impassive. 

The man shifted above you, clearing his throat, “Sorry…I…I can’t really smell much under the helmet.” 

“I’ve smelled worse,” you smiled up at him, “But I’ll put your boots outside and throw the socks in the wash if you don’t mind?” 

He gave you a silent nod, flexing his pale toes as they were finally freed. 

You followed him as he made his way to the refresher, and showed him how your water shower worked. One thing your planet did not lack was fresh water, thanks to the large forests that covered it, but you knew it could be very scarce in other parts of the galaxy. 

“The door has no lock, just yell or something if you need help, there’s soap in the dish that you’re welcome to use,” you told him after handing him a clean towel and clothes, “And shower for as long as you want, there’s plenty of hot water.” 

He glanced up at the shower head and nodded, “Thanks, this is a luxury.” 

“I hope you enjoy it then,” you smiled. 

You closed the door behind you, and got to work. The water soon turned on and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped when you heard a loud, satisfied groan from the ‘fresher. He was clearly enjoying the hot water and you guessed it would take some time before he came back out. 

While he was in the shower you put his boots outside, put the bed clothes and his clothes in the wash, including the flight suit that you’d had to cut away from him, and remade the bed with fresh sheets and aired out the room. Dinner was almost done, so you laid the table and prepared the stew too, you were just about done when you heard the water turn off. Tendrils of steam were escaping from under the door and you could smell the pine of the soap. A few minutes later the door opened, letting out a cloud of steam and more pine scent, along with your, now clean, patient. 

“You look like a new man,” you smiled at him, motioning for him to sit down at the table. 

“I feel…amazing…” he sighed, sinking down in the chair and the honesty in his reply made you laugh. 

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed the shower. I hope you enjoy dinner too and then you’ll be halfway to all good by tomorrow morning.” 

“I feel like I’m halfway there already,” he replied, accepting the bowl you put down in front of him along with slices of simple bread, “You’re a skilled healer.” 

You smiled at his complement, and sat down across from him with your own bowl. 

“Can I…can I ask you something?” you asked hesitantly, “And you don’t have to answer, but it's something I noticed while I treated you.” 

“Ok,” he replied, already filling his mouth with the stew. 

“Actually, it’s two questions, I just realised,” you said, nervously picking at the slice of bread you’d picked up, “First…I noticed…you have a lot of scars, both old and new,” you glanced up at him and found him looking at you, his dark eyes fixed on yours with a directness he usually didn’t show, “Are you a soldier? A rebel?”

He shook his head, “I’m not a rebel, but I’m not imperial either. I’m a bounty hunter.” 

Your trepidation must’ve shown on your face as you dropped the now shredded piece of bread and he held up his palm, placating. 

“You’re not in any danger. There is no bounty on you.”

“Well, that’s good to know at least…” you said, trying to give him an amused smile, it felt more like a grimace, but the bounty hunter just shook his head, a serious look on his face. 

“You saved my life,” he said, “and to a Mandalorian, even though I’m an apostate, that is not something we take lightly.”

You nodded, trying to not imagine what it would be like to have the armor-covered man with all his weapons hunting you, a terrifying thought to say the least. Even without the armor he was a big man, tall and muscular with a wide build. And if the scars were anything to go by, he’d been in plenty of fights and survived. To have this skilled fighter come after you with the intent to capture or kill you…the thought made a shudder run down your spine and you were suddenly extra grateful for living in this peaceful backwater part of the galaxy. 

“Don’t be scared,” his low voice came from across the table, “you’re safer now than before you found me.” 

You looked up at him, questioning his logic, “What do you mean?” 

“Now you have a Mandalorian indebted to you, and most think twice before threatening what I protect.” 

His voice had taken on a cocksure tone, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smug smile as he made his statement. You were suddenly given a glimpse of the confidence he must carry when he was in his armor and covered by the helmet, a warrior who probably saw most of the world bend to his will. And if it didn’t, he made sure it did with his skills and weapons. 

“What’s your second question?” he asked, pulling you away from the image that was forming in your mind. 

“What’s your name? I realised I don’t know what to call you?” 

He tilted his head to the side with a small movement, holding your gaze briefly before looking down at his plate, his confident manner suddenly fading away. 

“People call me ‘Mando’,” he said after a few moments of prolonged silence. 

“They call you ‘Mando’?” you asked, “But that’s not your name?” 

“No.” 

The silence stretched between you and he said nothing more. You both ate the meal, stillness filling the kitchen until ‘Mando’ put down his spoon and drew a deep breath, seemingly coming to a point where he needed to speak. 

“I…I’m…not keeping my identity from you because I don’t trust you…” he said finally. His voice had returned to the low, uncertain tone it had carried earlier, and he kept his eyes on his hands on the table. “There are very few Mandalorians left, and we keep ourselves secret and protected. Part of that is not sharing our names, and people outside my covert call me ‘Mando’ and know nothing more about me. By seeing my face, you know more about me than any other living being and that…” he trailed off, suddenly rubbing his face with his large hands in a gesture very uncharacteristic for the man who was usually very measured in every movement. But now his hands fell to the table again and he looked up at you, pain etched across every feature, his eyebrows pulled together tight as you realised panic was building in his eyes. 

Your instinct probably went against everything he’d ever learnt, but you couldn’t stop it. You stood up from your chair and rounded the table, reaching for him. And with a loud exhale, a rush of air escaping him, he grabbed you, his arms pulling you in as he buried his face against your neck. His chest was heaving, his breath coming out in gasps tight against your shirt, warming your skin, and his arms held you like a vice, tight, tight, while the panic washed through him. 

You held him just as tight, your hands finding their way to his back and into the damp curls of his dark hair. Stroking his back in long, slow movements, you hummed against his head, trying to soothe him with soft words. 

“Breathe…you’re safe, just breathe…” 

Underneath your arms, he was trembling, fighting with emotions you could only guess at, but slowly his breathing calmed. A long inhale was finally followed by a shuddering exhale that seemed to drain him, making him slump in your arms. He didn’t loosen his grip, so you made no sign of moving either, continuing to stroke his back slowly and gently. 

“Din…” he mumbled against your neck, a barely audible word, “My name is Din.” 

“Just breathe, Din,” you whispered, “you’re safe.” 

After Din had gone back to bed, his posture slumped and drained but his mind calmer, you went outside and sat down on the bench that faced your garden. The night sky was clear and full of stars with just a thin sliver of your planet’s small moon hanging low above the treetops.

Leaning back against the wall of the house, you went through the events of the past few days. Your patient, Din, you corrected yourself, was healing fast, but the added complication of his creed, and losing his helmet, was an unexpected development. It seemed ridiculous to you, that having his helmet removed by someone in order to save his life would lead to him being an apostate. But he seemed adamant that this was the case. Even more troubling was that a man of his age, somewhere in his thirties you’d guess, had lived most of his life closed off from contact, never showing his face and never being touched. The panic and agitation he’d shown at the beginning made sense in light of that, and you wished you’d known what a Mandalorian was before you met him so that you could’ve treated him differently. 

And then your question about his work and his name. He was proud to be a bounty hunter, and clearly proud of his skills, it showed in the confidence that filled him when he spoke of how he could protect you. But you never would’ve guessed that asking about his name would cause such anguish in him, it seemed to run deeper than just keeping it protected. But like his face, keeping it secret served to keep him and his covert safe and by asking about it, you seemed to have touched upon a very difficult subject. 

But he did tell me his name in the end, you thought to yourself, looking up at the stars and bright planets. He’d come from one of them, you might not even be able to see it, but that’s where he came from. And he’d fallen into your care, and somehow, he trusted you enough to tell you his name, and reach for you when the panic set in. Maybe it was because he was already more exposed then he’d ever been in his life, and he was forced to trust you, but whatever the reason, it made you happy that this strange man did trust you. 

You suddenly felt fiercely protective of him, you would never betray his trust, especially since he’d given you his name freely. It wasn’t like when you had to remove his helmet and he had no control over you seeing his face. He’d told you his name freely and it felt like a gift, as if by giving you his name he was showing you that he trusted you wholly. You would not betray that to anyone. 

You quietly returned to the house and glanced towards the bedroom door while you got ready for another night on the couch. Din had left the door ajar, and you could see him stretched out on the bed with an arm thrown over his eyes. Pale starlight illuminated what you could make out of his face and chest where he’d pushed the blanket down. Maybe it was the dim night light, but you found yourself staring at him, the strong lines of his jaw and nose, the shadows of his facial hair, mirrored on his chest and the dark trail that disappeared under the blanket. He looked both strong and vulnerable at the same time, someone you wanted to protect as well as someone you’d seek out for safety and comfort. A sudden attraction for the man filled you, and you wished fixing his ship would take a long time, that he’d stay in your house and not disappear off to the stars again. You would like to have his company and learn more about him.  

Din flinched in his sleep, mumbling something under his breath, and it roused you out of your reverie, moving you to the couch. But you placed your pillow so that you could see Din in your bed from across the room and through the open door. Your strange guest, who was less of a stranger now, was the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for the night. 

Sweet readers! I hope you like the story so far! This is my first "proper" Din fic and I'm really hoping I'm capturing his voice even though I've stuck him a very difficult situation. The story is 7 chapters long and I'll be posting updates pretty often (it's already written).

[dekariosclan]

I’m curious how you think Gale would handle his beloved Tav who has epilepsy? It’s something I’ve struggled with for about 8 years now, and it’s a disability now often recognized.

Do you think he’d make some sort of potion to stop the seizures? Or maybe he’d enchanted a piece of jewelry to stop them? Idk, whatever you think!

For me my seizures typically happen within an hour of waking up, and are trigger by flashing lights and sleep deprivation. My seizures are always grand Mal seizures, which basically means I violently convulse and lose consciousness for a short period of time. If you have any questions or anything, feel free to DM me! I’m happy to help! And thank you for taking time k read and possible write this, I know it’s not easy. :) 💜

@nerbyrobotics, I’m so sorry that you have to deal with such a severe condition, but I’m happy to answer your question because I can’t think of a better or more loving partner for someone struggling with epilepsy than Gale.

You know, one of the reasons I think Gale would be absolutely amazing at caring for a partner with health issues isn’t just because of his loving heart and kind nature—both of which are still very important qualities!—but because he knows what it is like to have a debilitating condition. One where he was wholly dependent on others helping him and offering him assistance during his flare-ups. After experiencing such a condition and the stress and anxiety that goes along with it, Gale would be completely empathetic to his beloved’s struggle and would go out of his way to do whatever he could to ease their burden.

Of course, I think if there were any possibility of Gale curing Tav completely, he would go for it—even if doing so had a fair chance of danger (to him, not Tav). If a cure wasn’t possible, then the next option he would try would be exactly what you said: potions or enchanted jewelry to prevent the seizures entirely—and you’d best believe he’d stay on top of keeping those potions filled and that jewel enchanted at all times.

If prevention was not possible, then Gale would set up some sort of means of proactive protection—for example, enchanted jewelry for both Tav and Gale that would give an alert that a seizure was imminent so they could prepare for it. There would be pillows enchanted to always protect Tav’s head during an episode, and Gale’s mirror image on standby to assist Tav if needed, whether ‘real’ Gale was present at the time or not.

In short, Tav would never be left with the anxiety of being alone, or unprepared, or feeling like a burden in dealing with their health—because Gale would know how awful that feels, and would do everything in his power to give his beloved the security and confidence to live their life to the fullest, while still being fully prepared to help them overcome any obstacles arising from their epilepsy.

Op, I sincerely hope you have someone like Gale in your life to offer you loving support through your health journey, and I wish you nothing but the best in your future. 💜

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Imagine Hydra coming back after Bucky’s adopted daughter when she is walking home from school (Bucky definitely told her NOT to walk home, that he or another Avenger would pick her up because of the risk, but she walked home to the Avengers HQ anyway)

Not Worth The Risk » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Dad/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Adopted Teen Daughter!Reader with the Avengers

Summary: Bucky tells you not to walk home from school cause it’s a risk, but you do it anyway and you quickly learn why it’s a risk to walk home.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, language, HYDRA, crying, nicknames

Age of reader: 15 years old

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

A/N #2: This is different from what I normally write so I decided to give it a try. Enjoy!

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

“Y/N, hurry up or you’ll be late for school.” Bucky says, walking in your bedroom.

“I’m ready.” You say as you finished tying your shoes.

You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder, following your dad out to the car.

“Dad, can I walk home from school today?” You asked.

“No.” Bucky answers, opening the car door.

“Why not?” You asked. “Some of my friends are walking home.” You say.

“I’m not your friends’ dad. I’m your dad and I told you, no.” He says.

You huffed and got in the car. Bucky got in the car and started it.

“Can you at least tell me why?” You asked.

“It’s too much of a risk.” He says.

“How’s walking home from school a risk?” You asked.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you, doll.” He says.

“Oh ok.” You say quietly.

Bucky pulled up to the school. You grabbed your backpack and got out of the car. He rolled down the window and called out for you.

“Have a good day at school, doll. I love you.” Bucky says.

“I love you too, dad.” You say.

You walked along the sidewalk of the school and went inside. You were greeted by your friends.

“Did you ask your dad if you can walk home from school with us?” Your friend asks.

“He said no. I think I should listen to him.” You say.

“What your dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Another one of your friends say.

You thought about it for a second. You know you shouldn’t be the kid who doesn’t listen to their parents. In a way, your friend is right. What your dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Ok. I’ll walk home with you guys.” You finally say.

The bell rang and everyone went to class. After school, you walked home with your friends. You were about halfway to the Avengers compound when all of your friends went their separate ways to go home. You were the only one left to get home.

You walked down a shady looking street when something didn’t feel right. It felt like someone was watching and following you. It was a gut feeling. Your gut feeling was right. Before you knew it, you were grabbed from behind and a hand with a cloth was put over your mouth. Your screams were muffled by the hand. You tried to fight the person of, but you grew weak and passed out.

“Who’s picking Y/N up from school today?” Bucky asks as he walks in the lounge room.

“Me.” Wanda said as she walked in the room. “She wasn’t there.” She says.

“What do you mean she wasn’t there? Where is she?” He asks.

“The school said she walked home with her friends.” She tells him.

Bucky scoffs and shook his head.

“She knows better not to do that.” Bucky says.

Bucky rubs his hands over his face and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out where you might be.

“Where would she be?” Bucky says more to himself.

“Don’t you have some kind of parent app on your phone that shows you Y/N’s location?” Steve asks.

“Yes I do.” He says.

Bucky got his phone out of pocket and went on the app. Your location popped up within a few seconds. Bucky furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“Why would she be downtown? She knows not to go down there unless if she’s with one of us.” Bucky says.

“I can get the precise location if you want.” Natasha suggests.

“Do it.” He says.

Natasha got on a computer and looked for your precise location, which took a few minutes.

“Got it.” She said. “It looks like she’s in some kind of lab that’s now abandoned.” She says.

“Why would she be exploring an abandoned lab?” Tony asks.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“HYDRA.” Bucky said. “They have my daughter.” He says.

Bucky felt himself beginning to panic. You not listening to what he said this morning is the last thing on his mind.

“Suit up and get your weapons. Y/N needs our help.” Bucky says.

“Buck, we can’t go there without a plan.” Steve says.

“My plan is to save my daughter from the people who keep trying to ruin my life.” He says. “Are you guys going to help me or not?” He asks.

“We’ll help you.” Steve says.

The Avengers nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, you woke up in some kind of lab. The room was dimly lit. You looked around the room to gather your surroundings. You looked down, noticing that your arms and legs are tied to a chair.

“What the hell?” You mumbled to yourself, yanking at the ropes.

You got startled when the door opened. A man in a white lab coat walked in the room, along with a few men dressed in all black tactical gear and had guns in their holsters.

“You’re awake!” The man in the lab coat says.

“Where am I?” You asked.

“That’s not important. What’s important is, you know someone who used to work for us.” He says.

You stared at the man in confusion. You had no clue who or what this man is talking about. Then you realized that he was talking about your dad.

“I have no idea who or what you’re talking about.” You say, lying through your teeth.

“Don’t play dumb. You know who and what I’m exactly talking about.” He says.

“What I do know is, my dad is going to be pissed when he finds out you guys kidnapped me.” You say.

All the man did was laugh at what you said.

“Ah yes, your father… the infamous Winter Soldier.” The man approached you and crouched down in front of you. “We know he adopted you a few years ago. So just give him up to us and we’ll set you free.” He says.

“No!” You say.

“Ok, suit yourself.” He stood up. “You guys know what to do.” He says to the HYDRA agents.

The agents nodded. Two of them held you against the chair so you couldn’t move. You watched the man in the lab coat pick up a syringe. Your eyes went eye. As you were about to start panicking, the door was busted down, revealing your dad and Steve. You felt relieved to see them.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Captain America and the infamous Winter Soldier.” The man says.

“Give me my daughter.” Bucky demands.

The man chuckles and puts the syringe down.

“She was never your daughter. I don’t know why you would go through the trouble to save a child who isn’t biologically yours.” He says.

“Shut the fuck up!” Bucky shouts.

Bucky walks over to the man and knocks him out in one punch. That’s when the HYDRA agents held their guns at him. He fought them off with Steve’s help. Then he untied you from the chair.

“Are you ok, doll? Are you injured?” He asks, checking you for any injuries.

“N-No, I’m fine. I’m just a little shaken up.” You say in a shaky voice.

“Let’s get out of here.” Steve says.

You got on the quinjet with your dad and Steve, along with the rest of the Avengers. During the flight back to the compound, you had a feeling that your dad was mad at you for not listening to what he said. You avoided eye contact with him the whole flight.

When you guys got to the compound, everyone exited the quinjet. You made a beeline for your bedroom to avoid a lecture from your dad, but there’s no way you can escape that lecture now.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Bucky asks.

“My room.” You say.

“Not until we talk. Sit down.” He demands, pointing to the lounge room.

You walked in the lounge room and sat down on the couch. Bucky stood in front of you with his hands on his hips.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled.

“I need a better answer than “I don’t know”.” He says.

“My friends talked me into it.” You tell him. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You and uncle Steve walked home from school when you guys were my age.” You say.

“The deal is HYDRA. They weren’t a threat when him and I were teenagers, but they are now.” He said. “I told you multiple times not to walk home from school and to wait for me or one of the Avengers to pick you up.” He says.

You looked down, avoiding eye contact with him. Now, you feel guilt for not listening to him. You didn’t realize it was such a big deal.

“I’m sorry, dad.” You apologized, your eyes tearing up.

You stood up and walked out of the room, going straight to your room. Bucky was about to follow you, but Clint stopped him.

“Let her cool down for a little bit.” Clint says.

Bucky nods and went to the gym to cool down himself. He punched the punching bag for a little bit. You were in your room, laying on your bed and staring at the in front of you. Tears stained your cheeks. You thought about how you didn’t listen to what your dad said. You felt bad and should’ve listened to him. You now realize it wasn’t worth the risk to walk home from school. You got out of bed and went to find your dad to apologize to him again. You walked in the gym to see your dad punching a punching bag.

“Dad?” You say.

Bucky stopped what he was doing and turned around to see you standing a couple feet away from him. He seen tears stained on your cheeks.

“Hey, doll. What’s up?” Bucky asks.

Instead of saying anything, you walked over to him and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. I was just curious about what it was like to walk home from school. I shouldn’t have let my friends talk me into it. I promise to listen better and it won’t happen again.” You say, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Doll, look at me please.” Bucky says softly.

You sniffled and looked up at your dad.

“I want you to understand that I’m doing everything in my power to protect you. When I say no to something and when something isn’t worth the risk, that’s me protecting you.” He says.

“I understand, dad.” You replied.

“You’re a good kid and I love you.” He says, kissing your forehead.

“I love you too, dad.” You smiled, hugging him tightly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[morallygrayboys]

Wally Clark NSFW! alphabet

Requested by the lovely @notheoneuneed

I lowkey giggled so much when writing this. Thanks for the request!!! ♡

For more like this, check out my request list! ♡

If anyone wants me to turn this into a fic like "alphabet soup" by the amazing, @whoopsyeahokay , I would be happy to! ♡ (For real, tho, that fic got me through so many boring class periods, and it needs more recognition! 😪)

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A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man FOR SURE is an aftercare king! He makes sure his partner is cleaned up, hydrated, and well cared for. I feel like he's definitely the type of man to run a bath for his partner if he was a little rough, or just in general.

B - Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Wally is a big boy, so I feel like his favorite part of HIS body would be his hands. Being able to hold his partner close to him is a must for intercourse. He 100% uses those fingers to his advantage. 🤭

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Let's get one thing straight. Wally may have been an 80s jock and a bully, but he treats his lady RIGHT. He is not cumming anywhere but inside her, condom or not. With her permission, of course. He would never disrespect his lady by painting her with his cum like a common whore. #gentleman

D - Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don't think he has any, to be honest. I feel like he'd be very open and honest with his partner about what he likes/ is willing to do.

E - Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

This man has been dead for 40 years... He's got experience. For those saying, "Well, he hasn't had anyone to practice with," the man probably found a way to fulfill his needs.

F - Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. Easy. Wally is a sensitive, romantic soul. He loves and craves intimacy, which missionary gives. He's the type of person to look into his partners eyes as they reach climax.

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Goofy, he's a silly goofy boy. It's a very intimate act, so he'll try and lighten the mood if it's your first time to make you more comfortable.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's got a little stubble. C'mon, guys, he's been stuck in school for 40 years. There's not much to work with. But he does try his best to keep it well managed.

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like I said before, this man is a GENTLEMAN. He will not cum before you, and will make sure you cum at least twice before he does. He will definitely hold you as close to him as possible when he cums. Giving kisses to your body as you come down from your high, and giving encouraging words/praise the whole time.

J - Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He's been trapped in high school for 40 years. There's no way that someone hasn't caught him "relieving himself" at some point. He'll definitely jack off to a polaroid of you.

K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation. He loves to make his partner cum multiple times. It gives him a sense of accomplishment and pride that he made his partner feel so good.

L - Location (favorite places to do the do)

Wally is not picky. He will take you anywhere you let him. The gym, the football field, the cafeteria, the hallway during passing period. If you say yes, this man is taking FULL advantage of that consent.

M - Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything and everything. This man LOVES you with all his heart. Anything you do turns him on. If you even breathe the same air as him, he gets hard.

N - No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I think the only thing that he wouldn't do would be anything that disrespects or hurts his partner.

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes giving and receiving, but he prefers giving. He loves to feel the way his partner shakes and loves hearing their whines as he makes them cum.

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He'll go at whatever pace you ask, but if he's in a particular mood, girl, you better hold tf on because he's gonna take you to pound town.

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes. The answer is yes. He will take you anywhere any chance he can get it. He loves to be intimate with his partner, mostly to let everyone know that they belong to him.

R - Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He usually likes to keep it simple, but if you ask him, I'm sure he won't mind trying something new. He would definitely take the risk of a pregnancy just to feel himself filling you up and marking you in a primal way that only HE can.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh honey, this man can go forever. That man is a big boy athlete and can go on, and on, and on, WELL after you've finished.

T - Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He'd probably use a vibrator on his partners clit while he ruts deep into them, maximizing their pleasure and his. He loves to hear the whimpers that you'd make, it just eggs him on even more.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he's a tease. Wally will edge you until you BEG for him to make you cum, drawing out your pleasure just to make you fucking EXPLODE. And he'll do it with a smile on his face.

V - Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud. Loud Asf. He wants the world to know how good you make him feel, and he'll let you know, too. He'll tell you things like, "fuckk, you're doing so good, baby." "Keep going, just like that," and so on.

W - Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Your first time with him is very romantic, he's got a bed set up, there's flowers and music, the whole package. There's nothing he won't do to make you feel comfortable.

X - X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big boy. Big, big boy. I'm saying like 7-8 inches. He's both a grower AND a shower. He's 6 inches soft, which you can tell from the scenes with him wearing sweatpants.

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Like I said before, if he's horny, he'll let you know. And then he'll go until you tell him to stop. Wally LOVES you and is NOT afraid to let anyone and everyone know.

Z - Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends on how long you let him go for, but he'll usually hold you close to him and rub your back until you fall asleep. He's a protector, so he won't sleep until he knows you're safe.

~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~

[thewritersaddictions]

Drabbles: (COD) 141 It's Just A prank

I keep seeing this prank on my tiktok, and I'm finally up to write something, so here we go. Hope you enjoy my edition of "Telling mom no" Prank

WC- 3.5k

Ghost ( Simon Riley)

The telly in front of Simon plays the most recents rugby game. Dinner was almost ready. He could smell the sweet fragrant smell of the food that his sweetheart had been cooking. Their son and daughter watching you from the table.

Simon could hear you rambling on to your young daughter. Her babbles and groans can be heard through the house. You're also talking to your five year son. Last he knew his son was sitting on a chair watching you chop veggies. When Simon had been told by you "Go sit down Si watch the game, and zone out." With a peck to his cheek and a shove to push him out of the kitchen.

He could just barely you over the volume of the TV. Though he would pick your voice over the sound of the tv any day. Simon grabs the remote and turns the volume down just in time to hear you ask your five year old son "Could you please set the table for dinner bubba?"

There's silence for a minute, and then a harsh and strong "NO" It doesn't really register at first. Since the birth of his son, Simon had taught his son to not only respect every single person he met but especially his momma. "Bubba, please don't make me ask again." Your voice is level. Simon knows that your son didn't take his afternoon nap, so he's okay with letting it slide that he's got an attitude with his momma.

Except his feet are carrying him towards the kitchen when he hears his son shout yet again "No momma you can't make me." He really does try to curb his anger when he set foot in the kitchen.

"Why do I hear you not doin' what your momma asked of you?" Simons starts off almost immediately. He sees his sons wide with fear. He's never heard the fury of his fathers voice.

When he looks over at you though your hand is covering your mouth, brows arched. He knows that face. His sons voice cuts through the silence. "Momma said that it was gonna be funny, she said so." Your hand drops from your face and you give your son a look. "Bubba, you said you could keep a secret." You says to your son. "But Daddy" he points at Simon. "He says always be respectful to you."

You look back to your husband. A simple prank that you had seen on social media. His brow arched as he looks between you and your son. "What kinda prank is that?" Simon asks you. "It was supposed to be a funny one. Not one that makes our son turn on me right away." Your grovel. Returning to your cooking. "You can't prank me, with our own kids bird. I've taught him far to well for that to work." Simons says standing behind you. A quick peck to your cheek before looking over at your son. "You are gonna set the table though buddy." Your son is nodding his head and grabbing his daddys hand to get help with the plates and silverware.

Gaz (Kyle Garrick)

Your daughter was the apple of Kyles eye. She could do no wrong. No matter what she did, your husband was always there to help her through it, but now she's at that age where she's throwing more and more attitude. Saying things that are catching you off guard.

With Kyle being away he has yet to notice the shift. You knock on your daughters bedroom. She's in her early teens and she sensitive about everything. "What mum?" She shrieks from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?" She huffs but opens the door.

Theres an akward silence between the two of you for the first few seconds. I was thinking with your dad coming home soon, that maybe we could prank him." An olive branch, a way to mend the teenage bridge between you and your daughter.

She looks at you sideways. Cora looks me up and down, before nodding. You smile. Sitting down on the edge of her bed. Telling her your idea. One that you had gotten from tiktok. Whether it is the ability to be able to yell, and shout you or the just that she can trick her dad Cora agrees nonetheless.

Kyle comes back in just a few days. So you and cora end up setting the whole thing up. "When ever we are all together when I ask you to do something I want to just either ignore me, or… you can say one bad word. Any word you want to." Her light up. "Any bad word, and I wont get in trouble?" Cora doesn't really trust that she won't get in trouble, but with a simple nod of your head she agrees to the terms.

Two long days pass. Waking up to the cold bed is okay, but you know that Kyle will be back tonight. You grab your clothes getting ready for the day while your daughter gets ready for school. You remind her before she slips from the car that her father will be home tonight, and wave her goodbye as walks to her friends.

Kyle comes home later that night to the smell of a fresh cooked meal and you and your daughter both setting the table. The bag gets dropped by the door, toeing off his combat boots. It all happens so fast how he's got the both of you in his arms, pressing kisses to your cheeks. Breathing in a must need breathe of fresh air.

"How have my lovies been?" He asks when he finally lets go of the both of you. "Good daddy." Cora says sweetly as she sits down in front of her plate. "We've been good, just been missing you is all." You say reaching out to grab his hand. He squeezing your hand and goes to eating.

Dinner is smooth. A calmness that covers the house is warm and inviting. It's nice to have Kyle back, bring that bright smile back him even if the dark circles under his eyes show just how little sleep he managed to get will out on his mission with the 141.

You get up grabbing everyones plate, and bring them to the sink. Loading the sink to the brim with dirty dishes. You'll help her after the two of you play this prank on Kyle.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen Kyle has already left the room. His heavy footsteps can be heard in the laundry room. He always does his wash when he first gets home then switches into his sweats and an old army t-shirt that Kyle has had since Coras birth.

You nod at your daughter as you hear him walk towards your shared bedroom. "Honey can you do the dishes for me while I put away leftovers." You're shouting, louder then needed but you wanna make sure that Kyle hears this entire conversation. "I'm not doing the fucking dishes you bitch."

You aren't shocked one bit, by her choice of curse words. You know that aren't really mean, hell she's smiling right at you. But the man that is currently stomping towards the kitchen doesn't know just how hard the two of you are trying to keep your laughs from escaping your chests.

Loud, and thundering footsteps finally stop when you spot Kyle. You've never seen his face flushed with so much anger. The calm demeanor he had before was gone. Jaw set and fist flexing in his hand. "I know I didn't just hear you call your mum a bitch and say the word fuck." He's fuming, "I thought we taught you better Cora, but I guess not. Have you been treating your mother like this the entire time I've been gone? I hope to god that you haven't because if I hear that you have been…" Theres a chill in the air. You may have let this go on for a bit longer then needed, because yes her attitude has been shit but a part of you knows she just misses her father just as much as you miss your husband.

You step in finally after a look over at Coras glosses eyes. "Honey it was just a prank. She didn't mean it. Did you Cora?" You ask looking over at your daughter. She shakes her head quickly. Kyle has never once raised his voice, so maybe she's a bit scared.

"Huh?" Kyles brows arch as he looks between the two of you. His chest is heaving as he tries to gain some sort of control back over his anger. "I…Why would you… that was just plain mean." He says stumbling over his words. "We just wanted to prank you." Coras words are quiet, trembling out of her mouth.

Your husband takes a deep breath before walking over towards your daughter. "I'm sorry baby." He says sweetly and much more calmly. Her nose twitches and you know she wants to cry, Kyle must see it to cause he's wrapping her in a huge hug and squeezing her tightly in his grip.

That night your daughter crawls between you and your husband as the movies starts. "I'm sorry mum." She whispers. "Never mind that baby, just watch the movie." You mutter quietly back to her as you press a kiss to her forehead.

Price (John Price)

The middle child always is either forgotten or holds the most responsibility there is simple no in between (yes that's a pun) Regardless of that though. With John you have three children. Your oldest Jack is just about to start his university years. Your middle son Oliver who's in the half way point of secondary school, and your youngest Ivy who's just done with primary school.

John retired when you brought your only baby-girl into the world. John has been there for every single basketball game, every soccer game, and every single ballet practice, and performance. Never missing a single day of his children lifes. One night as you lay in bed Oliver comes to you with a confession. "Mum I need to tell you something." He says. His father is probably asleep watching the some sports game again. "Yeah honey what's going on?" You asks setting down your kindle. Patting the side of the bed for him to come over and sit with you.

He swallows and comes over, and for a minute its silent. "I feel like I have more chores then the Jack and Ivy." You go to start talking, but he shakes his head. "I looked at the chore chart mum, it's not fair. I have to do the dishes, clean up after them after dinner, do the laundry, my homework, and make sure that I'm getting good enough grades to continue playing sports." He's stressed you can see the signs that his father passed down to him. You think for a moment. Right now your two other kids are probably talking to friends or playing some sort of games, and you had asked poor Oli to do all the cleaning after you had put away the leftovers from dinner.

It's a few days later and many hours on TikTok later when you see a video. A mother and her kid pranking their father by saying 'no'. You thought for a moment, and went searching for more. You had yet to tell John about the stress that you both had been placing on your middle child. Later when you picked up Oli, you set out a plan. A plan that could be a prank for John, but also maybe a teaching moment for Jack, and Ivy. A plan that Oli doesn't really understand, but he understand that this will hopefully help everyone see where things might have fallen off the track.

So a week later after dinner with John, Jack, and Ivy sitting in the living room watching some tv you nod at Oli. "Oliver, clear off the table and do the dishes." Not a questions a demand. Unlike usual where Oli jumps out of his chair grabbing plates, cups, and silverware he doesn't. He looks over to the living room, and then back at you wanting reassurance. "No." A moment of silence and then "What?" Playing into this as much as possible. "I didn't make this whole mess. So I shouldn't have to do all this cleaning by myself either." His points are valid, but to get John to come into the room you have to get louder. "Why can't Jack, and Ivy do it?" He asks louder, "because Oliver Price, I asked you to do it!" You practically shout back. "And I said NO." He stomps off towards his room.

It takes John a minute but he's in the room before Oliver can make his way towards his bedroom out even out of the dining room. "what is going on right now?" He asks, brows furrowed down on his face. "I asked Oliver to do something and he keeps giving me backtalk, saying that Jack and Ivy should be helping." You say faux anger.

"Oliver." John says sternly. He may not be in the service anymore but that stern commanding voice hasn't left his body, and probably never will. "I won't do them dad. Jack and Ivy don't do anything around here. I clean all the dishes, I do all the laundry, I do everything and i still have to make sure that I have good grades so i can play sports. It's unfair especially when they get to do whatever they want to do all the time. I barely get to hang out with my friends because I don't have the time." You son says, releasing a bit of anger, and sadness more then he had when he talked to weeks ago.

John has always been an understanding man, always listened to his men in 141. Never did things that were not rational. Always wanted the truth, so the silence that surrounds the room is not something you weren't excepting. He watching his son, and listening to his two other kids chatter away in the other room.

"JACK! IVY" John yells, in a short moment the both of them are standing there staring at their father and brother and you. "What's up dad?" Jack asks. "What chores do you have?" He asks straightforward. "I um… I've got my… Some times I vacuum" "So I'm hearing a lot of nothing." John says, looking over at Ivy, he repeats his questions. "I help mum sometimes with making dinner." She says proudly. She might be in primary school, but she has no chores either. Leaving everything that doesn't get done by John or you on Oli's tiny shoulders.

"That's not a chore, since I know for a fact that you don't help your mother every day make dinner for the lot of us." John says. Looking back over at you, and then at Oli. He speaks again this time to the entire family.

"The chore chart is getting a massive overhaul. No more of this shit where Oliver is the only one doing all the chores. I don't wanna lip from any of you about this change. I'll have a new chore chart written by the weekend. From now on though Jack and Ivy you're on dish duty tonight." Theres a pause, but then with a stern and finally look Jack and Ivy are walking towards the dining room grabbing everything up to be washed in the kitchen.

"Oliver I really would have rather you told me or your mother what was going on instead of disrespecting your mother like that.""Now hold on John. He did come to me." His head turns so quickly. "I thought… well I say something on that social media app TikTok and thought that the two of us could get a laugh out of pranking you, but I always wanted to show you something that I fear might have been going on for a little to long John." You say. "So then you didn't mean to be nasty to your mum Oliver?" John asks, Oliver shakes his head "No I just was just tired of being the only one doing chores when Jack and Ivy get to have all the fun." Oliver says sweetly.

A deep sigh leaves Johns lips. He reaches out and grabs Olivers hand, "How about you come with me, and we can watch TV for the rest of the night." he offers, "but it's a school night?" Oliver counters, "How about we don't worry about that right now, how about tomorrow we take you somewhere were you can have some fun?" He asks Oliver. There's a light that beams from behind Olivers blues eyes and nods his head following his father into the living room.

Soap (Johnny McTavish)

Lucy your three year old daughter has the sass of you and the stubbornness of her father Johnny. Is supposed to be getting ready for bed, or be in bed by now. The clock reads 8pm at least good thirty minutes past her normal bed. But her pj's are on she's been read her nightly bedtime story by Johnny. Her night light lighting up the room with an ambient glow.

The tv is at a low volume, just enough that you can hear the words but not enough that if something loud happens it will wake Lucy. Except Lucy is currently standing at the edge of the couch her blanket and stuffed animal in her arms. "I can't go to sleep dada." She prays at her fathers heartstrings.

Giving him large glossy eyes. "Okay baby, lets go back to your bed." That was attempt one, Johnny had tucked her in so tightly that she must be able to fall asleep now. That was attempt one, the second time she came out of her room her hair was a bit more messed up. As if she had been tossing and turning. The netflix show that played on tv got paused for the second time. Some murder tv show that you had been waiting all day to watch with Johnny. "Mummy, back spider?" She asks.

She loves your long nails that Johnny pays to get re-done every single two weeks. Likes when you whisper to her and drag your longs nails up her back. You follow her to her room her hand interlock in yours. You sit on the edge of the bed, while Lucy falls straight on her face, her back exposed to you.

"X marks the spot. Dot, dash, dot, dash, question mark. spiders crawling up your back, spiders crawling down your back. Cool breeze, tight squeeze now you've got the chills." You says as your fingers move along her back. Her breathing as gone steady. You wait a few more minutes drawing a few extra circles and hearts into her back before returning to your husband in the living room.

But apparently third times is the charm. When she comes waddling back out only a few minutes later. "Lucy you need to go to bed now sweetie." Johnny says staring at his sleepy daughter. "I don't wanna!" She shrieks. The clock reads almost 830pm. And this yelling and shouting will only last so long before she ends up tiring herself out. "Hey don't go shoutin' now." Johnny mutters as he gets up to take her back to her room.

The grippy bottoms of her onesies allows her to grip the floor and run out of her reach of your husband long arms. "Lucy, you need to go to bed we have special things we are doing tomorrow baby girl." Your husband tries. But Lucy shakes her head not agreeing with anything. "Baby you gotta go to bed." "I DON'T WANNA." She says turning her head with every word. Johnny can't help but look over at you. "She's got all your sass lovie." You shake your head, "But all of your stubbornness." You throw back. He groans as he picks up Lucy. "How about we just stay here on the couch." He offers. Lucy hums in Johnnys arms and snuggles into her chest. Her snores fill the room and the tv show turns back on at least until you look over at Johnny and say. "I hope you know she was out when I gave her those back scratches, but she wanted to play a prank on you, so this was it." Sleep invades your words, but Johnny doesn't really seem to care about his daughters silly little outburst, or how it relates to her and you wanting to prank him.

"That's okay lovie, just watch your tv show." He says combing his fingers through Lucys hair. The next time he looks over at the end of another episode, not only is Lucy asleep, but so are you. Cuddled into his other arm. Blanket thrown over your legs. He'll stay right there until he either get's kicked in the face by his daughter moving in her sleep so much, or when he wakes up to pain in the bottom on his neck.

[phoenixblaze1412]

HEYY HOW ARE YOU?!! HOPE UR DOING GREAT PHOENIX x33

I was thinking about assistant reader with dyscalculia lately and I can't seem to get it out of my mind so I was hoping you'd write one with dottore?(it would be funnier with webttore imo) like imagine them going out together but they get lost cuz reader have a bad sense of direction or messing up a task cuz they're bad with numbers and stuff? IDK U CAN MAKE ANY SCENARIO U WANT HKHKJJJGK (if u don't feel comfortable with this u can ignore it )

HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

Very well, anon!

Webttore will be referred to as Theta in this request.

The crisp evening air was pleasant as you and Theta walked through the streets of Snezhnaya, the cold barely a concern with how well-dressed you were. Despite the beauty of the frost-covered city, your mind was more occupied with trying to remember exactly where you were supposed to be going.

Theta, ever the arrogant and self-assured segment, strolled confidently beside you, his usual smirk tugging at his lips. "You do remember the way back, don’t you?" he teased, glancing down at you.

You hesitated, looking around at the nearly identical buildings, the icy streets stretching in multiple directions. "Uhm… yes?"

His red eyes gleamed with amusement. "That’s not very convincing."

You pouted. "I swear it was this way," you insisted, pointing down a street that—unbeknownst to you—led further away from your intended destination.

Theta hummed thoughtfully, taking in your slight frown and the way your fingers twitched with nervousness. He had long since learned of your struggles with numbers, directions, and keeping track of precise measurements. It amused him, sure, but only in the way one might find a clumsy kitten adorable—never in a cruel way. You were his assistant, his partner, and he was the only one allowed to tease you.

"Very well, lead the way, dearest assistant," he said with a dramatic bow, gesturing for you to take the lead.

Encouraged by his trust, you nodded determinedly and took a step forward. Then another. Then another.

Ten minutes later, you were both standing in front of a wall that definitely had not been there before.

You turned slowly to face Theta, your expression sheepish. "Okay… maybe I don’t know where we are."

Theta sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose before shaking his head with a chuckle. "You’re hopeless."

"I’m really not!" you protested, puffing your cheeks out. "It’s not my fault the streets all look the same."

He reached out and flicked your forehead lightly. "It absolutely is your fault. But lucky for you, you have me."

Before you could question him, Theta took your hand in his, his grip firm yet not unpleasant. He led you back through the winding streets with ease, his sense of direction perfect, as expected.

The warmth of his hand contrasted the icy air, and you found yourself comforted by the simplicity of it—by the way he always guided you without making you feel lesser.

As you walked, Theta slowed his pace. "Do you remember what I said about navigating these streets?"

You blinked. "Uh… something about remembering landmarks?"

"Precisely. Look ahead—see that odd, half-crumbling statue? That’s how you know we’re near the bakery. And the bakery is two streets down from the estate." He glanced at you, squeezing your hand just a bit. "You’ll learn in time."

A smile found its way onto your lips. "You really think so?"

Theta huffed. "I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it." Then, with a teasing smirk, he added, "Though I do find it rather endearing when you get us lost. It gives me an excuse to keep you close."

Your cheeks warmed despite the cold. "You could just hold my hand without an excuse, you know."

Theta paused, then smirked. "Oh? My, my, how bold."

You groaned. "Forget it."

"Never," he purred, pulling you just a little closer as he led you back home.

—

Back at the lab, Theta observed you with an amused gaze as you furrowed your brows over the notes he had handed you. The formulas and numbers blurred together, and you gripped the pen tightly, willing your brain to make sense of it all.

Theta leaned against the table, watching you struggle. "You’re pouting again."

"I’m concentrating," you muttered.

"It’s adorable," he mused.

You shot him a glare. "Not helping."

Theta smirked but softened as he tapped the paper lightly. "You’re overthinking it. Focus on the patterns instead of the raw numbers. See here? This part mirrors the first equation. If you match them, it simplifies the process."

You stared at it, then at him, then back at the paper. Slowly, you began to see what he meant. "Oh… that actually makes sense."

"Of course it does. I explained it, after all." He tilted your chin up so you met his gaze. "You may struggle with numbers, but you are far from incapable."

You felt your chest tighten—not with anxiety, but with warmth. "…Thanks, Theta."

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Don’t thank me yet. You still have a dozen more to solve."

You groaned. "You’re evil."

"And you’re mine," he murmured, smug and affectionate all at once. And as frustrating as he could be, you wouldn’t have it any other way.