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alastorthirsty · 3 days ago

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Hooray For Makeup Sex! - Alastor x f! fallen angel!reader

Request: Hi! I recently read one of your alastor pieces & ohhhh my god! It was amazing. I was wondering if you would do something alastor x f!reader where they have an argument, add some angst, some fluff, some heavy heavy smut? Almost like alastor begging for reader & wanting to do anything for her to forgive him ?? Just a little idea. :) thank you so much for your wonderful work!’

Hey nonnie! I’m absolutely thrilled to fulfill your request. I hope this hits the mark! Let me know if it does! 😘

Word count: 6678

Warnings: established relationship, breakup, angst, fluff, Alastor is a very jealous and possessive but also in love man, thigh riding, (angelic) bloodplay, vaginal intercourse

Please like, comment, and reblog to sustain me! Let me know if you'd like to be on my tag list and remember that requests are open!

‘Sorry’ is not a word in Alastor’s lexicon. He stares at the heatless green fire in front of him, whiskey in one hand, the other tapping against the arm of his chair.

That was Charlie’s unsolicited advice, a rehash of old material. It starts with sorry, Al.

Well, he stubbornly doesn’t believe he’s in the wrong to begin with, so why should he go and grovel at your fucking feet?

‘Sorry’ is not a word in Alastor’s lexicon, and that’s that.

He throws the whiskey across the room suddenly, with such force that the crystal crashes into the opposite wall, forcing him to look at it.

Oh, it’s luxurious. A four poster bed with a white linen canopy. A mattress that adjusts itself to your whims, night by night. Silken sheets in the exact shade of your favourite colour. All of it for your benefit and yours alone—for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t even sleep! He doesn’t need to sleep, he just needs…

Alastor stares at the bed, imagines how he’d sit next to you as you slumbered, glancing over at you occasionally for the sake of your comfort and security. He remembers how you’d snore lightly and how he would push hair out of your face as you snoozed. He remembers smiling…

He remembers smiling.

He also recalls other little activities the two of you got up to in this bed, satisfying a hunger he’d never known before you, but that isn’t something he craves anymore. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

‘Sorry’ isn’t a word in Alastor’s lexicon, even though… even though…

It needs to be.

He sits there thinking of everything from the beginning. The day you first met, all those mysterious luminous creatures floating along, moving your furniture past the lobby. Your soft and kind smile, the one that sickened him at first. That damnable dress you wore the first time the two of you hit the sheets, and how fun it was to rip it off your body. The way his shadow always tried to steal feathers from the wings of your shadow. The first time you yelled at him for that.

He thinks of where things went wrong, the man that caused that incredible din, but the only thing he can think of, if he is finally honest with himself, is himself. His own jealousy, his controlling nature, thinking he knew what was best for you. That was what sparked the argument, wasn’t it?

It his fault, certainly, but ‘sorry’ is not in Alastor’s lexicon, period.

The lilies are still on the bedside table. They are dried, desiccating, the little leaves and petals falling onto the surface. He had gotten the lilies to say ‘sorry’, in his own way, but you never did come back to his room.

He lays back on the bed and plucks a dying lily from the bouquet, keeping it in his hand. It's not difficult to imagine you there beside him, your arms wrapped around him as he presses his face against your shoulder, and oh, that’s when it really hits him.

Your scent. He remembers it so well that he smells it now, a phantom chased by nothing. His eyes close and he rolls until his head meets your pillow, breathing in your scent deeply.

‘Sorry’ is not in his lexicon, but goddamn it, there are lilies.

What would it take, what flowers would fix things, if lilies were not enough? Pink roses? White orchids? Tulips? A hundred dozen daffodils, flooding the entire hotel?

Alastor notices now how his hands are shaking at his sides. He clenches his claws into fists and closes his eyes, breathing in your scent again. The best thing to do is to incinerate the pillow, the bed, the lilies…

No, no. His jaw tightens. No, that would be the easy thing to do. Not the best, or even the smartest. It was the cowardly thing to do.

‘Sorry’ is not in Alastor’s lexicon, but he’s no fucking coward.

He can almost hear your voice in his ears, whispering his name with such sweet affection. He remembers your laugh, a sound like music to him. A laugh reserved for him and him alone. Something special.

He's never needed anyone else's company before. He never bothered with the emotional needs of other people. You’re the only person he's ever cared for, the only person who has ever truly meant anything to him. He feels weak and vulnerable over your absence. He doesn't like feeling like this, but you’re the one woman that can break down his walls.

Alastor doesn't like needing you, he doesn't like letting you have this power over him. But at this moment, he doesn't care. He'd give anything to just hear your voice again, even if it’s just to yell at him and tell him to fuck off.

Again.

The sound of your voice, the way you looked into his eyes, your little imperfections that only served to make you all the more perfect in his eyes. He remembers how your lips felt against his skin, the soft warmth of your touch.

He doesn’t like to need you, but he does love it.

He opens his eyes, clutching the now withered flower so tightly that all but a few brown petals fall from the stem. He stares at it for a long moment, trying not to let the memories overwhelm him. A green fire erupts from his palm, scorching it first, then turning it to ash. He stares at it, the lightness of it in his palm.

He's always had such strict control over himself, even under stress or grief, but not anymore. Not when it comes to you. You’ve always been able to cause feelings of weakness and helplessness within him. He hates himself for feeling this way, but at the same time, he can't bring himself to hate you. No, never you.

He closes his eyes again, imagining you lying beside him. You would have wrapped your arms around him and pressed your lips to the side of his neck. Sometimes, you’d start leaving the tiniest of kisses down his neck. It would make him shiver, it would make him…

Just like that first night when things turned physical. Your hands would always find a way under his shirt, running your fingers over the muscles of his chest and stomach, your fingers tracing reverently over his scars.

He can almost feel the softness of your skin, the warmth of your body.

Alastor sighs in consideration of his current position. One of, if not the most powerful Overlord of hell, lying in a bed he does not need, pining after a fallen angel who once (admittedly, accidentally) broke a horn off his shadow. He breathes in your scent again. A fallen angel who made his mama’s jambalaya for him. A fallen angel who was never once intimidated by him. A fallen angel who created life, “along a certain slant of light”, as you put it, most of them visible only to you, except for shimmers of light, like oil on water.

A fallen angel who wouldn’t speak to him even if he said sorry.

Alastor sighs, sits up, holding her pillow like a child holding a fucking teddy bear.

“Fuck.”

He smacks himself on the forehead and drags his hand down his face.

“Fuck.”

He says it again, getting a taste of the word, the pride of it in its coarse formation and meaning.

Alastor sighs, holding the pillow, looking at the bouquet of dead lilies. “Fuck.”

He wants to feel the softness of your lips again. To feel the warmth of your skin, the press of your body against his. But more than anything, he wants to hear you laugh again. He wants that beautiful smile back, the smile you give to him and only him.

But he doubts that will happen. You’ve probably already moved on from him, and honestly, he wouldn't blame you for doing so. Well, that’s a lie.

He knows he's difficult, and demanding—sometimes too demanding. You’ve always been far more patient with him than anyone else, but even that has its limits. And he's certainly pushed those limits.

You’re probably in the arms of some other man right now, maybe even him, laughing as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. You probably don’t even think about Alastor anymore.

‘Sorry’ may not be in his fucking lexicon, but like hell he’d ever allow another man into your bed, and certainly not…him.

Alastor makes sure he’s impeccable before riding the dark to your room. He decides it would be a rather stupid idea to appear inside your room without permission, so he settles on the hallway and knocks on your door.

“Come in!”

The sound is muffled, and he feels the sharp need to lecture you on not checking who is at the door before letting them in, but he refrains. He turns the doorknob and walks into your room for the first time in a while and finds you—

Down on the floor, halfway underneath the bed.

“This seems like a cliche pornographic film,” he comments as he shuts the door.

Herbert, the only one of the little light creatures that he can see, floats towards him.

You try to sit up right when you hear Alastor’s voice, banging your head. You get out from under the bed and stand up.

“Herbert, leave him alone,” you say.

“Nonsense! Hello little creature,” Alastor says to the glowing bastard he had tolerated at best before the breakup. He summons up an apple for the mischievous little son of a bitch to snack on and Herbert quickly zips away with it, disappearing under the bed.

“How did you know that being stuck is a porn cliche?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the bed, your arms crossed. “Been watching a lot of it lately?”

“I think you know that I have not,” Alastor says, leaning forward on his staff. “We just so happen to live with an adult film star who tries to pull the ‘help me I’m stuck’ routine on Husker at least twice per week. What were you doing under the bed, darling?”

“Herbert! He’s been stealing from me,” you say. “I knew I didn’t lose those emerald earrings you gave me. I found those and then some in his little nest under the bed.”

He can’t help but swell with pride. One of his favourite things to do was present you with gifts and he loved seeing them on you every time.

“What do you want?” you ask, and that deflates him a bit.

Alastor takes a breath, his chest rising. “I need you to instruct me in something.”

“Go ask literally anyone else.” You open up the door, gesturing for him to leave, but with a bit of boldness Alastor flicks the door closed again.

“I’m afraid there’s no one better to ask than you, my dear.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alastor, I broke up with you so I wouldn’t have to deal with things like this anymore.”

Alastor pauses for a time. Honesty tumbles its way past his lips. “You are all that I love.”

The room goes silent, save for the sound of Herbert cronching his apple.

You give a sigh, a pained expression on your face, one that he hates to see. All of him wants to go to you, but you wouldn’t want that—not yet.

“Goddamn it,” you whisper. “Is that what you needed instruction for?”

“No,” he says immediately. “No, loving you needs no instruction.”

You let out a breath. That’s all you can do before your head is in your hands.

“My dear, may I sit beside you?” Alastor asks after a moment’s silence.

“Oh, fuck you!” You stand up and circle around him once. “Fuck you, Alastor!”

His eyebrows rise. “That is not the response that I anticipated or desired.”

“Oh it’s not?” you ask mockingly.

He’s never seen you act like this before, and it is surprising him. An unseen variable, one that choked him. His grip on his staff increases.

“My dear, I sense that you still harbour quite a lot of animus—“

“Shut up! Shut up!” You pace back and forth the length of the rug, also a gift from him. “Fuck you! Fuck you for saying the right things the wrong time!”

Alastor takes a chance and sits down on your bed, watching you closely. “Do you want more earrings?”

You immediately go to your armoire and start throwing jewellery at him. He’s quite literally stunned by this behaviour. Herbert comes out from underneath the bed and snipes a few rings.

“Darling.”

You say nothing, you just keep throwing things at him.

“Darling.”

“Just take it. Take it all back. Give it to someone else.”

Now he looks offended and straightens his posture. You run out of jewellery to throw at him.

“You know there can be no other,” he says, somewhat angry. “You know I’m not capable of having any such enjoyment with anyone else. You are all I love and all that I desire to love. All I can love. There’s none but you and nothing will ever compare, never come close. Do you understand?”

“Then keep them for yourself. Or let Herbert have it all, enable his fucking kleptomania.”

“They belong to you and you will have them. Every last jewel.”

“Alastor, you shouldn’t be here,” you say.

“That is a consideration I undertook before coming.” He leaves his staff on the bed and goes to you. “I need your instruction.”

“On what?” you snap.

He lets out a deep breath. “How many lilies will it take to be forgiven?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Forget the lilies then,” he says quickly. “Just disregard the matter of florals altogether. What token is needed?”

“Token?”

“It doesn’t need to be a physical object, not a coin one inserts into a slot in exchange for heroin or soda,” he says quickly. “I am explaining myself poorly. I’ll be truthful and direct, if you will allow me.”

Your arms cross again, a defensive posture. “Okay.”

“I need you. I don’t know how to be without you anymore. It’s maddening. I find myself missing you in all these vacant spaces that were not vacant before you. You created space in me that only you can fill, and now it is…empty. You made me this way, and it is your fault,” he says quickly. “And what am I to do, now? Accept that I am now empty? Accept that I will walk through eternity alone, with all this space within me, space that you and you alone can occupy?”

“And you hate it, don’t you Alastor? And you hate me for it.”

“I considered that,” he admits. “I tried to insist it to myself, that I did not need such adulations and that I didn’t need you, specifically. I tried not to need you, but your absence insisted upon you. I do not hate you. Nothing could force me to feel that way, not myself, not you, not Herbert.”

“Herbert?”

“Correct. Herbert.”

You sit down beside his staff, touch the microphone knowing you were the only person ever allowed to do so. You sigh. “I love you, too. And just like you, I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I know exactly what to do with it,” he responds.

“Yeah?”

Alastor nods. “We just…go back to before. Move forward. But together. I would sooner die than see you with another man.”

You lift a warning finger to him. “You’re not helping yourself.”

Alastor huffs. “It is the truth. You value honesty as well as I do.”

Now you scoff. “You deal in subterfuge, not honesty.”

“Not with you, and you know that,” he says, pointing at you. “I am a flawed man, but I’ve given you my very best. Better than I thought I had capacity for. Can you truly say that it was never enough?”

“Of course it was,” you say softly.

Alastor sighs and sits beside you. He thinks to put an arm around you, but manages not to.

“You are so used to getting everything you want,” you say. “You have the power to get whatever you want except me.”

He winces. “Please do not put it that way, darling. Please don’t say…we’ll never find a way. Please.”

Slowly, you reach over and touch his hand. When it curls together with his fingers, he places his other hand firmly on top, squeezing.

“Four hundred.”

He waits for you to explain, but you don’t.

“Four hundred what, dearest?” he asks.

You look at him and smile. “Four hundred lilies.”

Alastor snaps his fingers and four hundred lilies arrange themselves in vases on top of every surface in the room. Smelling them, Herbert whooshed out from underneath the bed and floated all along the flowers, playing with the tiny white bells in a way that Alastor could admit might be considered ‘cute’ by others. He looks back to you.

“Do you want to count them all, darling?” he asks.

“I don’t need to,” you say softly. “I feel like I should tell you something.”

“I do not like that,” Alastor says immediately. “I do not like the sound of that. Is it him?”

“Don’t bring this full circle to the last argument,” you warn. “There is no other man. I just thought…you really came in here and said things that I didn’t think you could. You really laid it all on the line and I feel like you deserve the same from me.”

Alastor nods along slowly. “No other man?”

You shake your head. “No other men. Will you stop? Will you please stop? Will you let me talk now?”

“I suppose,” he says, pulling you closer. He settles so that his head rests against your chest. “I am listening.”

“It’s not exactly easy for me to open up either,” you say before clearing your throat. “There’s a wealth of differences between us but similarities that are significant. We both struggle with making space for other people in our lives and typically won’t.”

“That is true,” he says, fingers running along your shoulder.

You start to play with his hair, the fuck-ass bob you only came to love because it was his preference. You’re tempted to touch one of his ears, but now’s not the time for that.

“Sometimes it’s simply hard to believe that there’s this perfect person that really…loves me,” you say softly, quietly, almost wishing that you hadn’t.

Alastor tightens his hold on you. Neither of you could handle personal vulnerability quite so easily, but yours makes his heart clench. “Do I make you feel…less loved when we argue over other men?”

You sigh. “Alastor, it’s not just an argument about men, it’s you basically calling me a whore—“

“No, I didn’t,” he interjects quickly. “No. I have never called you that or thought it of you. You are my favourite, my treasure, my prize, and I would never think so lowly of you. Never, not in all of eternity until what you call ‘the inevitable heat-death of the universe’. I would argue that heaven and hell are a different universe but that is yet another argument we should never cross again.”

“Agreed,” you say, nodding your head. “Just like the argument about—“

“Horses running on their fingers, I know.” Alastor can’t help the fondness in his smile. No matter how heated the arguments, the passion between the two of you manifests itself in all ways possible.

You smile back at him and decide to take the chance to kiss him again. Just once. Just to show him he was still loved, cherished, longed for. It was only right.

Alastor cups the back of your head to keep you there. Fuck once, now that he’s gotten to kiss you he chooses to interpret it as carte blanche to take as many as he wants. Damn, how he had missed this…

You gently remove his hand and pull away. “I’m not done speaking.”

“Apologies,” he mutters.

You nod and continue. “I want to be the one you love. I want to be the only one you love, just as much as you want to be the only one that I love. You just can’t treat me like a soul that you own.”

Alastor’s eyes widen at that. Had he really…?

He looks you dead in the eye. “If I ever do that again, correct me with a good slap.”

You shake your head. “No. I won’t lay my hands on you with anything but affection and…shall we say, intimacy.”

“Intimacy,” he repeats, and almost moans then and there. It has been…too long.

“I know,” you say. “I know.”

“Will you ever be…comfortable with the idea of it again?” Alastor asks.

“I’ve practically undressed you with my eyes since you came in here.”

He goes to make a move but you rebuff him once more, sitting up in the bed. “The fact remains that I am hurt by you when you start questioning me about the attentions of other men, attentions that I do not notice more often than not, if they exist at all. Especially not from him. I keep telling you, he does not look at me that way, he doesn’t think of me that way.”

He nods several times in thought before sitting up beside you, turning to face you. “I am afraid.”

Your eyes widen. You’ve seen him express all sorts of emotions in front of you before but never, not once, had even alluded to fear.

“W-why?” you ask with a bare whisper.

“I’m not a good man, and you know that. You know what I do almost better than anyone else. You are too good for me, therefore I fear another man will come along, catch your fancy, and leave me with the choice of either killing him and devastating you or simply languishing in my own self-pity. Why are you so far?”

(Obviously he would kill the other man.)

Alastor drags you into his lap and you give no resistance. He holds you tight, intending to never let go, not now when there was a chance.

You lay your head on his shoulder and breathe him in. You’ve missed his scent, too.

“I’m not too good for you,” you mutter against his neck. “And I won’t hear of it. Understood?”

He smiles begrudgingly. “Fine. You will have it as you wish, my dear.”

“So,” you say. “What now?”

“Move forward,” he says again. “Be with me again. Allow me to present you with jewels. I will…continue to put up with that little abomination eating the lilies.”

You gasp and look towards Herbert. You clap your hands together loudly. “Herbert! No! They might be poisonous to you, and besides, they’re mommy’s!”

Alastor can’t help himself but laugh. “Mommy’s, you say?”

“I made him, I’m mommy!”

Maybe…maybe it was possible. You’re not a sinner, after all, and Charlie does exist…

Maybe he can give you fawns, bond you to him for all eternity, heat-death of the universe be damned.

Alastor chuckles, lets that thought slide by (for now). He whisks the lilies away before the little bastard can make himself sick and throws another apple at him. Herbert gasps softly, takes it, and back under the bed he goes.

“See?” Alastor says. “I am suitable.”

You smile at him softly. “Promise?”

“Yes, dear. I do promise. There are many things I can’t. We will continue to argue over pointless things, that’s already in the cards. We will bump heads and piss each other off. I will be jealous, I will certainly be possessive, but I will never express it to you in a way that makes you feel like a harlot. And I will try not to over-analyse every interaction with him. Perhaps I will never express it at all, that would be best, I know…

“And I will fail. And you will, too. We will have our… fuck-ups, as you often call them. However, for all the fuck-ups we ever had before, not a moment passed when I did not know that I loved you. You created space in me, made my lungs full. I cannot be without you now, and I think you…I think that you are the same. I hope you are the same.” He pauses. “Please, darling.”

You kiss him, and in that he understands your acceptance of this. Of him, his words, the explicit and implicit promises. Words were difficult sometimes.

He grabs you tightly and rides the dark to his bedroom, to the bed he made for you.

You break the kiss with an air of incredulity. “You know I hate when you shadow whoosh me!”

“And you know I have exactly one rule about where we are intimate.”

You sigh. “Not above Herbert’s nest.”

“Indeed. Not above Herbert’s nest.”

“And who said anything about being intimate?” you ask, a hint of mischief in your eyes.

He smirks. “There she is.”

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” you say.

He grins, his eyes burning with a dark, sinful desire as he responds huskily, his lips against your ear. “Ah, my love, I want to do everything to you. I want to touch you, taste you, explore every inch of you until nothing exists to either of us except each other. I want to hear you moan and gasp my name, to make you feel things you've never felt before.”

You give him a wicked smile. “We should do that.”

He grows in agreement, his eyes burning with need and desire as he responds in a low, guttural voice. “We absolutely should. We will. I’m going to explore every inch of you, to make you feel things you've only dreamed of. Are you ready for that, my love?

He pulls you so that your back is snug against his chest, not a bit of space between your bodies. His clawed fingertips run from your knee all the way to your hip. He can hear that little gasp you try to hide, can feel that little shiver. The hem of your dress hiked up, his hand moves to cup your mound. He smirks to himself when he feels you rub against it.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing against the shell of it. He rubs against your underwear for a few moments, allowing you to rock your hips against his hand, and oh, there it was again. Control. Control over you, the greatest prize of all, and you gave it to him so willingly.

His hand slides his hand inside your silken undergarments easily—ones that he bought for you. It’s gratifying as hell, almost as good as feeling your slick folds against his fingers. He blunts his fingertips and rubs against you.

Alastor’s teeth catch on your neck and he’s more than tempted to bite down, but not just yet. You moan and he relishes it.

“You like that?” he murmurs against your ear. “You love it, don’t you? Being a good girl for me.” Alastor uses his free arm to wrap around your hips to stop you from moving. “Now, be very good.”

You give a soft little whimper when he won’t let you move anymore, knowing you’re at his mercy when he’s in a mood like this. Fingers slide inside of you, his thumb rubbing over your clit.

“Be still, and be quiet,” he instructs, smiling against your ear.

He can sense the struggle almost as soon as he says it. That little tremble in your thighs. The hand that shoots up to cover your mouth.

“Oh, no dear,” Alastor says, pushing it away with his free hand. ”Don’t test me again. No cheating, no tricks. No magic, no power. Only me.”

Listening to you trying to contain all your little sounds is priceless. Alastor knows how to play your body like a Stradivarius. His fingers move lower, deeper.

“Who makes you feel like this?” he asks, sucking a dark mark against your neck.

You’re not sure if it’s a trick or not until his little ministrations pause, causing you to whimper again. “You!”

“Atta girl,” he says affectionately. “You’re so wet for me.”

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin, his chin rubbing against your neck as he kisses and teases you. "My love, I can feel. You like it, don't you? You like how I can make you fall apart in my hands, helpless to my touch."

He bites your neck softly, his teeth scraping against your skin.

You take a few shaky breaths. “Am I allowed to speak now?”

Alastor pauses, as if deliberating, and the lack of movement in his fingers is excruciating. Your pussy throbs at the loss, clenching around them, and you’re near the point of begging.

“No,” he says momentarily. “No, you are not allowed to speak yet. Good of you to ask, darling, but now is the time for you to listen, not to speak. Now, stand up.”

Confused, you manage to get up from his lap and stand one rubbery legs before him. Your eyes give the inquiry your lips cannot.

Alastor parts his knees wide and pulls you to straddle one of his thighs.

Oh!

Your cheeks warm and your jaw opens slightly. You almost shake your head, but Alastor reaches for your chin and holds it between his fingers. With his other hand, he grabs one of your hips and forces you to start moving, the grind against your wet, clothed pussy causing you to gasp.

“I’ve missed you in more ways than one,” he says, slapping you on the ass to encourage to ride his thigh on your own.

“It was my own fault, I know that,” he continues, and places both hands on your hips to support you as you move. “I was insane with jealousy, yes, and that is also my own fault. I cannot tolerate the mere notion that someone else would get to see you…like this. You are so very beautiful, darling. You are so very, very much mine.”

He could never let anyone else have you. He knew that he never would. Surprisingly, his possessive words seem to make you grind harder against him, your hips working more quickly. Alastor welcomes this with a grin.

“Ah, my dear.” His hands move from your waist to your ass, squeezing, making you moan for him again. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let you fall. Come for me.”

Still unsure if you’re allowed to make any sound, you bite down on your lip hard, your eyes on his when a little golden rivulet drips from your poor, abused lip.

With a growl, Alastor lunges at you, though you are still in his lap. You fall down to the rug and he’s on top of you, licking up every trace of golden blood. Nothing could ever compare to it, he’d once said, and it turns him feral every single time he sees it or smells it. He kisses you, gently sucking at that tiny wound until it closes way too soon and his fist pounds the floor in anger. He raises his head, looks at you, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay, okay, but in bed,” you say.

Alastor picks you up quickly and tosses you onto it. He takes off his coat and throws it across the room. His bow tie is next, but you hold your hands out.

“Wait!” You say, reaching for him. “The shirt is my job.”

He grunts in his feral state, but he allows it, and soon his shirt is off and on the floor, forgotten.

“Where?” he asks raggedly.

“Where do you want?” you ask with a shrug. “This is your thing, but I’m happy to oblige. A bit. Not enough to make me dizzy.”

Permission granted, Alastor falls on top of you and goes straight for the jugular, literally. Just some sharp teeth and bam. He was drinking golden blood straight out of your neck, and you gave him the extra sensory delight of playing with his ears while he did so. He’s moaning, again and again, and you can feel how hard he is, pressed up against your body.

Eventually you decide he’s had enough and push his head away gently. Alastor kisses you instead, still giving animalistic energy, and rips away every article of clothing that separates you.

You can taste your own blood on his lips.

Somehow in this state Alastor remembers that he told you to come but didn’t let you and he quickly works to remedy that. His fingers enter you again. He knows your body well, he knows how to make you come in moments and you do, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Alastor finally leans back to look at the wreck he’s made of you and he smirks.

He holds one of your thighs against his waist and enters you fast, all at once, and the pace he sets is equally feral. Any time your blood came into the mix he truly could not help himself. His strokes are hard, deep, enough to make your knees wobble.

You hear him take a deep inhale and look up at him.

“My darling, the way you react to me, the way you react…Fit so perfectly, like your cunt was made just for my use.” Alastor bites at your neck again, but he won’t try to draw blood.

You grab one of the pillows and put it underneath your hips. This was an especially careful operation, considering how he was pounding you, but it tilted your hips and allowed for a more delicious angle.

Alastor’s clawed hand grabs your other thigh and squeezes hard. “What do you think, darling? Do you think this pretty little pussy was made for me?”

You nod several times, finding it harder and harder to catch your breath, but he’s without mercy this time. “Jesus…”

“Not an acceptable response, dearest,” he says with a little groan of exertion. He squeezes your thigh again. “Now, I believe I asked you a question. There’s only one correct answer, so give it to me.”

The sheets twist beneath your hands. There’s a decision to be made. Be forthwith and tell him yes or tease him until he’s out of his right mind.

“Damn it, darling,” he says impatiently.

You smirk. Let the teasing begin. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Alastor’s claws on your thigh almost drew more golden blood.

“You asked if my pussy was made just for you,” you say, your words coming out through pants because of his force.

His antlers grew larger, longer. His glare was menacing. His voice was dark.

“Then I suppose I must show you.”

The bed began to shake, and his tone shifted.

“Ah, my sweet darling, what I want to do to you right now is beyond description. I want to feel your softness, your warmth, your very essence against me, writhing under my touch. I want to take you, claim you, make you mine completely, with no doubting.”

“And how will you do that?” you ask playfully.

His hands grip you tighter, pulling you completely against him. He leans in, his lips trailing along your neck, his voice a low, dark growl in your ear.

“How will I do that, my sweet darling? I'm going to make you feel so good, make you scream from the pleasure of it. I'm going to kiss you, and touch you, and taste you, until you're so lost in pleasure you don't remember your own name or where you are.”

Your breath comes more and more harshly. “Did you soundproof the room?”

He gives you a look of pure incredulity. “Of course the room is soundproof! These precious little moans and gasps, they’re all mine, understand? Only I get to hear them, they belong to me!”

“Yes, yes!” You gulp for air.

“You do things to me, darling,” he says, “things that drive me absolutely wild. Your touch, your scent, your responsiveness, it all makes me ache and desperate for you. And you know it, don’t you?”

“I do my best.” You wink up at him. “Out of curiosity…what do I smell like?”

Alastor growls. “Ah, darling, you smell simply divine. I can't get enough of your soft, sweet scent. You smell like honey, like flowers, like the fresh air of a sunny day. It's intoxicating and completely addictive. I can't get enough of it, and I can't get enough of you. There will never be enough.”

“Keep me,” you whisper.

“Oh, darling,” he says. “Let there be no doubt in that. Yes, you're all mine. Mine to touch, mine to kiss, mine to have. I'm going to make sure you never forget that, darling. You're mine. Do you understand that?”

His hand comes up to gently squeeze at your throat, a warning.

You swallow, knowing he could feel every movement, and nod. “Yes, Alastor! Yes!”

His grip on your throat softens somewhat. “You just love to be under my control, don’t you?”

“I love being at your mercy,” you say with a moan.

“Is that so?” There’s a grin on his face that presses against his voice, dark and velvet. “And why is that? Tell me.”

Your eyes flutter closed. “Because I’m the only one safe at your mercy.”

“You’re right about that,” he says, pushing your thigh higher against your chest. “Look at you. Hair all mussed, lip swollen, bruises on your throat. And I did all of it. Tell me, darling. Tell me.”

“You did it. You did all of this to me, you’re the only one I want…”

That was what he truly wanted to hear, you knew. His jealousy is a problem and in all likelihood will continue to manifest itself, but at the root of it he just wanted to be the only one you had an appetite for. He fucks you harder and harder until you start screaming for him.

“Yes, yes,” he says, rubbing at your clit now. “Go on, make all of those beautiful, lascivious noises for me…”

You huff and gasp for breath. “Alastor, please, please let me come!”

He chuckles. “Yes, darling. That is the goal.”

When it hits you, you gasp first. Your hips grind against his, moving through it, along it, until it’s just too much—

But Alastor doesn’t stop. He holds you down, fucks you harder, draws it out for as long as he can. He smirks down at you as you shake for what he is doing to you—for you. His thumb circles your clit one last time before he’s finally merciful.

“So tight for me, darling,” he says, sucking the words between his teeth. It’s almost more than he can take, and he knows that it’s coming fast. He just…he needs something first.

He speaks in a gentler tone now, watching the bulge in your stomach move as he fucks you. “Darling…"

You’re still gasping for breath. “Yeah, honey? What is it?”

“Promise me that I’m…enough.”

“Enough?” You laugh, a raspy sound. “You’re too fucking much.”

Alastor lets out a gravelly moan, its intensity changing the pitch. You could almost swear that you can feel his cum inside you, all white and hot. When he finally stops moving, he leans against your thigh, chasing his breath.

“Bravo,” you say, putting your arms around him when he lays down beside you.

"I thought perhaps I had pleased you," he says, shuddering when you rub the base of his ears.

You laugh softly, breath finally caught. "Reconciled?"

Alastor nods. "Indeed. We are reconciled. If...you'll have me, anyway."

"I think that I will," you say, and from the corner of your eye, you see something on the wall and sit straight up, pointing. "That son of a bitch shadow of yours is stealing my feathers again!"

The smiling spectre flaunts his new feather and cuddles closer to your shadow. Maybe they were reconciled, as well.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you smut #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel Alastor #the radio demon #alastor smut #alastor #hazbin alastor smut #alastor imagines

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tomboy014 · 3 days ago

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But if Batman won't adopt Danny... who will?

Starfire, and she is all over her new little brother!

Shortly after establishing the Teen Titans, Robin (Dick) introduces “Phantom” to the group, because seriously, he’s not introducing him as “Danny.” Kinda defeats the purpose of a secret identity when you use your name in your superhero moniker. And shows Phantom his room.

Robin’s actual goal is to get Phantom to join the Titans, but even taking short cuts through the Ghost Zone, Jump City is still a good ways away from Amity Park, and he has parents, so… It’s still a nice gesture and all, and Phantom will come visit, but no.

Still, he’s never met other teens who are heroes in their own right like he is, so he’s excited to meet Robin’s new team. The other Titans think it’s a little weird for this not-member to have his own room in the Tower, but the place is huge, and Robin trusts him, so it’s fine. It’s a bit awkward at first as they’re all still getting used to each other, but Phantom quickly makes friends with all of them.

But it’s his friendship with Starfire that grows first and fastest. As soon as he finds out she’s an alien from another planet, he latches on and must know everything. Starfire more than welcomes the attention. While she knows the Titans care for her, they’re not always… receptive to the traditions and customs of her culture. Phantom, on the other hand, is enraptured as she tells him about her culture, her holidays, the planets she’s been to, everything.

So she asks if he’d be interested in learning Tamaranean? Yes! 100%! Absolutely! Phantom picks up the language quickly and returns the favor by helping Starfire with her English. While the ability to absorb language through lips is handy, it’s by no means perfect, and Phantom helps her with things like contractions, slang, idioms, etc.

It also helps that after a couple sparring sessions with each other, Phantom and Starfire realize just how durable their partner is. For Starfire, the people and things on Earth can be so delicate. And for Phantom, if he doesn’t watch himself and hurts a human too badly, it’s just more justification to call him an “evil ghost” that should be ripped apart molecule by molecule. Both are thrilled to finally be able to fight all out again without worrying about the consequences if they lose. And Starfire also uses it to teach Phantom some Tamaranean martial arts for aerial combat so maybe he’ll stop crashing into so many walls.

But what really changes the relationship is the Body Swap incident (not to be confused with the Freaky Friday incident). Similar to what happened with the Puppet King in Switched, Phantom and Starfire switch bodies while fighting an enemy. Unlike what happened in Switched, Phantom and Starfire and two teen powerhouses with green energy powers triggered by emotions. And the emotional triggers they use are in the same ballpark. Starfire’s “unbridled joy of flight” to fly is very similar to how Phantom revels in the pure freedom of flight he feels. Both get angry when they use blasts. It’s very much a “if you believe in it, you can do it” kind of power set. Starfire can’t really figure out Phantom’s more ghostly abilities like invisibility or intangibility, but they very quickly adapt to each other’s shared powers on the fly during battle. But there’s one power Starfire wants to use against the hordes of minions that Phantom won’t share the trigger for: the Ghostly Wail. He tries to tell her it’s not a good move, that it’ll use up too much power, it should only be used as a last resort, it’ll cause too much collateral damage, etc., but Starfire wants to know, and eventually he tells her.

“T-terror… and desperation.”

Starfire rushes to give Phantom the biggest hug ever because those are such horrible feelings, and she doesn’t want to imagine what conditions must have led to him developing such a power because no one should have to feel such feelings. He is right; and that is not a power she needs to use to win this battle. The minions are defeated, the villain is forced into a temporary retreat, and the Teen Titans return to the Tower to regroup and plan.

However, Starfire doesn’t know how to power through and hold onto Phantom’s ghostly form, and as soon as the adrenaline from the fight wears off, rings of white light spread out of her middle, and Phantom turns back into Danny in the middle of the living room.

But more importantly, everyone needs to get out of the way RIGHT NOW because while Phantom can ignore his biological needs for days, Danny can’t, and Starfire has never had to pee this badly ever in her whole life and everyone needs to MOVE, PLEASE! as she rushes into the nearest bathroom.

Phantom/Danny is now panicking, because even as an alien, he’s pretty sure she’s bound to notice that some bits of male anatomy that should be there are… missing. He’s begging her, through the door in Tamaranean, not to tell anyone about his secret. He’s not ready to come out yet, and he’s honestly pretty scared he’s about to lose her friendship, too. Starfire doesn’t really care. So long as you’re a strong warrior, Tamaraneans don’t care what’s going on in someone’s pants, and she’s just relieved she didn’t have to figure out different plumbing while in his body. Starfire opens the door. While she knows that the people of Earth are not always as understanding, Danny need not fear her. She will not tell anyone he's trans until he is ready to tell them himself and supports him and goes in for a hug.

Except you haven’t washed your hands; gross! They both laugh it off, but when Starfire goes to wash her hands, the water freezes. The cold energy in Danny’s core is building, and Starfire doesn’t know how to let it out. They need to switch back to their own bodies soon, or Danny’s body, and Starfire, might not survive. A little more training so Starfire can turn back into Phantom, and the Titans are ready for the final act, take down the final villain and Starfire and Phantom are back in their own bodies.

But after that, Phantom is no longer Starfire’s friend. Danny is her little brother, and she tells him her name is Koriand’r, or Kor’i for short.

<<Prev

#dpxdc #arkham guard au #arkham guard backstory #trans!danny #danny phantom #starfire #this got long so I'll be splitting it into multiple parts #long post

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zyhkoo · 3 days ago

Text

🌼 daisy

fluff, f!civillian, pt 2 of this

( you are his only exception. )

Starting the next few days, there was.. a subtle shift in your relationship with Jason.

The small moments and gestures became more meaningful, a simple brush of hands or a glance held for too long. Jason knows he is absolutely doomed.

He would do things he would never do to his siblings. He would go out on cold nights to buy you the food you liked, just so he could see that little grateful smile on your face. He would let you convince him to try new films that he absolutely had no interest in, to see the way your eyes lit up as you talked about it.

One night, he went in your apartment window again. As he looked around and called your name, there was no answer. You were probably working late again he thought, so he shrugged and sat down on the couch.

His eyes flickered towards your door as he noticed the struggle of it fumbling to get open. He tensed immediately, his senses on high alert. Whoever was trying to open the door wasn't doing it quietly, that was for sure. He stood up, crossing the room quietly as he watched the door.

The struggle continued, the sound of the lock attempting to open echoed through the quiet apartment. Jason hovered just a few steps away from the door, his eyes darting from the doorknob to the small peep hole.

As the robber opened the door, he was met with a very menacing man with a red helmet. Jason didn't give the guy a chance to react. He lunged forward before the robber could even reach for his weapon, Jason had already disarmed him, pinning him against the wall.

The robber let out a cry of surprise and pain as Jason slammed him against the wall, his hands gripping tightly on the collar.

"You picked the wrong place, pal,"

The robber struggled against Jason's grip, his eyes wide and fearful as he found himself at the mercy of the Red Hood. "Please, man, I didn't—" he started to protest, but Jason cut him off with a harsh shove against the wall, shutting him up immediately.

"Shut up," Jason said, his voice hard. “Look, I will give you 30 seconds to get out of his apartment and if I still see you here you’re dead.”

The robber's eyes widened in terror as he trembled in fear. "Alright, alright! I'm going, man, I swear!" he stuttered out. Jason drops him on the ground as he watches the robber scurry away.

He looked to the side and realized you were there watching all along with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Good evening to you too.” you said.

"You're back," he said gruffly, his voice slightly quieter than usual. He took a step towards you, his eyes studying your expression.

“Did you really have to beat him up with your helmet on?”

"Yeah, I had to make sure he got the message," he replied, a bit amused. He approached you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You weren't supposed to see that."

He didn’t want you to see that ugly side of him— he was worried that you wouldn’t understand or if it would scare you away.

“I figured.” you replied “But, at least you kept my apartment safe.” you let out an amused huff as you walked to your door “You break into mine every night.”

"That's different," he rebutted. "I'm not a criminal, I'm just... checking up on you."

On a different night, he came in your window early again. He took a few steps into the room, his eyes scanning the surroundings. You were probably working late again, he thought.

Jason tensed slightly as he heard the door open, his instincts kicking in as he turned to see who was there. When he saw that it was you, he let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing fractionally. "You're back," he said.

You flashed him a warm smile “Hiii.” you chuckled. Jason saw as you stumbled a bit as you closed the door, he crossed the door towards you as he looked at you funny. “You good?”

“M’ kay.” you responded with a slur. Jason’s eyes narrowed as he picked up the slur in your voice, could you be drunk? His hand reached out to support you. "Are you drunk?" he asked as you hummed in response, “Mmmaybe.” you answered “I could be.”

Jason's eyes flicked over you, looking at your slightly dazed expression and your stumbling steps. He sighed, "You're definitely drunk," he grumbled, his hand still on your arm to steady you.

He gently guided you over to the couch, easing you down onto the cushions. "How much did you drink?" he asked, a bit annoyed. You extended out your arms, “This much..” he looks at you deadpanned, “Very precise.” he says dryly.

He ponders for a moment, should he take care of you? Or should he just put you to bed and leave? But then he looks at your dazed expression and thinks that you definitely need to be taken care of.

"What were you doing drinking so much?" he asked, his voice changing to a softer tone. You merely shrugged, “Co-workers invited me dunnoo..” he let out a small scoff, "You should know your limits.” he scolds.

You shrugged, “I drank a lot cause I know you’d take care of m’ anyway.” you said as you poked his shoulder. He exhaled slowly, trying to maintain his usual tough demeanor even though he was secretly touched by your trust. "Yeah, well, don't make a habit of it,"

Jason got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cupboards, looking for a glass. As he poured water in the cup, he carried the glass of water back to the living room, finding you seated on the couch with a vacant look on your face.

"Drink this," he opened your palm and placed the glass in your hand. But your grip was a bit loose so Jason grabbed the glass before it dropped.

Jason sighs as he holds the glass up your lips. His other hand was on your shoulder, steady and grounding. "Sip slowly," he instructed. He held the glass steady as you drank, watching intently to ensure you didn’t choke or spill.

Once you were done, he slowly lowered the glass, his hand still laying on your shoulder.

He took a moment to study your face, checking to see if you were any less dazed than before. Your eyes were still slightly glassy, your movements a bit clumsy. You were still definitely drunk. He let out another sigh, his hand still on your shoulder. “You’re a mess,” you smiled, “Your mess.” you retorted.

Jason's eyes widened fractionally at your response, heat creeping up his neck. "You're not making this any easier," he grumbled. How are you not throwing up yet?

You took his face in your hands, “You’re a pretty handsome fella.” he swallowed, his voice gruff yet soft, "And you're very drunk, sweetheart."

“Mmm, you knoww.. I changed my favorite color into red for ya.” you said as you started to ramble. Jason raised an eyebrow, "Red?”

“Yah, cause ‘Red’ Hood.” What a weirdo.

A huff escaped from Jason's lips. "Is that so?" he asked, "You changed your favorite color to red because of me?"

“Uhuh.” you nodded. "That's…” he started, “That's sweet.” he simply responded. You frowned, “You sound unsure.”

Jason's expression falters. He didn't want you to think he wasn't sincerely pleased. "No, I am," he hastened to reassure you. He reached up, his hand gently cupping the one you had on his cheek. “I’m just surprised, that's all.”

You started to smile again, “Really?” your smile was infectious— even in your drunk state. “Really,” He nodded, Jason thought it was funny how you could barely hold a glass of water yet you could firmly hold his face.

“You got a strong grip, for someone so drunk,” he commented. “Cause if I let go… you might leave for t’ night.” you slurred. Jason's chest tightened at your words. He looked at you, his expression softening.

Well, of course he needed to leave every night. What if someone tracked him and it led to your place? Or who knows whatever people would break in and take you as a hostage.

He shook his head slightly. He had no intention of leaving, not in your current state. “Not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he reassured, “I’ll stay.” your eyes bore into his, “You leave every night, I don’t like it.”

You were right, he did leave every night. It was a habit he had gotten used to. He sighed, “I’ll stay tonight, I promise.” He knew that he couldn’t tell you the reason why he had to leave each night. It was too dangerous, too risky. He had to maintain his cover, both for his and your safety.

But for now, he wanted to give you a little peace of mind.

“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he repeated, “I’ll stay here with you.”

“Promise?” you said softly. He met your gaze, his eyes steady and sincere. He couldn’t look away, not when you were looking at him like that. “Promise,” he affirmed back.

You smiled as you closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his. He tried to keep his cool, but your actions were affecting him more than he cared to admit. “I wanted t’ ask ya that for a while…” you confessed, “But m’ knew you’d say no.” you added as you slightly opened your eyes.

He couldn’t deny that you were right. He would have said no. He would have rejected you, made up some excuse. It was safer for both of you that way, or so he had convinced himself.

“I wanna cook ya food, patch up your wounds or.. or.. anything to make you stay.” you closed your eyes firmly, trying not to get your emotions ahead of you.

Jason could hear the longing in your voice and he felt the desperation as your hands shaked on his face. It was more than just wanting him to stay, it was begging him on some level.

But as he looked at you, your face pressed against his, your eyes tightly shut as if holding back more than just tears, he couldn't do it. “Look at me,” he requested.

The moment your eyes met his, Jason felt an odd tug at his heart. “What do you want, sweetheart?” your voice was shaky, “I—I want us.”

Looking at you, seeing the look in your eyes, he knew it was too late. His heart was already in your hands. “Okay,” he said, his voice a soft whisper, “Okay.” you looked at him confused, “Okay?”

"Yeah," he affirmed, "Okay as in... I want us too."

“You’re not agreein’ cause m’ drunk are ya?” you weren’t sure if he was just humoring you. He shook his head slightly, his gaze steady on yours. "No, sweetheart. I'm not just saying it because you're drunk. I mean it."

He took the hands holding his face and placed it in his heart. He looked at you, “Can you feel that?” he asked, “That’s me. That’s my heart. It’s all yours.” as you felt the hard thumps on his chest your cheeks flushed.

“You get embarrassed too easily,” he playfully scoffs, “Just from touching my chest?”

“M’ not embarrassed..” you protested. “Sure.”

“Come on,” he pats your shoulder. “Let’s get you to bed.” He extracted your hands from his chest and rose to his feet. “Can you stand?” he asked, “Dunno..” you responded.

Jason sighed as he picked you up the couch, “Which room is yours?” he asked, looking down at you in his arms, “That one.” you pointed.

He pushed the door open with his bicep, and walked over to the bed and gently laid you down on the soft mattress. Once you were settled on the bed, Jason took a moment to remove your shoes, setting them down neatly on the floor.

Next, he took off your jacket, his fingers gently pulled the fabric and placed it on a chair beside the bed.

As he was about to pull the covers on you, you gripped his hand. “You said ya would stay tonight.” you reminded him. He sighed softly, “I said I would, didn’t I?” he reminded himself, “Right, scoot over.”

Jason settled himself on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he got comfortable. From the corner of his eye, Jason could feel your gaze on him. He could practically hear the thoughts in your head, the questions you wanted to ask.

He didn’t look at you, simply laying there, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “What?” he asked, you didn’t answer instead you held his arm— quietly seeking for his touch.

He turned onto his side, facing you. Then he gently moved his arm, pulling you to him. He wrapped his arm around you, letting you rest your head against his chest. He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back attempting to make you fall asleep.

In the morning, you felt an annoying ache in your head. Your throat was dry and your body felt sore, as you sat up you noticed a hand pressing your waist down.

Baffled, you looked to the side and saw Jason sleeping in your bed.

“….?”

Your mind struggled to process the situation, your thoughts a muddled mess. You must still be dreaming, or perhaps you were still drunk—there was no way Jason was actually in bed with you.

Yet, as you stared at him, the reality of the situation became more and more clear. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his face relaxed in sleep. This was real. You were a bit frustrated, rubbing your head as you tried to remember everything.

Jason’s eyes slowly opened as he felt you stirring next to him.

He lifted his head to look at you, seeing the confusion and frustration on your face. “Mornin’,” he yawned. “J—Jason.” you called his name, “If I did something stupid. I’m sorry.” you nervously chuckled, feeling a bit of guilt.

He looks at you for a moment, "You don't remember anything from last night, do you?" he asked. “..No, was it bad?” you asked. "Depends on your definition of bad," he responds.

He sat up in the bed, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked at you. "You were pretty drunk last night," he reminded you. “Oh, god. What did I do?”

He reached out and gently pats the back of your head “Settle down," he reassured you. "You didn’t do anything too crazy. You just had a bit too much to drink, that’s all."

"Do you want me to fill you in on what happened?"

“..would be nice, yeah.”

As he recalled the night, you flushed. Honestly, you wanted to jump off the window and never come back. You sighed as you buried your face in your hands, “I’m sorry.”

Jason reached out and gently pulled your hands away from your face. "Don’t be sorry," he said, "You didn’t do anything wrong. You just said what you felt, that’s all." He looked at you, his fingers still lightly wrapped around your wrists. "For the record, I thought it was sweet.” You scoffed, darting away from his gaze “Don’t say that.”

"And why not?” he questioned, “It’s true.”

"Do you really think I would reject you after you poured your heart out to me last night?" he huffs. “Huh?” you said, deadpanned.

He took a moment to choose his words carefully, his eyes locked on yours. "You want the truth?" he asked, his voice low but firm. He exhales, “Okay look, last night, when you said all that…” he said, "I was tempted to just brush it off.”

You nodded, “Yeah.” you muttered as you listened to him continue.

Jason continued, "But it’s just, you felt so real and I..." he trailed off for a moment, his thoughts churning behind his eyes. “It made me think... maybe I should be upfront too."

He paused for a bit, he was definitely not good with words. But this was for you, and he shouldn’t throw this opportunity.

“When you let me in your apartment while I was sitting injured on that snowy night… it was— I just couldn’t help but be infatuated. I hang around every night because.. you’re good company.” he confessed.

Your eyes soften, “Jason..” he then continues “I knew it was dangerous— for the both of us. To me, it was already dangerous that I was still visiting. But fuck, I just can’t help it because..” his eyes trail down.

“Because I think I'm falling for you,” he admitted. “And I hate it. It’s so damn stupid, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t ignore the way I feel every time I land on your firescape and enter your window.”

He holds your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes. “In short, I love you. I want us.” You stared at him, stunned. You tried to find any trickery in his face, but there was none at all. “But— but what about you? You’re a vigilante, I’m just…”

"I know," he said, his voice rough. "And I know it's risky— for both of us. I can’t lead a double life, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you."

He sighed, his hands slipping down from your shoulders to take your hands in his own. "Look, I'm not good at this. I don't know how to do relationships, I'm not used to being open or whatever... But with you, it feels different. You make me want to try.”

“Are you.. are you sure?” you said as your hands slightly trembled in his grip.

“I’m sure,” he said firmly, his voice steady and unwavering. “I don’t know how we’ll make it work, but I know I want to try.” He lifted your hands, intertwining your fingers with his as he held them tightly. “You’re the only person that’s made me consider this,” he admits. “And I wouldn’t mind it.”

He takes a deep breath, saying his final words “I don’t care about the risks or the dangers right now. I just want you. If you’ll have me… I’m yours.”

You felt a lump in your throat as your heart beat out of your chest, “Okay.. okay, yes.”

Jason felt the tension in his chest ease as he heard your answer. "Okay," he repeated, "We're doing this, then." your eyes softened as you reached out for his cheek.

He reached up, gently taking your hand and holding it against his cheek. With your hand still against his cheek, he turned his head slightly, pressing a light kiss into your wrist.

“I love you.” you managed to crack out. He looked deeply into your eyes, “I love you too,” he said.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. He kissed back, feeling your lips against his. As Jason pulled back ever so slightly, you could see the uncertainty clear in his eyes.

He looked at you for a moment, as if silently asking for reassurance, for your comfort and acceptance. Your eyes soften, “Are you afraid?” you asked. Jason took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto yours. “Pretty much..” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I'm.. scared of fucking up.”

You let out a soft huff, “I‘m scared too but..” you reached out and placed your hands on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “But we’ll figure it out together,” you said, “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

“Yeah, okay,” he murmured, “Together. We’ll do it together.”

Overtime, Jason started to spend more nights at your place, no longer slipping out in the dead of night. The change was subtle at first, but he began to make your place more like his own. There were small signs of his presence— a jacket draped over a chair, a pair of extra gloves on the table, a stray strand of his dark hair left on the pillowcase.

Jason stumbled into your apartment well past midnight, looking haggard and tired after a long patrol. His suit was scuffed with dirt and small splatters of blood.

Yet, despite his exhaustion, there was a restless energy that seemed to hum beneath his skin. As he entered through the window, he saw you sleeping on the couch, phone laying on your chest.

You must’ve fallen asleep waiting for him again. He found it both touching yet frustrating, he didn’t want you to wait for him all the time— yet appreciated it.

He placed your phone on the coffee table and slowly scooped your frame in his arms, carrying you into your bedroom. He placed you carefully on the soft sheets and pulled the blanket over you before heading to the bathroom.

As Jason flicked on the bathroom light, the sudden brightness caused you to stir, your eyes creaking open and adjusting to the light. You groggily sat up on the bed, rubbing your eyes as you tried to focus on the figure moving about inside the bathroom.

Through the crack in the door, you could see Jason in the bathroom, his reflection visible in the mirror. He was in the process of cleaning up, wiping away any dirt and blood from his patrol. The water in the sink was tinged crimson as he washed his hands, the evidence of his night's work disappearing down the drain.

After a few minutes, he emerges from the bathroom, his hair still with his new clothes. He stops in the doorway, his gaze falling on you. "You're up," he says, "Sorry If I woke you." You stretched and yawned, “It’s fine.” you replied as you placed your head on the pillows, your gaze never leaving his.

“You should go back to sleep,” he said gruffly, "You need rest."

“I’ll sleep if you sleep.” you said. Jason's lips quirked at your response, “You're not gonna let me win this, are you?" With that, he slid into the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

The bed creaked slightly as he settled in, his body relaxing as he lay next to you. You wrapped your around his neck as you shifted closer to him, “How was work?” He reached an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace, your bodies flush against each other.

He let out a deep exhale, "It was... rough," he replied, ”Long night, lots of trouble. Same as usual.”

You hummed at his response, you could tell there was something off. “I’m guessing something happened?” he hated how you could read him so well.

Jason's grip on your waist tightened slightly, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns on the bare skin of your hip. He was quiet for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should share what was on his mind.

Finally, he sighed, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "It’s just, sometimes I get tired fighting.”

Your cheek rested on his hair as you listened, “How so?” you asked. "It’s like— it feels like it never ends," he murmured, his words muffled against your skin. "No matter how many bad guys I take down, there's always more.”

You hummed, “Well, the city will never change. But saving a life can still make a difference.”

Jason scoffs, “No it’s not.” he said, you could hear the irritation and frustration in his voice. He paused for a moment, his fingers still tracing patterns on your hip. "I risk my life every night, and for what? The city's just as messed up as it was the night before.”

“There's hope somehow, it's subtle but.. it’s there I guess.” you said. "Hope," Jason said, the word tasting bitter in his mouth.

He let out a heavy sigh, his body sagging a bit as the weight of his thoughts pressed down on him again. "It's just... hard to see it sometimes," he confessed, his voice gruff.

You pulled him closer in his chest, “I guess it does when you’ve seen too much.” Jason buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. He mumbled against your skin, “Yeah.. I’ve seen a lot.”

You gently caressed his back, silently reassuring him. “You’re fine, at least for now.” you whispered. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his voice a soft murmur. “For now.”

The soft melody of the record player filled the room, as the two of you swayed on the floor and dim light from the lamps cast a cozy glow on the living room.

Jason held you close, his hand firmly on your waist while his other hand held your hand. His movements were steady as he led you in the slow dance. You were still a bit clumsy, having a hard time following his steps, “Are you sure I’m doing it right?” you furrowed your brows as your eyes drifted to his feet.

He gently squeezed the hand he was holding, pulling you a bit closer so you would look up at him. "You’re doing fine," he reassured, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Just follow my lead."

You sighed, looking back up at him, “Don’t ever make me attend those Wayne galas or whatever..” he can’t help but lightly huff, "Don’t worry," he assured you, steering you around a twirl. "Wayne galas are the last place I’d want to take you."

You chuckled, “Why? Not fun for you?” Jason shrugged slightly, "Those events are all about showmanship and pretending. I’d rather stay here with you."

You tried to hold back a chuckle, “Wow, the Red Hood can say such sweet words.”

Jason could feel a slight flush creeping up his cheeks. He liked to keep a tough image (most of the time) but secretly he loved being able to show you his softer side.

He mumbled something under his breath, refusing to meet your gaze. “What’d you say?” you teased as you tilted your head.

"I said— nevermind," he grumbled, he tried to cover up his embarrassment by acting like he was irritated. The record player then comes to a halt, you turn your head to the player and back at him, “Fun’s over.”

"Looks like it," he replied, reluctantly letting go of your hand. "Guess we should call it a night then." you held his wrist, “Or.. we can stand here for a while.” you suggested as you leaned on his chest.

Jason's arms circled around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo.

"Or that," he murmured, "I could stay like this for a while." Jason tilted his head, pressing a long kiss to the top of your head. You hummed as you let him kiss your face.

To him, you made everything so easy to forget. When he’s with you, it just goes away.

“You know it’s like 4 in the morning.” you pointed out. Jason hummed in acknowledgment, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of your back. He didn’t care about the time at all.

"You're going to be tired tomorrow," he murmured, "And who's fault is that?" you retorted, poking his chest with your finger. He scoffs, rolling his eyes "Yeah, alright," he conceded, "You got me there."

🌊 my last post got a lot of attention, thank you! heres pt. 2

#౨ৎ blythe’s fics #dc x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader oneshots #jason todd oneshots #jason todd #jason todd fluff #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagines #jason todd headcanons

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purinfelix · 1 day ago

Note

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was.

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together.

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it.

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand.

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong.

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side.

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded.

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one.

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone.

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“

“What? Why wouldn’t you?”

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh.

“Well you don’t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.”

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling.

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced.

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.”

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you.

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to.

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for.

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on.

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you.

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face.

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours.

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again.

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse.

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes.

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you.

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you.

“Hey!”

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already.

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings.

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.”

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making.

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired.

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.”

“Franco,” you say, quietly.

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?”

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds.

“Please, what?”

“Please, just go celebrate.”

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?”

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight.

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now.

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive.

“Aren’t we?”

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.”

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief.

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!”

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore.

“I love you.” He finally says.

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room.

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you.

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh.

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.”

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said.

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately.

“I love you too, Franco.”

“Wh- really?”

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice.

“Like, seriously?”

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then.

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat.

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you.

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“So, what now?” he asks.

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly.

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger.

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one #purinfelix #jet writes ★#jet answers ✧

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ham1lton · 1 day ago

Text

SIMPLE !

pairings: jude bellingham x lewis hamilton’s assistant!reader

summary: after your first few dates with jude, everything seems to be going smoothly. however, there’s just one problem: your boss seems to hate your new boyfriend.

warnings: judeyn being dumbasses.

author’s note: part of my dream girl universe. for best enjoyment, read after the first instalment. assistant2 also makes her first official appearance!!

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

📍 berlin, germany.

tagged: judebellingham

liked by ham1ltonshaderoom, jobebellingham and 2,837,918 others.

yourinstagram: the photos he takes of me vs the one i take of him. i think you all can see the better photographer.

view all 1,108,928 comments

user1: LOVE seeing hot people date each other.

-> user11: i love seeing two hot people be BESTIES.

user2: JUDE IS TAKEN ???!!!! NOOOOOOO

-> user3: babe… you didn’t have a chance at all. like please be serious.

-> user13: thank god they aren’t actually dating tho.

user4: my gf <3

-> judebellingham: who even are you.

-> user4: we can share <3 i can keep her satisfied thru the weekend u have the weekdays king.

jobebellingham: love this yn. he looks so depressed and ugly.

-> judebellingham: U JEALOUS ASF 😹

-> jobebellingham: yn i’ll paypal you £50 rn if you post more ugly pictures. which is all his pictures really.

-> yourinstagram: challenge accepted 🫡

lewishamilton: you look good yn!

-> user5: and what about jude??

-> lewishamilton: what about him?

-> user6: NOT YN’S HUSBAND HAVIN BEEF W/ HER BFF 😭

user7: lip combo?!!??

-> yourinstagram: i’m not a gatekeeper. it’s on my tiktok!! my most recent one <3

user8: you did my king so dirty with that one pic…. LMFAO DO IT AGAIN

-> yourinstagram: 🫡🫡

user10: their friendship is so cute!!

user12: yn is moving up in the world!!! from bts delulu to besties with JUDE BELLINGHAM

-> yourinstagram: blocking you! 😃

-> user12: you can block me but you can’t erase ‘hobisbabymama’

-> yourinstagram: HELLO?2&/9£/

user9: WHERE IS LANDO?!

-> user10: she blocked his main and his ten other side accounts because she’s secretly in love with him and wants to leave loser jude for him.

-> user9: hi lando 😁

user10: no roscoe pic?

-> yourinstagram: sorry babe :(( he’s at home with his dad and i’m on holiday. assistant2 has some highlights of him on her page!! <3

judebellingham: why do i look so depressed

-> yourinstagram: idk <3 want to get ice cream?

-> judebellingham: .. yeah

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title: my girlfriend’s boss (l,39) hates me and it’s ruining my relationship. help?

hi all, i don’t really post on here, but i’m at my wit’s end and need advice. i (j, m21) have been dating my girlfriend (y, f24) for a couple of months now, and it’s been brilliant. she’s smart, funny, beautiful, and honestly the kindest person i’ve ever met. here’s the catch: her boss (l, m39), who also happens to be an insanely famous athlete and very wealthy, clearly hates me.

y works as his personal assistant, and from what she’s told me, l has always been good to her. she’s known him for years, and he’s helped her out a lot in her career. she always says he’s like family, but ever since she introduced me to him, he’s been awful.

it started small, like him calling me “mate” in that condescending way that makes you feel about two feet tall. but last week, i went to pick y up from work, and he gave me this look—you know the type, the kind that says, “you’re not good enough to breathe the same air as her.” i tried to play it off, but it’s eating at me.

another time, we ran into him at a café, and he made this offhand comment about how “footballers aren’t known for their brains.” y tried to laugh it off, but i felt like an absolute idiot.

then there was the incident with the tickets. y mentioned she’d been offered two box seats for a big match, courtesy of l, and we were both so excited to go. but when she told him i was going with her, he suddenly “remembered” he’d promised them to someone else. i know it sounds paranoid, but it feels deliberate.

to make matters worse, y thinks i’m overreacting. she says l is just protective of her because they work closely together, but i can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. she brushes off his weird behaviour, but come on—this is the same man who asked her to taste-test a box of chocolate truffles because he couldn’t decide which to order for himself. (weird, right?)

it’s not just the comments, though. y told me l doesn’t usually care who his staff date, but she mentioned he’s suddenly started asking loads of questions about me, like whether i’ve been in trouble before or if i’m serious about her. it’s like he’s looking for a reason to disapprove. y thinks he’s being protective, but i swear he just doesn’t like me. here’s the problem: i’m pretty sure he hates me. actually, scratch that—i know he hates me.

i’m spiralling here. what if l starts sabotaging our relationship? y says she’s not going anywhere, but i can’t shake the feeling he’s got some weird power over her. am i just being insecure, or is there something seriously wrong here? what do i do?

top comments:

soggy_pigeon: nah, this is classic alpha behaviour. he’s marking his territory. he probably sees her as more than just an assistant, if you know what i mean. tread carefully.

fluffybananas: footballers aren’t known for their brains. maybe he has a point.

spicy_gravy: dude, he’s probably jealous you’ve got abs and a girl who loves you. chill.

randomuser_123: sounds like you’re dating your boss’s work spouse.

tofu_throwaway: i think l’s just jealous because y spends more time with you now. he’s like a toddler upset that someone’s playing with his favourite toy.

ladybantheboys: ok but what if it’s the opposite? like, what if l approves of you but is being mean on purpose to test if you’re good enough for her?

football4ever: j, mate, you’re overthinking. l’s just a famous bloke who doesn’t want to lose his assistant to some random guy. show him you’re not random. take him out for a pint or something.

memequeen420: this reminds me of when i had a cat and got a new dog. the cat hated the dog at first but now they’re best friends. just give it time.

plshelpme1998: have you tried googling “how to win over your girlfriend’s boss”? there’s bound to be a wikiHow.

bananabreadbae: mate, if he wanted her, he’d have made a move by now. maybe he just doesn’t like footballers. not everyone does, you know.

user2847: honestly, the truffle thing makes me think he’s the weird one. does he do this with everyone or just y? if it’s just her, he’s probably got some weird older-brother complex going on.

ultimategoblin69: maybe he wants to adopt you. famous people do weird shit like that.

yogurtbutter: ok but what if you’re the problem? maybe you’re just a bit annoying and he senses it. famous people have great instincts.

iamnotanon: have you considered sabotaging him back? like, nothing serious, but maybe show up in a better suit than him one day. alpha vibes only.

opinionatedowl: this is a power thing. l’s rich and famous, and he’s used to being in charge. stand your ground, but don’t disrespect him. he’s probably testing you.

thecheeseman: it sounds like a bad rom-com where l secretly approves of you but can’t admit it because he’s emotionally constipated. if i were you, i’d play the long game.

spicywaterlover: wait… what if l is secretly in love with y and you’re the obstacle? plot twist.

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edit: wow, ok. this has been a ride. thanks for all the comments, even the wild ones. i think i’ll try the “pint” suggestion, but i draw the line at sabotage. will update if anything changes (or if i get adopted).

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liked by messyassuser, lando11priv and 1,938,882 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: football star jude bellingham seen cuddling and being affectionate with his new girl! she has been identified as yn yln, she is the personal assistant of f1 icon lewis hamilton. they were spotted outside a restaurant in las vegas after the grand prix all boo’d up! according to sources, they were all loved up at the after party. they ‘didn’t leave each other’s space’. what do we think about this new couple ham1ltons?

view all comments

user1: who tf even is she

-> user2: a baddie. she’s seriously so funny and sweet. you guys should see her tiktok or insta pages. jude is punching above his weight.

user3: oh!

user4: HOTTIES!!!

user5: why they doing the most in public???

-> user6: they’re in love? girl lmao.

-> user7: she’s his beard or he’s hers. idk yet. i need to consult the stars.

-> user8: ^ me when i’m off my meds.

user9: am i the only one who thinks they’re cute? good for them!!

user10: um i think she’d be happier with lando.

-> user11: lando please how are you still making new accounts.

-> user10: i’m totally not the handsome and gorgeous lando. i’m actually… pando. hi.

user12: my gf and my bf are dating??? i’m gonna be sick.

-> user13: they got two hands.

user14: they’re rlly dating???

-> user15: no bitch. they’re just coworkers 🙄

-> user14: oh! thank you :D

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UPDATE: my girlfriend’s boss (l,39) hates me and it’s ruining my relationship. help?

hi all, it’s j again. thanks for the advice on my last post—it was a mix of helpful, hilarious, and… well, a bit unsettling. but it gave me the push i needed to talk to l. here’s what happened:

i decided to man up and ask him out for a pint to clear the air. i figured it was the most normal thing to do. well, turns out l’s teetotal (thanks, y, for not warning me properly). when i suggested a pint, he just looked at me for a second and went, “i don’t drink, mate,” in that calm, terrifying way he has. i panicked, said something about tea, and left feeling like an absolute idiot.

but two days later, he called y at work and told her to invite me round to his place for tea. TEA. this man lives in a house that looks like it’s straight out of a Bond film, so you can imagine how intimidating it was to rock up with a packet of biscuits like some budget offering.

long story short, we had tea, and he cleared the air. he admitted he’d been giving me a hard time because he wanted to make sure i was serious about y. he said she’s like family to him (didn’t say “work spouse,” thank god), and he needed to know i’d treat her right. honestly, it was a bit awkward, but also kind of sweet.

so yeah, we’re good now. he even said he’d save me a seat for the next big race. i don’t know if that was a peace offering or a power move, but i’ll take it.

thanks for the push, reddit. you lot are mad, but in a good way. most of the time.

comments:

ladybantheboys: told you he was testing you! this is literally every rom-com ever. next step: you accidentally bond over an inside joke, and he becomes your biggest fan.

bananabreadbae: this is so british it hurts. “sorry i was mean, let’s have tea.” mate, at least you passed the test!

football4ever: called it! blokes like him just want to make sure you’re solid. now you’re in his good books, you’re set for life. congrats, mate.

memequeen420: so… what kind of biscuits did you bring? was it something boring like digestives, or did you go all out with hobnobs? we NEED to know.

randomuser_123: this is like when my dog hated my boyfriend at first but then they bonded over cheese. sometimes it just takes time.

tofu_throwaway: glad it worked out, but honestly, i’m still a bit scared of l. even through your post, he sounds like he could crush a man with a single stare.

iamnotanon: congrats on passing the test. now don’t mess it up, or i guarantee he’ll make you disappear. rich people have connections.

ultimategoblin69: you went to his house?! are you sure it wasn’t a trap? like, did he subtly scan your fingerprints for future blackmail material?

plshelpme1998: like, this whole thing is giving weirdly protective father vibes. good luck, mate.

user2847: what does his house smell like? no, seriously. i feel like rich people’s houses have that “old money” smell, like leather and expensive wood polish. was it intimidating?

(deleted): send feet pics.

opinionatedowl: so… when’s the wedding? i’m assuming l will walk her down the aisle now that you’ve been knighted into his inner circle.

thecheeseman: this is the most British solution ever. “i made you feel terrible, but here, have some earl grey, and now we’re mates.” glad it worked out though!

memequeen420 (again): STILL no answer on the biscuits. j, you’re avoiding the REAL questions here. were they branded or store-brand? did he eat one? this is important.

weirdcookieperson: did he sniff you when you walked in? like, does he have a heightened sense of smell? rich people are weird, man.

alphamale_uk: mate, you handled this all wrong. never apologise, never offer tea, and NEVER back down to another alpha. you should’ve walked in, sat in his chair, and asserted dominance. that’s how you gain respect. next time, bring steak, not biscuits. real men bond over meat, not tea.

j (op): l’s vegan, mate. bringing a steak would’ve been like waving a red flag at a bull. also, this isn’t Planet of the Apes, it’s just tea. chill.

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j (op): wow, i forgot how weird reddit is. for the record: branded hobnobs. because i’m not a monster. no sniffing, no fingertip scanning and i’ll get someone to update you if i go missing. cheers for the laughs.

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— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @aliciaablueprint @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @theblueblub @23victoria @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @yongi-lee @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

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#dream girl universe シ #jayde’s works ☆#lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton x reader #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #f1 smau #football smau #formula one smau #formula one imagine

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wonderjanga · 8 hours ago

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YJ meets C.C.

This is the Young Justice edition of my JL meets C.C. post from a super long time ago.

So basically, like their adult counterparts, the YJ went back in time too. Marvel explicitly warned them multiple times not to goof off too much in the mysterious laboratory, but no, someone happened to goof off too much which caused a time machine to somehow activate and here they were now. They were kinda just wandering around trying to find out where they were. They’re just thankful they were in civilian clothes when the accident happened.

M’gann: *bumps into C.C.*

Marilyn: “Watch where you’re going, bitch.”

And that was how the YJ met a teenage C.C. and Marilyn. Both of which were kinda assholes in high school, think mean girls, but somehow they became the sweetest people ever when they became adults. Here were a collection of incidents between them all.

Other YJ: “You go!” *push Connor forward*

Conner: *begrudgingly walks over to where C.C., Marilyn, and a couple other kids are sitting for lunch* “Uh… hi.”

C.C.: “Hi?” *looks Conner up and down* “Can we help you?”

Conner: “Uhhhhhh…”

C.C.: *stares for a solid few seconds* “Are you autistic?”

Conner: “No?”

C.C.: “You seem like it.”

*silence*

C.C.: *grins* “You know, you should totally sit with us.”

And that was how Conner got accepted into the group. Was it for being autistic or was it for a different reason? He doesn’t know.

C.C.: “Hey, you.” *jogs over*

Kaldur: “Yes?”

C.C.: “You’re gonna join the swim team, right?”

Kaldur: “I don’t plan to.”

C.C.: “But don’t you have gills, fish boy?”

Kaldur: “Fish boy?”

C.C.: “I’m not even gonna ask if your mom fucked a fish, I just really want you to join. So just think about it, okay?”

Kaldur: *rethinking everything he thought he knew about Cap*

C.C.: “Oh and by the way if you don’t join, I will tell everybody about the gills. Just in case that wasn’t clear.”

As for why he wanted Kaldur to join the swim team? C.C. was on it. Because I say so.

C.C.: *sleeping in class*

Marilyn: *drawing on her boyfriend’s hand*

Kid Flash: *notices and tries to wake him up* “Dude, you’re gonna miss this.”

C.C.: *slaps his hand away* “Fuck off, ginger. I have straight A’s in this class.” *goes right back to sleep*

Robin and Artemis: *talking while walking*

C.C. and Marilyn: *walking while talking, Marilyn trips Artemis*

Artemis: *falls* “What the hell?”

Marilyn: “My bad.” *smiles*

Artemis: “Your bad? You did that on purpose.”

Marilyn: “No I didn’t.” (She absolutely did)

Artemis: “Yes you did.”

C.C.: “No, she didn’t.” (Again, she did) “Honestly, even if she did, you deserve it for being so annoying about an accident.”

Robin: “That’s not sound reasoning at all…”

When they all got back, they all saw the Cap in a new light. They also all had so many questions?? Like is he still dating that Marilyn chick? Cap isn’t an asshole anymore, so what happened to make him change? Does he actually think some of the things he said about them??

Also, during their short time together C.C., actually did like Conner, he was the like one person out of the YJ C.C. and Marilyn actually liked and weren’t being assholes to.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #marilyn batson #cc batson

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eunimaybe · 3 days ago

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— • POINT OF CONTENTION : YOU.

ᝰ.ᐟ : why are you on a coffee date with jay? i thought you guys were the biggest rivals, no?

pairing! politicalsciencemajor!jay x politicalsciencemajor!reader | wc. 0.7k | warnings: attempted humour (failed), prob kinda cringe, inaccurate university stuff (im so sorry i’ve never been in uni) EN-

🖇️ : jay's version!! political science suits him so well, don't you think? also this became a debate fic for some reason… but i hope you guys enjoy ~ jake version is next ^^

political science is such a jay subject

someone says political science i think of jay

you first met jay at a debate club at your university

when you first saw him you thought "hmm, typical political science major with not-so-typical sharp jawline"

tbh you just saw him as competition he better get tf out of your way you're at university to get the best grades and graduate on top like you did for middle school and high school

you hated how jay was always at top

you admired him but hated him at the same time can he please fumble for once?

jay also sees competition when he sees you except the competition is a hot twenty year old girl with silver glasses and an immaculate fashion taste

but competition nonetheless

so one day you guys are having a debate about some political shit

you're even more competitive than usual

political science is YOUR major so YOU have to win

but guess what

your opponent is no another than jay himself

both of you are absolutely determined to win the debate

like bitch there's fire in your eyes you have to beat this man

he’s on the positive side and you’re on the negative so you think you’re completely cooked

but guess what gang

you won.

you just kind of stand there wondering wtf just happened until reality comes crashing down

you just beat jay, and he's the best political science student the school has.

you spent like 922929485 minutes making jay’s life hell for his loss before leaving the room in a very good mood.

and let me tell you

jay is down bad.

he just saw you give the most scrumptious, delicious, yummy argument to counter his equally scrumptious, delicious, yummy argument

nobody has ever beaten him like that before.

EVER.

but you did.

and that's very hot of you.

tbh the debate was a very close call

jay's arguments were sharper than his jawline and that's saying something (moment of appreciation for his 90 degrees jawline)

you're part impressed, part annoyed and part determined.

you NEED to beat him in the next debate as well

you're practically drooling when you think about beating him in the next coming debate as well

perhaps you're also drooling over jay but you'd never admit that

you just gaslight yourself into thinking that it's just begrudged admiration that's making you feel this way

you spend the next week researching the new topic for the debate you're going to have with jay to ensure that you'll be able to counter every single argument he throws at you

you don't know whether you're on the positive side of negative yet BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER YOU'LL JUST RESEARCH IT ALL

you like to study in that one little spot at the library but turns out jay also conveniently really likes that spot

you wake up ten minutes early everyday to get there before him

you're basically running on caffeine and caffeine only the whole week trying to juggle the preparations for the debate and lectures

somebody keeps leaving you a cup black coffee, your favourite, on your morning lecture tables

you don't know what's going on and why someone's giving you free beverages buttt free coffee, right?

idk if you're just oblivious or stupid or denying the truth

maybe all three because how tf are you not connecting the dots?

the debate.

jay.

the coffee.

when the next debate finally comes, you sit down across jay with your COLOUR ORGANISED flashcards and notes

you don't even have to look at them

jay's also been preparing as well, so it's a very tough debate

both of you shooting one argument after another BUT GUESS WHO WON

you. ACADEMIC QUEEN FRFR

you celebrate by another session of rubbing your victory into jay's too-hot-for-his-own-good face but you're aware that the debate was practically a draw

you both did so good it's actually crazy

the next day, you come to another cup of black coffee sitting at your lecture table except it has a little note saying

"nice debate yesterday. you wanna go out together tonight? - jay"

of course you say yes I MEAN LOOK AT THIS MAN HOLY SHIT

heeseung jake sunghoon sunoo jungwon ni-ki

✉️: @icyy-hoon send me an ask or comment under this post to be added to my taglist <3

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guess-whos-back · 2 days ago

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I know there are theories floating around about buddie getting together because of near death experience for Buck or Eddie, but I think if the writers go down that way, it absolutely cannot be Buck nde. Buck who has spent his whole only life getting romantic attention (at least which follows through into a relationship) when he is hurt or in dangerous situations, cannot have the love of his life confess because he is in danger.

Lets take the history

Abby: Stalked and called him because he was traumatised on TV talking about devon

Ali: They met when he rescued her from an earthquake

Taylor: Rescued her from helicopter crash

Natalia: Just had gotten back from a death coma, and she thought that was cool

Tommy: Met at the helicopter flying into a storm with his adopted dad figure probably dead

The romantic attention from Eddie cannot follow the same pattern, because Eddie knows and likes him regardless of the danger and hurt and thats what makes it end game.

#my posts #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #9-1-1 #9 1 1 buddie #911 abc #911 season 8 #911

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straylightdream · 1 day ago

Text

getaway car

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: hansol vernon chwe x f.reader

↳ The ties were black, the lies were white. In shades of gray in candlelight. I wanted to leave him. I needed a reason.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: soulmate au??, neighbors to lovers, non idol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mc boyfriend is a jerk, the mc ex is physically cheating, mc is emotional cheating, lots of emotions, smut warning below the cut

𝐚𝐧: my next story for SVT inspired by reputation songs by taylor swift. This is part of a loosely connecting series called “all for you” you can absolutely just read this as one shot. Thank you @whimsical-whatever for helping me figure out this story and listening to me ramble about it.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: oral (fem rec), fingering, protected sex, starting to have sex in the shower, multiple positions, this is very fluffy vanilla smut, lots of emotions

When people talk about being in love they always make it sound so grand and wonderful. They don’t talk about the heartbreak that can also be experienced loving someone who doesn’t deserve your love.

Laying in bed you stare at the empty spot that should be occupied by your boyfriend of five years, but instead he’s nowhere to be seen.

In the last seven months things have fallen apart. No matter how hard you think back you don’t think you can pin the moment when it all started. You’re not happy anymore by any means. You’re not even sure you’re still in love.

There’s only one gleam of light in your life. The boy who lives down the hall Vernon. Whenever you see him he instantly brightens your day. You had met when you moved in, but you didn’t really talk until one day he rode in the elevator with you while you were crying. Since that day Vernon has been a fixture in your life. He became a shoulder to cry on when your boyfriend hurt your feelings. He was also someone you could talk to when you wanted to pretend everything was okay.

You tried your hardest to not complain about your relationship all the time. Most of the time you would just say you were sad and needed a friend.

This last week has been bad. It’s quite obvious your boyfriend is cheating on you.

From the moment you met Vernon you felt drawn to him. At first you told yourself it wasn't a romantic feeling but the longer you knew him the more you realized you felt like you need him in your life to exist. You told yourself over and over you were faithful to your boyfriend that this was nothing more than a crush. But the more your relationship starts to crumble the more you let yourself realize you have feelings for the boy down the hall.

It’s another night of fighting with your boyfriend. He’s come home from work way later than he should have. He walks in after midnight and you instantly spot the stain of lipstick on his shirt collar. There is a stabbing feeling in your chest. No matter how hard you loved him he was never going to be faithful to you.

You’ve pointed out to him a handful of times that things he does makes you think he could be cheating, but this is the first time you have called him a cheater. You would think that maybe he would defend himself and tell you that he’s not cheating, but he doesn’t do that. He tells you he cheats because of you. He points all the blame on you.

You scream at him, you're done and it’s over. You feel utterly broken. Sobbing that he broke your heart as he storms out of the apartment saying he needs air.

You sit on the couch trying to gather yourself. Giving yourself a moment before you pick up your phone and rush out of your apartment.

Walking down the hall there is only one person you wanna see. It’s way past one in the morning now. Opening your phone you hit Vernon contact. Holding your phone to your ear it rings about five times before he answers the phone.

“Is everything okay?” It’s rare you call him let alone in the middle of the night.

“Not really. I’m outside, can you let me in,” you start to cry again.

“Yeah.”

Moments later he opens the door quickly. He’s just in a pair of boxer briefs. He must have been in bed already.

“I’m sorry,” you say as tears slide down your cheek.

He doesn’t say anything. He takes your hand leading you into his apartment he shares with Chan and Seokmin.

He shut the door, locking it. He hesitates for a moment before he rests his hand on your cheek and gently wipes away your tears.

“I told him I’m done. He came home after midnight with lipstick stained on his collar. I don’t wanna do this anymore. He doesn’t love me and I can’t love him anymore. I don't love him anymore.” You lean into his touch.

“I’m glad you left him. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. You’re sorry for so many things. You know he cares for you and that he probably has always romantically liked you for a while just like you have. And no matter what you do you hurt him in one way or another.

“Stop saying that. You have nothing to apologize to me for.” He gives you a gentle smile.

“Can we go to your room? I don’t want to bother the boys. It’s already so late and I already woke you up.”

Reaching down he takes your hand in his for the first time and leads you to his room. He shuts the door and releases your hand. “Would you mind if I stayed with you tonight?”

“Of course you can stay here.” You’ve never been so happy you stormed out of the house in your pajamas. “Did you want me to take the couch?”

“No, I was hoping I could sleep in your bed with you. I just really want to hold your hand.”

He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips. You crawl under the covers and watch as Vernon turns the light on and crawls into bed next to you. You both lay there facing each other. There is a gap between you. Laying your hand there you want to be close to him. You want him to hold you and to kiss you and tell you you’ll be okay. But that is too much to ask of him.

There is always something about Vernon that he’s always been able to read you. He must notice you’re struggling. He reaches out, taking your hand in his.

“I don’t want to go back to my apartment. I don’t want to live in a building that is haunted with memories of him and I.”

He takes a deep breath squeezing your hand. “You don’t have to. I’ll help you pack your things when he’s gone to work.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” You can’t help the tears that are slowly falling.

“You can stay here with me as long as you need.”

“The boys won’t like that.” You can’t imagine either of the boys would be a fan of another person living in their three bedroom one bath apartment.

“They won’t care. Seokmin is back with his ex and barely lives here and Chan loves you. He won’t mind having you around.”

“Okay, I might need to stay here for a while. My lease wasn’t up for like six more months. Maybe I can find somewhere new by then.” Maybe Vernon has a friend who needs a new roommate.

“You don’t have to worry about that right now.” He wants to pull you close to his body and hold you like he has desperately wanted to.

There is a long moment of silence between you. “I didn't tell him I wasn’t coming home tonight. I just left after I told him we’re done.”

“That’s okay.”

“Thank you.” You’re trying to stop your tears.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he gives you a sleepy smile.

It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep with your head on his chest. His hand gently rubs your side soothing you to sleep. When you dream that night you dream about Vernon the boy who saved you. You dream about him finally kissing you the way you desperately want.

The next day you call out of work and send your now ex boyfriend a text telling him that it’s truly over. He’s luckily at work and away from the apartment. When he finally returned to your shared apartment last night he sent you seven texts trying to get a hold of you in the middle of last night.

You expect to receive an angry text responding to you telling him you want to break up but he leaves you on read. It’s probably for the best he does. You don’t think you could take arguing with him.

While he’s at work Vernon and Seokmin come help you pack up everything they possibly can. Seungcheol even brings his truck over to take some of your bigger stuff to a storage unit he has. You could cry at how kind Vernon and his friends are being to you. By the time five o'clock comes around basically anything that ever meant anything to you is long gone from your apartment. Seokmin and Seungcheol left you alone while you wrote a goodbye to your ex telling him he wouldn’t be hearing from you and that you would send him one more month worth of rent and that would be it.

Locking the door to your now former apartment stung. Tears brim your eyes thinking about how much you truly loved this apartment. Vernon takes your hand and brings it to his lips where he places a gentle kiss on top.

Moving on wasn’t going to be easy. You know that even though you have fallen out of love. This breakup is going to hurt. At least you now have Vernon there by your side. How much you desperately wanted to be with him, you wanted to heal and you didn’t want him to feel like he’s just a rebound.

Laying in bed that night, your head once again rests on his chest as he holds you close. “I wanna be with you fully,” you whisper.

“That’s good because I wanna be with you.” He’s slowly drawing circles on your arm.

“I don’t want to jump right into this. I think I need some time before we fully try this. But I’m begging you to be patient with me.”

Gently he presses his lips to the top of your head. “I will wait as long as it takes. I’m just asking that I can still hold your hand and hold you while we sleep. I don’t want to push you into anything else while you heal.”

After that night things stayed like this with Vernon for a while. You lived in his home and shared a bed with him for over a month and half. Vernon was truly your person. He was your rock and you have fallen for him even more.

Today has been hell. Anything that can go wrong is. You got yelled at at work, your ex has been trying to contact you all day and on top of that. The icing on the cake is getting stuck in a rain storm without a jacket or umbrella after getting dinner. Luckily Vernon is with you so you aren’t alone getting stuck in a rainstorm. After finding out about your terrible day at work Vernon took you out for dinner to cheer you up. Neither of you had any idea a rainstorm was coming. You had walked from the apartment about a mile to a cafe for dinner, but the rain was making it where you needed to get a cab home.

Running from the cab to the apartment building you can feel the water soaking through your clothes.

Opening the door to Vernon apartment you both instantly notice how quiet the apartment is.

“Chan is at work and I think Seokmin is with his girl. They’re fully back together now,” Vernon says. You’ve only met Seokmin ex a couple times when she came over to see him. She’s a sweet girl and seems like a good fit for him.

“Oh. I think I need a shower to warm up.” You pause staring at him for a moment. “Did you want to join?” You know this means things between you will change. But you desperately want more with him. It’s been a month and half of you living here sharing lingering touches, longing stares, and cuddling at night. You aren’t sure how much longer you could share a bed with him before you lose your mind.

“Are you sure?” He says staring at you with almost a concerned look on his face.

“Yes.”

Walking away from him you head off to the shower that is next door to his room. Luckily the boys aren’t home so you don’t have to worry about them interrupting you. You turn on the hot water waiting for him to walk in. Walking into the bathroom he locks the door as you strip away your clothes. He stands there like a statue as you open the sliding glass door and step into the steam. Your body feels an instant relief as the hot water hits your cold skin.

Standing under the warm water you watch Vernon through the frosted glass. You should feel embarrassed about him seeing you naked but you aren’t at all. This feels natural. You want whatever is going to happen with Vernon to happen. You don’t want to feel guilty for having a crush on him. He’s truly the reason you were able to walk away from your loveless relationship.

“Vernon?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to join me?” You step back under the warm water.

Through the frosted glass you can see him pulling off his shirt. “Do you want me to join you?”

“I want you to.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just takes off his pants and boxers. The glass door slides open and there he is naked in all his glory. You don’t know the last time you saw a man naked other than your ex. Vernon is absolutely beautiful. You hope in the future you can kiss your way across his beautiful skin.

The moment he slides the door shut it doesn’t turn into some lust filled moment. He stares at you for a long moment. A gentle smile on his face.

“Can you come closer to me?” You hold your hand out. Silently he takes your hand stepping closer. The warm water is washing over both of you.

“Thank you,” you don’t think you can ever thank him enough for giving you a reason to leave.

“Don’t have to thank me.”

Reaching up, his hand rests on your cheek, “I feel like you’re supposed to be in my life.”

“I feel like I need you in my life. I feel things for you I never felt for him in those five long years.” He leans down and rest his forehead against yours.

“You know Wonwoo and his girlfriend?”

“You mean the boy who is absolutely in love?” You’ve met all of Vernon’s friend in the last month and half and the moment you met Wonwoo and his girlfriend you realized he was head over heels for his girlfriend. She had told you one night when you were all at Seungcheol and Joshua’s house that Wonwoo made her believe in soulmates. Hearing her say that made you question if soulmates are real. Because if they were, you think you found yours.

“They always say they’re each other's soulmates, and I think you’re mine if they’re real,” he pulls away from you slowly.

Your body feels fuzzy as you process his words. You can’t think straight as you close the small distance between you and crash your lips into his for your first kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair pulling his body closer to yours. You can feel him hardening against your stomach as you deepen the kiss.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this in the shower,” he whispers against your lips.

“Vernon?”

“Yes?”

“I want you in every way imaginable.”

Pulling away from you he turns off the water and steps out of the shower. He hands you a towel and starts working quickly drying himself off. The moment you’re both dry and wrapped in towels, you take his hand leading him towards his room.

Laying on his bed with your legs spread wide he’s kissing his way across your delicate skin. He kisses down your mound before pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit. His fingers part your folds as he licks your sensitive bundle of nerves. Slowly he pumps one finger inside. Your soft moans echo throughout his bedroom. He adds another finger earning a moan. Your finger clutch the sheets below you as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

Looking down at him you find him staring up at you through hooded eyes. He watches as you fall apart moaning his name.

Pulling away slowly he dips his fingers into his mouth wiping away your release. You stumble to sit up wanting to return the favor.

“What are you doing?” He asked, crawling off the bed.

“I was going to give you head in return,” you cock your head to the side.

“How much I would love that, I can’t think about anything other than being inside you,” he sighs.

“Oh-“

He reaches into his nightstand pulling out a foil packet. Tearing it open with his teeth. With lust filled eyes you watch as he rolls it down his hardened length.

Laying back on the bed you spread your legs waiting for him patiently.

Hovering over you he’s staring at you like you are the only person in the whole world. Reaching up, you rest your hand on his cheek.

“Do I sound like I’m crazy if I tell you I love you?” He whispers.

“No not at all,” you thought being in love again would be scary, but you think you have always been in love with him since you met him. He came into your life at the perfect time. You met him as you started to fall out of love with your ex. The moment you met Vernon in the hallway with your hands full of groceries you instantly felt something for him. Being around him made you feel like he’s supposed to be in your life.

“I love you,” he says softly. “I need you to know that before we have sex. I’m head over heels for you.” You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. “You don’t have to say it right now baby. I just want you to know how I feel.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Are you ready?”

You nod.

He slowly slides into you. The stretch feels amazing. Lifting your leg you open yourself up to him more. Everything in the world suddenly feels like it’s shifted. Your fingers claw at his shoulders as he thrust into you at a slow pace. His lips are yours kissing you like he needs you to breathe. This feels different than any other sex you've had before. Tangling your fingers in his hair you gently tug him away from your lips. You want to stare at him for a long moment.

“Oh my god-“ you moan.

“You feel like you were made for me,” he moans.

You hook your leg over his back just above his butt pulling him closer to you. His thrusts are incredibly deep with his slow pace.

“Please-“ you can only whimper and whine.

He rolls his hips a little faster. Your hands move down to his butt. Gripping his cheeks pulling him down closer to you. You feel as if you can’t get physically close enough to him.

“Baby do you want to change positions?” He must notice you want to have some sort of control. You seem like you desperately want to touch him.

“Please.”

He pulls out of you slowly and moves so he’s sitting with his back against the headboard. You waste no time straddling him. Slowly sinking down on his length. His hands rest on your hips helping you ride him. One of your hands rest on his cheek while the others rest on his chest right above his heart. Leaning toward you, press your forehead against his.

Silent gasps pass his lips.

“Fuck-“ you moan.

Your thighs burn as you ride him but that doesn’t stop you. Desperate to see what he looks like when he falls apart.

“Are you close?” You whine.

Silently he nods. One of his hands going up to take your breast. Squeezing it before rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers.

“Are you going to come?” He asked.

“Yes-“

You roll your hips a little faster. You clit brushes against his pelvic bone earning a wanton moan. Your second orgasm hits you harder than your first. Your hips stop moving as a white hot wave washes over you. Rolling your head back, you moan. His hands grip your hips as he moves your body up and down his length chasing his own release.

He falls apart moaning your name. You stare at him as he holds you flush against his thighs and he falls apart. The sight of him like this is absolutely breathtaking.

Your chest is heaving as you try to come down from your high slowly. Holding his face with both hands you slowly lean forward pressing your lips to his for a soft kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper the words that have been floating in your head for a while.

“I love you too.” He can’t help but smile.

“Thank you for giving me a reason to leave him.” You’ll never be able to thank Vernon for showing you that you could love someone else, and that someone could love you more than your ex did. He’s showing what it means to find your person. He’s making you believe soulmates could be real.

He pushes your hair away from your face. His thumb drags across your cheek slowly. “Falling in love with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

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iamgonnagetyouback · 22 hours ago

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AHHHH THIS IS SO STINKING CUTEEE, ELLE!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

“You just… you always make me feel so safe.”

YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME! My heart is now officially jelly. The way it makes the boys go all gooey?! LIKE SAMESIES, GUYS. ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

“Barty let out a disgustingly gooey ‘awe!’ as Evan laughed and Regulus snorted.”

I CAN HEAR THIS IN MY HEAD. Barty being the dramatic, gushy one while Evan and Regulus act like they’re above it but totally aren’t?

“Regulus hardly does anything.”

THE AUDACITY! Barty coming for Reg like that while simultaneously holding him? And Regulus’ indignant “I beg your pardon?” was absolutely perfect. I could hear it.

“You’ll only cuddle as the little spoon, and that’s only because you’re trapped and can’t go anywhere.”

I am LOSING IT. Sweet, soft little spoon Reg is everything I didn’t know I needed. (˶˃⤙˂˶)

“But if any of you tell anyone I’m the little spoon, I will deny we ever met.”

STOP IT RIGHT NOW ( ≧ᗜ≦) The fact that he admits defeat but still has to preserve his dignity??? This is PEAK Regulus, and I love him.

I’ve been giggling, crying, and grinning through this entire thing, Elle!! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

Hey elle! Trying to make sure I do this right because I dont ask often. 🐻 with the snuggly prompts “you always make me feel so safe.” and “if you tell anyone I’m the little spoon i will deny we’ve ever met” i was thinking regulus or barty or evan or all of them 😉 but they are the little spoon. Happy 5k my darling xx

awe thanks so much for the prompt, babes!! hope I did it justice <3

the winter games

poly!rosestarkiller x fem!reader who is cuddling with the boys [438 words]

CW: Regulus living up to the black cat accusations

“You’re quiet, pretty girl.” Evan murmured into the hair just behind your ear. A smile spread over your face as you melted further into him.

“M’not quiet.” You denied. “Content.”

“She’s asleep.” Regulus countered from across from you, finally forcing you to open your eyes just so you could glare at him.

“Am not.”

“Don’t antagonise her.” Barty murmured as he pulled Regulus further into his chest, causing the slightly smaller boy to scowl though he did go willingly.

“Yeah, don’t antagonise me.” You taunted, earning you a warning squeeze of Evan’s embrace.

“Why’re you so quiet?” He redirected you, relenting at the contradictory sound you made in the back of your throat. “Sorry, Merlin; why’re you so content, then?”

You made a hum of consideration. “You just…” you started, suddenly a little shy having all three boys facing you - Evan from behind, Regulus in front of you, and Barty behind him. “I don’t know…you always make me feel so safe.”

Barty let out a disgustingly gooey ‘awe!’ as Evan laughed and Regulus snorted.

“Aren’t you sweet.” Evan murmured before pressing a kiss to the side of your face.

“Wait, wait. Treasure, which one of us makes you feel safe?” Barty queried then; head popping up from behind Regulus not unlike a prairie dog.

“Me, obviously.” Evan offered, though you knew he only did it to get a rise out of his boyfriend, which it did.

“Sod off you wanker!”

“All of you! Obviously!” You laughed, hoping to curtail the chaos before it started.

“Well I hardly see how,” Barty muttered, though he looked slightly less volatile than a moment before. “Regulus hardly does anything.”

“I beg your pardon?” Regulus asked indignantly.

“You’re terrible at cuddling.” Barty explained simply, earning him a scoff from Regulus currently situated in his arms.

“What in the sodding hells do you call this, then?”

“He practically had to wrestle you into position, Reg.” Evan offered.

“Exactly.” Barty agreed, glad to have his point attested. “You’ll only cuddle as the little spoon, and that’s only because you’re trapped and can’t go anywhere.”

Regulus was quiet for a moment before he harrumphed at the group of you.

“It’s alright, Reg.” You placated around a chuckle. “There’s nothing wrong with being the little spoon.”

Regulus scowled at you, but the way he melted into Barty and his cheeks pinked gave him away.

“Fine.” He huffed. “But if any of you tell anyone I’m the little spoon, I will deny we ever met.”

Barty planted a smacking kiss to Regulus’ cheek as you booped his nose and Evan laughed.

“Okay, Black,” Evan chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

#fic recs ༘⋆#𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞: 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐲

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grandline-fics · 2 days ago

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Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo, he's his own warning. Descriptions of illness and slight angst. Enemies to Lovers!, Soulmate!AU

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2, 903

A/N: I'm still not feeling great and managing to get requests written that I'm happy with has been a struggle but I was able to keep up the momentum from the last chapter to get this done. Hope you all enjoy and thank you all for your positive response to this series.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

——————

Your fall from such a height would have meant almost certain death had it been anyone else. Luckily and unknowingly for you, Doflamingo had issued an order to one of his elite officers after your less than pleasant encounter with the three pirates in your bathroom. ‘From now on you stay with them when they’re on their own.’ It was a simple order and one Pica took with absolute severity even though there was no danger to you from the Doflamingo pirates. He was going to obey his orders loyally, never leaving anything to chance. Even when you slept he remained close by in the Palace stonework, close enough to protect you and sense your movements but also giving you the privacy you needed.

When you stumbled out onto the balcony Pica was alerted and knew something was wrong. Through the day he’d been checking on you, noticing a difference in your behaviour. Thinking it was a small cold or flu he didn’t think to alert Doffy while he was away, besides he never stayed away for long when called away by the Marines. But then you fell over the railing and Pica acted immediately. His body pushed out from the stone and his large hands held out to catch you but then your limp body disappeared when it was a hair’s breadth from his reach and a familiar flash of pink registered in his sight. Blinking, Pica looked up and felt a wash of relief overcome him to see Doflamingo had returned and you were safely in his arms as he sat on the balcony you’d fallen over. He met the gaze of his leader and when Doffy nodded, Pica retreated back into the stone.

Doflamingo watched you carefully as he controlled his breathing to its usual calm; dismissing the adrenaline rush, shake in his limbs and quickened breath to just pushing himself a little harder than usual. Travelling vast distances wasn’t anything new to him but this was the first time in a long while he ensured he broke his personal best to return home. He hadn’t known what he was expecting to find when he was nearing the Palace but seeing you fall hadn’t been on his list. Blearily your eyes opened, your usual bright and sharp gaze was hazy and dulled with pain and confusion as you managed to focus on his face. “Back early…” Your voice was so weak and exhausted that even speaking those two words left your breathing tight and rapid. “M-miss me?”

Wordlessly Doflamingo rose from the balcony and carried you back to your bed. In the short distance you were incapable of keeping your focus on anything. Your vision blurred and although your eyes stung and felt so heavy you couldn’t keep them closed for long before they were slowly opening again. You barely registered Doflamingo had you back in your bed and settled against your pillows until the intense wave of pain slammed against your skull. It was so sudden and caught you off guard that you curled in on your side, hand pressed against your head. The shock had also forced you to take a sharper breath than your distressed lungs were capable of and brought on a coughing fit, sending more and more pain through your body as you struggled to calm yourself and find your breath again. When it finally subsided your body slumped against the bed. Distantly you heard the muffled sound of your door opening and a yelp of surprise coming from outside.

“Yo-young master!” the servant squeaked as they recovered from their initial shock at the abrupt opening of the door and seeing their King appear. While his return hadn’t been anticipated until the next day it was even more shocking that he appeared from his soulmate’s bedroom. “Welcome back!”

“Shut up.” Doflamingo snapped sharply, the cold intensity rolling from his body enough to make the servant fear for their life and scramble to bow lowly. “Get the palace doctors here now.”

“A-all the-”

“Did I stutter?” The low eerie calm of Doflamingo’s deep voice caused the servant’s blood to drain from their face as pure fear caused their body to grow rigid. They didn’t want to disobey his order when he was in a good mood and they certainly didn’t want to go against him now when he was like this but they just couldn’t force their body to move. The servant flinched when Doflamingo’s hand flexed, knuckles cracking in agitation. “Maybe I need to give you the right incentive since my orders aren’t enough. Are you wanting to go to them in one piece or bloodied and broken?”

“Behave…Doffy.” At the sound of your trembling, feeble voice from the doorway, Doflamingo’s hand twisted and ready to attack dropped to his side and his head snapped to look at you leaning weakly against the doorway. You already looked worse than you had in the short amount of time since he’d caught you. Your skin looked waxy and held the sickly sheen from the effort and strain coughing and struggling out of bed had caused. Swallowing harshly you looked to the servant, managing to pant out a quick. “Go.”

Your appearance snapping Doflamingo’s overbearing aura away from the servant was enough to make the poor soul snap back to reality. Rambling out apologies, the servant turned on their heel and hurried through the corridors to the doctor’s quarters. Not caring about the time or if they were sleeping they were going to frantically bang on their doors, reporting to them all that Doflamingo needed them immediately. While the servant was gone Doflamingo strode to your side as you gripped the doorframe tightly to remain standing. He saw how much you were struggling, your fingers trembled as they bit into the wood and your legs looked like they could give out at any moment. A sour taste filled Doflamingo’s mouth as he took in the sight and considered what he was to do. Instead he focused only on his anger, that he was able to handle. “Why did you get out of bed and interfere with how I deal with my servants?”

“Like being…difficult.” You managed out before tensing as another harsh cough rose in your agonised lungs and forced itself from your lips even though the pain was so great you wished to give your lungs a break. Your breath hitched in the final harsh cough and Doflamingo tensed when blood splattered agains the white marble floor. Shakily you released the doorframe to wipe your mouth but even that was too much and your legs buckled only to stop when Doflamingo’s arm caught your waist. Weakly your hand dropped to his wrist and your head fell against his chest. Immediately Doflamingo’s body tensed, feeling how high your temperature was. “Don’t you want a better look?”

“Look at what?” Doflamingo asked tightly, his frustration mounting as the seconds went by with still no sign of his doctors.

“Me.” You sighed, lifting your head to look at Doflamingo. Everything had ebbed back enough and you felt slightly more aware but the exhaustion was getting worse. “Does it match…your dreams? Me in pain.” Doflamingo ground his teeth together, refusing to answer. Not knowing how to answer, not even sure he knew the answer. Thankfully you were too ill to notice as your eyes had already slid closed just as he heard the sound of hurried footsteps drawing closer.

The doctors appeared, fighting off their sleep and disorientation with the sharp clarity of fear of failing Doflamingo. They slid to a stop in front of him and took in the sight of your weakened form and the blood on the floor. You winced at the throbbing pain the sound of their approach brought and cracked your eyes open enough to see you were in bed again, not even aware or having felt being moved. You managed to make out the outline of Doflamingo talking to the newcomers to your room but everything was muffled. Unable to stay awake any longer you finally fell unconscious.

Even sleeping it was evident to everyone you were suffering. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and with a struggling, weak rattle. Your body trembled with the shakes and tremors of chills and a fever fluctuating through you, your eyebrows knit together and expression twisted into distress. Doflamingo sat in his usual seat by the window usually reserved for when the two of you shared meals together as he let the doctors conduct their examinations over you. He’d relayed to them what he’d heard at the Marine base of the illness hitting the island. The doctors under his command had already heard of the mass infection from the papers and knew what symptoms to look for with you.

A low broken whimper sounded from you and Doflamingo’s strings unleashed instantly, connecting to the doctor who held a needle against your arm and kept him firmly in place before it could break your skin. At that the other doctors froze, out of fear of making the wrong move. “Explain yourself.” Doflamingo ordered, fingers arching to tighten the strings just enough for emphasis. “Now.”

“Their body is in pain… my King.” The doctor explained. “We can’t examine them without causing some form of discomfort no matter how gently we act. It’s part of what makes this illness difficult to treat. We need to take some blood to test how far it's progressed.”

“Can’t it be treated without the test or any needles?” Doflamingo asked sparing a glance at your pained features briefly.

“It’ll make an already difficult illness more complicated to treat.” Another doctor spoke carefully. “But between us all we could manage without needles.”

“So do it.” Saying nothing more on the subject, Doflamingo dropped the strings and let the Doctors finish their examination of you while being even more conscientious of how lightly they touched you. The last thing they wanted to risk was another close call with their King’s temper and fearsome ability. Finishing quickly the group managed to work together to quickly administer something to help your pain without waking you or bringing Doflamingo’s wrath on them. Knowing time wasn’t on their side, most of the doctors hurried to begin working on your treatment in their offices while one remained behind, hovering by the door. “What do you want?”

“Do you wish to retire to your own room?” The doctor asked unable to keep the nervousness from their voice. “Myself and the others can rotate and care as needed. You don’t need to be here.” Doflamingo remained in his seat and looked towards your sleeping form. Whatever you’d been given had helped slightly. While you still looked pained and distressed but not to the extent you had been. A rattling wheeze slipped from your mouth and the vein in his head throbbed. He recalled your weak question, asking if seeing you in pain matched his dreams, what he’d hoped for. The answer was no, nothing matched the real thing. Seeing you like this was more visceral now that he’d gotten to feel the tremor in your body and hear the struggle in your breath and see your usually strong and calm features crumpled into this kind of distress. Doflamingo turned his head away and waved at the doctor. “Just get to work.”

At the sound of the door shutting, Doflamingo rolled his neck to let it crack audibly and release the built tension before lightly knocking the wall. “Pica.” The elite officer’s form appeared slowly from the floor until he stood loyally in front of his commander. His steely gaze remained on Doflamingo who continued to look out the window, his gaze on the balcony. “Good work earlier.” He eventually spoke his praise for the usually silent officer.

While Doflamingo didn’t specify, it was clear that had Doflamingo not been there and had Pica not been there, you wouldn’t be lying safely in your bed and the need for doctors wouldn’t have been necessary. He was reluctant to feel relief and look deeper into the feeling it brought that you still lived but still he had to commend his officer for their obedience. “Tell the others that if they need me I’ll be here for the time being.”

Left alone once more, Doflamingo reluctantly looked towards you before dropping his gaze again. Slowly he worked through the information he’d already gathered. His own doctors had told him the illness was difficult to treat. From what he gathered due to the physical pain you were in that even a needle grazing your skin caused you to react, getting treatment would be just as arduous as going through the symptoms and ailments harming you. The conversation he’d overheard with the Marines confirmed many had already died regardless. Which meant even with his doctors there was a chance you would die.

Now begged the question why was he even bothering with letting them treat you? Wasn’t you dying what he wanted? Yes it had to be by his hand but wouldn’t it still count if he ordered those duty bound to help the sick and dying to stop? Wouldn’t that count as your death on his hands? Possibly. Immediately and unwillingly the image of his mother on her deathbed flashed into his mind. She’d suffered for so long, getting weaker and weaker until she had no energy left in her to recover and all because his father was powerless. Doflamingo gnashed his teeth together, refusing to be anything like the man. He wasn’t powerless, he refused to be and you at least deserved a better end than this.

———

“Our main focus is the heart and lungs at present.” You slowly drifted from unconsciousness to the sound of a trembling voice. Whatever you’d been given had dulled the pain slightly but you could feel it already wearing off. “They’re taking the most strain from the illness at the moment but trying to keep things from escalating is difficult. Finding a balance is-”

“Just spit it out already.” Doflamingo’s voice was cold and sharp, his impatience palpable.

“We can’t just force medicine down their throat and expect it to take. In order to get to our main concern there’s other steps we have to take first to ensure the treatment isn’t rejected immediately and worsen their condition while risking further deterioration. This illness makes the body fight against itself. They need to sleep and eat to keep their body strong enough to stomach the medication we need to give them but between the intense physical pain, fever, and inability to swallow it’s difficult and puts them in a vicious cycle that leads to our main concern; the heart and lungs. The stress will mount and increase the pressure and strain.”

“Is there a way to keep them asleep and give them the nutrients from food without forcing them to eat?”

“S-sir…you um instructed us to avoid needles.” The doctor’s voice grew even more frightened and meek. You couldn’t see Doflamingo’s expression but could only imagine what the doctor was facing. “Th-that limits our options considerably.”

“Doc you’re really not helping yourself here. Maybe your negative attitude is having a poor effect on your peers, hm?” Doflamingo mused. “Perhaps I should-”

Doflamingo’s threat was cut off at the sound of your pained groan. Turning sharply he saw you struggling to push yourself up with what looked like the intention of getting out of the bed, your breathing laboured and arms shaking. You blinked when you were being pulled upwards and settled against the pillows propped up behind you. You scowled at Doflamingo as he now sat on your bed, a hand firmly on your shoulder to keep you lying back. “Do I have to tie you to the bed?”

“Not tonight dear, I have a headache.” You quipped back, your voice thick with exhaustion. You took a long breath, pushed his hand away before pressing your fingers against your temple trying to relieve the blinding pain that was rushing back and through your body as the painkillers in your system finally left but it only made it worse. Groaning you dropped your hand and tried to move again, everything was just too much that you felt the desperate urge to try and get away from your own body even though you knew it was impossible. You just wanted to stop feeling so pained and ill and weak. It was just a survival instinct to protect yourself despite your own body being the issue.

Doflamingo saw the distress overcome you and when he saw you try to get out of the bed again he acted without thinking. He pulled you close and moved so your body was against him while settling his hand against your head, moving his fingers against the spot you’d been trying to relieve. Instantly a sigh broke from you and your eyes slid closed. Stronger than the painkillers you’d been given, this removed the agony assaulting you and you fell straight to sleep, your features relaxing. Doflamingo watched the change in you with silent surprise, and released the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Finally aware he was being watched his head snapped up to see the dumbstruck doctor standing there and staring with widened eyes. “My King, I think I can confidently say we’ve found our balance.”

———————————————-

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d-z20 · 4 hours ago

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The Agent Next Door part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: When a ghost from Rio's past resurfaces, the safe haven you’ve built together is threatened. As danger edges closer, your bond deepens in unexpected ways, testing your trust and strength in each other. Amidst fear and uncertainty, you discover just how far both of you are willing to go to protect what matters most.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, smut, fluff ending, fingering (R recv), oral (Rio recv), praise kink, slight power bottom Rio

Words: 4.2k

A/N: The angsty third (and final?) part as promised

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Master List

Under Her Protection

You’re sprawled out on Rio’s couch, nestled comfortably against her side as the TV plays in the background. It’s the kind of night you’ve both come to love—no plans, no rush, just the two of you together, half-watching some crime drama. You can feel the steady rise and fall of her chest as you rest your head there, her arm slung casually around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm.

It’s a rare, peaceful moment, one that you’ve started to cherish more and more. You glance up at her; she looks different like this—softer. The usual tension in her jaw has melted away; her sharp features relaxed in a way you rarely get to see. You smile to yourself, the sight of her at ease filling you with a quiet kind of joy. She’s not just the composed, authoritative FBI agent you first met. Here, she’s Rio—your Rio—and you could watch her like this forever.

You press a kiss to her jaw, feeling her smile against your lips.

“Enjoying the show?” she asks, her voice teasing. You know she couldn’t care less about what’s on the screen, but it’s a running joke between the two of you—mocking the exaggerated, overly dramatic FBI agents depicted on TV.

“Oh, absolutely,” you drawl, playing along. “I just love how accurate it all is. Clearly, every case is solved in a day, and all agents wear heels and leather jackets.”

Rio chuckles, pulling you closer. “It’s ridiculous,” she snorts. “Half of this would get thrown out in court in a heartbeat. And don’t even get me started on the ‘enhance the grainy footage’ bullshit.”

You grin, enjoying the rare, playful side of her. “I bet you’d never pull a stunt like that. The great Agent Vidal would never dream of cutting corners.”

She raises an eyebrow, her smirk sharp. “Oh, you’d be surprised what I’ve pulled off. Sometimes rules are more like... guidelines.”

You laugh, leaning into her, and she squeezes your shoulder lightly. For a moment, everything feels easy—peaceful.

Then her phone buzzes, cutting through the quiet. She lets out a small sigh and picks it up, her expression immediately shifting as she reads the message. The shift is so sudden it makes your stomach drop. Without a word, she gets up and walks to the window, peering through the blinds like she’s expecting to see something—or someone—out there.

“Rio?” You ask cautiously, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer right away, her shoulders visibly tense. Finally, she lets the blinds fall back into place and turns to you, her expression grim. “That was work,” she says, her voice low and controlled. “Someone I put away years ago just got released on parole. He... wasn’t supposed to get out this soon.”

You frown, confused. “Why is that a problem? Didn’t he serve his time?”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she won’t answer. Then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “The last time I saw him, he threatened to ruin my life,” she says quietly. “He’s dangerous. And vindictive. If he finds out where I live... who you are... how much I lov—.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to. The implications hang heavy in the air. You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of the weight of her job and the risks that come with it.

“Hey,” you say softly, standing and moving to her side. “I’m sure it’s fine. He probably doesn’t even know you’re here.”

Her eyes meet yours, and for the first time since you met her, you see real fear there. “Maybe. But I can’t take that chance.” She pauses, her hand brushing your arm. “I want you to stay here. At least until I figure out what’s going on.”

The seriousness in her tone leaves no room for argument, and you nod. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You settle back onto the couch together, but the atmosphere has shifted now, an unspoken tension lingering in the room. Rio keeps her phone close, her other arm wrapped protectively around you, her eyes flicking back to the window every so often.

You try to focus on the TV show, but your thoughts keep drifting. It’s unsettling, this shadow of a threat hanging over the two of you, and you can tell Rio feels it too. Her grip on you tightens every time she hears a noise from outside, her thumb rubbing circles against your arm as if she’s trying to soothe both of you.

Eventually, you turn your head to look up at her. “You know, I don’t need a TV show when I’ve got my own personal action hero right here.”

Rio snorts, shaking her head. “Is that what I am now?”

“Yep,” you say, grinning up at her. “Neighbour, fashion critic, and now... bodyguard.”

She rolls her eyes but leans down to press a kiss to your lips, soft and lingering. “Just stay close, okay?”

You nod, your heart fluttering at the protectiveness in her voice. “I’m not going anywhere, Rio.”

Relief flashes across her face, but it’s fleeting. She takes your hand, leading you to her bedroom without another word. The silence between you is heavy but not uncomfortable—it’s charged, humming with unspoken worry and a need for closeness.

When you get to the bed, her hands are on you immediately, tugging you close. There’s a new intensity to her touch, her fingers gripping your hips firmly, almost possessively. She kisses you hard, like she’s trying to stake her claim, her mouth moving with an urgency you’ve never felt from her before.

“Rio—” you start, but she cuts you off with another kiss, her hands sliding under your shirt, nails raking up your skin. Her lips move to your neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks that you know will last. It’s not just passion—it’s something deeper, rawer. Like she needs to prove to herself that you’re here, that you’re hers.

You let her take the lead, your own hands roaming her body, trying to reassure her in your own way. But she’s relentless, her mouth trailing lower, her teeth grazing your collarbone. She pushes you back onto the bed, her weight settling over you as she pins your wrists above your head.

Her gaze is dark, her eyes searching yours. “I need to know you’re safe,” she murmurs, her voice rough. “I need to feel it.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, and it’s the truth.

Her grip on your wrists tightens briefly before she leans down, kissing you again, slower this time but no less intense.

The night is a blur of heated touches and whispered reassurances, her possessiveness never crossing the line into discomfort. Instead, it leaves you breathless, the depth of her need for you pulling you even closer.

When you finally fall asleep, tangled in her arms, the weight of her protectiveness wraps around you like a shield. Even as your mind drifts, you know this is only the beginning of whatever storm is coming. But with her by your side, you’re ready to face it.

—

You’ve been staying at Rio’s apartment for a week now, and every night, her hold on you seems to grow tighter. Even in her sleep, her arms remain locked around you, as though her subconscious refuses to let you out of her grasp. It’s a level of protectiveness you’re not used to, but you can’t deny how safe it makes you feel.

The days are a strange mix of normalcy and subtle unease. You run errands, cook together, and share quiet moments on her couch. But in the back of your mind, there’s always a faint sense of being watched. You’ve chalked it up to paranoia—Rio’s warning had a way of sticking with you, and you tell yourself you’re just imagining things.

Still, it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling when you start seeing the same person more than once. A tall figure with a hood pulled low over their face, lingering at the edge of your vision. You’ve seen them on the street, at the corner store, and now again as you leave the grocery shop, arms full of bags. You glance over your shoulder, your pulse quickening as you catch sight of them just a few steps behind.

You quicken your pace, gripping the bags tightly. Your heart pounds in your chest as you cut across the street and head for the apartment building. You take a chance and glance back again. They’re still following.

By the time you reach Rio’s apartment door, your hands are shaking so badly you almost drop your keys. You fumble with the lock, finally getting the door open and slamming it shut behind you. You lock it, bolting the deadlock for good measure.

You text Rio immediately: I think I was followed. Just got back. Door locked.

The response comes quickly. Stay put. Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’m coming back now.

You breathe out, trying to calm yourself, but as you read her words, a new sound sends a chill down your spine. A faint rattle at the door.

Your stomach drops, and you freeze, staring at the door as the sound grows louder. It’s not your imagination. Someone’s trying the handle. Your mind races, and you grab the closest thing within reach—a table lamp. It’s not exactly a weapon, but it’ll have to do. Your grip tightens on the lamp’s base as the rattling stops, replaced by a loud bang.

The door crashes open, splintering the frame, and the hooded figure steps inside. They’re taller than you thought, their broad frame filling the doorway as they pause, scanning the room. You take a shaky step back, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice dripping with malice. “Look who’s made themselves right at home. You must be the little pet she’s been keeping around.”

Your mind races, and you instinctively take a step back, trying to put the kitchen island between you and him. “Who the hell are you?” you demand.

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t know me, but Rio does. She’s the reason I spent the last ten years rotting away in a cell. Thought I’d pay her back by taking something she cares about.”

He lunges at you with a knife, and you barely manage to swing the lamp, hitting him across the face. He staggers back, but only for a moment, then charges at you again. You fight back, kicking and screaming, but he’s strong—stronger than you expected. He pins you against the wall, one hand around your throat.

“That’s right, scream for her,” he growls. “Let’s see if she gets here in time.”

You’re gasping for air, your vision blurring, when suddenly, the already broken door is rammed open again, falling off its hinges from the force of the action.

Rio barges in, her gun drawn, her expression a mixture of fury and fear. “Let them go,” she says, her voice deadly calm, the kind that promises retribution.

The man tightens his grip on you, pulling you in front of him as a shield. “Shoot me, and you’ll hit them,” he taunts.

Rio’s eyes meet yours, and you can see the raw, helpless anger there. You’ve never seen her look so terrified.

The man tightens his grip on you, and your vision starts to black. Your pulse pounds in your ears, the lack of air making your limbs feel heavy. Rio stands frozen in the doorway, her gun unwavering, her eyes locked on the man holding you.

“Let them go,” Rio repeats, her voice low and seething with barely restrained fury.

The man smirks, his grip loosening just enough for you to gasp for air. “You really think you’ve got the upper hand here, bitch? You’re so predictable—always running to play the hero.”

Rio doesn’t flinch. “This is the last chance I’ll give you. Let. Them. Go. Now.”

He sneers, then suddenly shoves you away with all his strength. You stumble, hitting the edge of the kitchen counter hard before crumpling to the floor, pain flaring in your side. Rio’s shout of your name echoes through the room, but you can barely focus as you clutch at your ribs, trying to steady your breathing.

The distraction is all Rio needs. She lunges at him before he can turn back to her, knocking the knife from his hand as they crash to the floor. The struggle is brutal—a chaotic blur of punches and grunts as Rio fights with a ferocity you’ve never seen before.

He manages to pin her briefly, his hands going for her throat, but Rio uses the momentum to roll them over, her knee pressing into his chest. She grabs the cuff of his wrist and twists him onto his stomach, forcing him to let out a pained shout as she pins his arm behind his back.

“You should’ve let them go,” she growls, forcing his face against the floor. He thrashes beneath her, but her grip is unrelenting, her strength fuelled by sheer fury.

She pulls her cuffs from her belt, snapping them onto his wrists with a finality that fills the room. She grabs his hair and yanks his head up, knee still pressing into his back. “And now you’re going to pay,” she says coldly before smashing his face into the ground, breaking his nose, and knocking him unconscious.

Her eyes flick to you, her expression softening with worry. “Are you okay?”

Before you can answer, Rio pulls out her phone, calling for backup. Her voice is calm and clipped as she gives the necessary details, but her free hand remains clenched at her side, still shaking from the adrenaline.

When the call ends, she crouches next to you, her hands ghosting over your body, careful not to touch the areas where you’re clearly in pain. “Hey, let me see,” she murmurs, her tone gentle now. “Where are you hurt?”

You wince as you shift, trying to sit up. “Just... my side. Think I hit the counter pretty hard.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she might explode all over again—but she just exhales, brushing a hand over your hair. “Backup’s on the way. He’s not going anywhere. I promise you’re safe now.”

You nod weakly, and she leans closer, her forehead briefly touching yours. The tension in her body doesn’t ease until the distant wail of sirens signals that help has arrived. Even then, her focus stays on you, her protective presence a shield between you and the man who dared to threaten what she holds most dear.

With the chaos finally under control and the intruder hauled away in handcuffs, Rio keeps a steady arm around you as she guides you back across the hall to your apartment. You can still feel the tremors in your hands, the echo of fear and adrenaline in your veins, but her presence is grounding.

As the door closes behind you, she doesn’t let go. Instead, she leads you to the couch, sitting beside you with her arm securely around your shoulders. “You okay?” she asks softly, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You nod, leaning into her touch. “Yeah. Just... processing.”

A flicker of guilt crosses Rio’s face. “I never should’ve left you alone.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you reply, reaching up to squeeze her hand. “And you came back in time. That’s what matters.”

She exhales heavily, her arms tightening around you protectively. For a while, neither of you speak, the silence broken only by the rhythmic sound of her breathing. Then she shifts, her thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I mean it, though—I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. The truth is, you don’t mind the idea of her staying close.

As the evening wears on, you begin to feel a sense of normalcy returning. Wrapped in her arms, you finally let your guard down, the weight of the day melting away. You tilt your head up to meet her gaze, your heart skipping as you notice the way she’s looking at you—soft yet intent.

“You’re staring,” you tease, your voice quiet.

“Can’t help it,” she murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”

Your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, her lips capture yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, like she’s savouring every moment. You respond eagerly, your fingers tangling in her hair as she shifts to deepen the kiss.

Somehow, the two of you end up lying on the couch, her body pressing against yours as your hands roam freely, exploring the familiar territory with renewed fervour. She pulls away just long enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against yours. “Bedroom?” she whispers, her voice husky.

You nod, your heart racing as she helps you to your feet. The walk to the bedroom is brief, but each step feels charged with anticipation.

You guide her to the bed, her hand sliding into yours as you both move with an unspoken understanding. She lets you press her down gently so she’s sitting on the mattress, her signature smirk tugging at her lips. “So, this is how it’s going to be tonight?” she teases, her voice low, challenging but still laced with warmth. Her eyes glint with curiosity, though you can sense she’s enjoying this shift in control. “Guess I can let you take the lead. Just this once.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, leaning down to press a playful kiss to her lips. “Call it a thank you for saving me. Hero perks, right?” You reply, your voice just as teasing.

Her chuckle rumbles low in her throat as her hands settle lightly on your hips, grounding you. “You’ve got an interesting way of saying thanks,” she murmurs, tilting her head to expose her neck—an invitation and a challenge all at once. “But I’m not complaining.”

You take her challenge with a grin, leaning down to press your lips to her neck, your kisses starting soft but quickly growing more heated. You find the spot just below her ear where her skin is most sensitive, and when she lets out a low, pleased hum, you focus your attention there. Your tongue darts out, followed by a sharp nip of your teeth, before you suck on her skin, leaving a mark to match the ones she gave you just nights ago.

She tilts her head back with a soft gasp, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips. “You’re getting good at that,” she murmurs, her tone teasing but breathless. Her words spur you on, and you trail more kisses down her neck, each one deliberate, each one claiming her in your own way.

As your lips continue their path, your hands slide over her body, unbuttoning her shirt and tugging it off. Your eyes roam her, taking in every inch of her toned body and the way her muscles flex under your touch.

“Enjoying the view?” she teases, arching a brow, but there’s a flush on her cheeks that betrays her confidence.

“Absolutely,” you reply without hesitation, earning a quiet laugh from her.

Your hands move to the waistband of her pants, your fingers brushing against her skin as you pull them down, leaving her bare before you. You grab her hips, pulling her into you so she’s perched on the edge of the bed, your legs pushing her knees further apart. Her dark eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of anticipation and challenge, and you can’t help but feel a surge of affection and desire for her all at once.

“You look good like this,” you say softly, your hands trailing up her thighs as you kneel between them.

Rio leans back on her palms, her smirk widening. “Show me just how grateful you are, sweetheart.”

Looking directly into Rio’s eyes, you drag your tongue through her wetness.

“That’s it,” she breathes, her voice huskier now. Her nails coming to dig lightly into your shoulder as her body shifts beneath you.

Hooking your arms under her legs, you push your face further into Rio, tongue pressing firmer against her clit and she rolls her hips at the sensation. Your tongue swirls over and around her bundle of nerves, eliciting more praise. “You’re so good at this, sweetheart,” she says, her tone uncharacteristically tender.

The praise makes your stomach flip, and you press your thighs together, feeling your arousal soak your underwear.

You notice the subtle change in her demeanour, her usual teasing grin replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Her hands grip you tightly, but there’s a gentleness to her touch you hadn’t expected. “I don’t give up control often. But with you... it feels right.” Her voice falters slightly, and the admission makes your heart ache with tenderness.

As her orgasm builds, she finally lets go entirely, her usual defences falling away. Her head tilts back, her breathy praises and quiet gasps filling the space. After she reaches her peak, she pulls you up to her, her arms wrapping around you tightly as if grounding herself. “You’re incredible,” she whispers into your ear, her lips brushing against your temple as she catches her breath. “But don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

Her smirk returns, this time sharper, more determined. Before you can respond, she drags you down on to the bed, flipping you gently onto your back. Her strength is firm but careful, her lips curling in amusement at your surprised expression. “Your turn,” she murmurs, her voice low and promising. She begins to trail kisses down your body, her actions deliberate and knowing. “Let me show you how grateful I am,” she adds, her grin growing as your body arches beneath her touch.

With that, she strips you, her soft hands feeling all over your body. When her fingers trail up your thigh, she lets out a soft chuckle at the feeling of your arousal dripping. “Seems like someone enjoyed the praise.”

You whimper as her fingers press lightly against your clit.

“You made me feel so good, baby.” Her middle finger slides lower. “Such a clever girl.” She teases your entrance. “You know exactly how I like it.” She pushes her finger in.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you moan as it curls inside you. “More.”

Rio slides another finger in, biting her lip and groaning at how easily you take it. "Oh, darling, you’re taking me so well,” she praises, starting to pump her fingers in and out. She adds a third, and you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach. She picks up the pace, fucking all of the tension from the night out of you both. “You look so good like this,” she coos.

Arching into her touch, head pushing into the mattress, you keen, “Oh fuck. Rio, you’re going to make me cum.”

“That’s it, sweetheart; you’re doing so well, cum for me,” she whispers against your skin, kissing your neck.

Your mouth falls open, a breathless cry escaping as your orgasm overtakes you. The tension that had been building within you shatters, a wave of heat and pleasure coursing through your body. You arch into her, every nerve alight, the sensation so overwhelming that it renders you momentarily weightless. A strangled gasp follows, your voice raw and unrestrained, her name slipping from your lips like a plea and a prayer all at once.

—

Later, as the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, Rio’s arms wrap tightly around you, holding you, refusing to let go. The tension of the night seems to fade, replaced by a sense of closeness you hadn’t fully realised until now. She presses a kiss to the top of your head, her fingers tracing absent patterns along your back.

“You know,” she begins softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t usually do this—let people in, I mean. I don’t let myself feel this way.” She hesitates, her grip on you tightening slightly. “But with you... I can’t imagine not having you here.”

Your chest tightens at her words, and you tilt your head to meet her gaze. The raw vulnerability in her eyes makes your heart ache. “Rio...” you begin, your voice trembling slightly as your hand brushes against her cheek. “I love you.”

Her lips part in surprise, and then her smile grows, soft and genuine in a way you rarely see. “Took you long enough to say it,” she teases, though her voice is thick with emotion. She leans down, brushing her lips against yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender. When she pulls back, her eyes lock with yours. “I love you too, you know.”

You crack a small smile. “So, I guess you’re gonna be the one crashing at my place now, huh? Seeing as it’s your door that got kicked in this time,” you say, breaking the tender moment.

Rio blinks at you, then lets out a soft laugh. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you reply, grinning now.

63 notes · View notes

albertstrustie · 12 hours ago

Text

Another Simon/Ghost fanfic piece. Hope you like it. A bit of a long read.

—

Your heels clacked against the cement stairs of the porch, the sound bouncing off into the clear night. You didn’t even wait for the Escalade to stop completely before flinging the door open and storming out. Behind you, Simon didn’t bother turning off the headlights or rolling up the windows—he threw the car into park and dashed after you. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. If you did, who knows what else you’d do.

His footsteps pounded against the ground behind you, matching his labored breathing as you fumbled with the keys at the front door. Your hands trembled—not just with anger but fear. You’d never seen Simon this furious. The sharp scrape of metal finally met the lock, and you twisted it just as his heavy steps reached the porch.

You shoved the door open and bolted inside, slamming it behind you. The solid thud should’ve been a reprieve, but it wasn’t. His broad arm shot through the gap, wedging the door open with infuriating ease. The force jarred you, but you didn’t look back. You were already sprinting up the stairs, your heart racing faster than your feet as his relentless pursuit followed.

The bedroom door slammed shut an instant before his footsteps thundered up the staircase. It burst open just as violently, the wood splintering against the wall. You tried not to flinch. You stayed rooted in front of the dressing table, staring into the mirror as your chest heaved.

There he was, reflected back at you—Ghost. Sweaty, flushed, chest heaving with frustration. The green irises you knew so well were nearly black, like a storm rolling over an open field, swallowing every trace of light. He’d never been in your room before. The sight of him here, invading your most intimate space, felt like a violation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to leave. Not now when he looked like he was about to rip you to shreds.

He rounded the bed in three swift strides, gripping your arm and yanking you around to face him. “What the hell was that?”

You shoved at his face, a desperate, reckless attempt to create space between you. It was bold—perhaps foolish—but anything less would have been futile against his unyielding strength. His grip didn’t waver, though a low, menacing growl rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating through the air like a warning.

For a tense, electric moment, you thought he wouldn’t let go, that his hold on you would tighten until you broke. But then, with a sharp exhale, his grip loosened, and his hands fell to his sides. He took a step back, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he dragged air into his lungs. The distance between you should have felt like a victory, but all you felt was an aching void.

The fight drained from you, leaving behind only exhaustion. Nothing about tonight made sense—not the mission, not Simon, and definitely not the decision you’d made.

That decision being the kiss.

The memory burned hot, searing through you like a brand. Kissing your fake bodyguard in the middle of an undercover operation wasn’t just careless; it was insane. But watching that spoiled socialite touch him—leaning in too close, her ruby, plump lips brushing his ear as she whispered—had been unbearable. And the way Simon smiled back at her, charming and unreadable, made you snap.

Simon? Smiling? Absolutely not.

You didn’t care if it was part of the mission.

You didn’t care that you’d made a scene. All you cared about was erasing that smile and replacing it with something real. And in the moment, the only thing you could think to do was grab his face and kiss him like your life depended on it.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, he kissed you back. But then, it came to an end, just as quickly as it began. So you ran towards the exit, shaken up and utterly mortified.

Now, in the suffocating silence of your bedroom, there was no escape and Simon was a storm barely contained, his body vibrating with restrained anger. But you knew, he wanted that kiss just as much as you did; you could see it right now, the way his chest heaved and his fists clenched at his sides as if to restrain himself from touching you.

His whole body was taut, strung tight like a bow. And the adrenaline coursing through you, made you feel like a live wire, sparking and crackling with need. “Answer me!” he bellowed, his voice thunderous. “Why in the fuck would you—”

Something knocked the sense put of you again and you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again, pouring every ounce of anger, frustration, and longing into it. There was no hesitation this time. Simon’s hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth claimed yours, hard and hungry.

His lips were hot, insistent, and demanding, a perfect mirror of the fire burning in your chest. He kissed you like he wanted to devour you, and you let him, your hands tangling in his hair as you backed toward the bed. When your knees hit the edge, you fell, but Simon caught himself, landing on his palms above you.

He hovered for a moment, staring down at you, his pupils blown wide and his breath ragged. You thought he might stop—that the realization of what was happening would bring him back to his senses. But then his mouth was on yours again, urgent and consuming, and every coherent thought fled.

You arched into him, your dress riding up your thighs as his weight pressed you into the mattress. His hands roamed over your body, rough and searching, tracing every curve like he was committing you to memory. When his hips ground against yours, the hard line of his cock pressing into your core, you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Simon,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. His mouth moved to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You tilted your head back, giving him access, your fingers threading through his hair as a low moan escaped your lips.

It was too much, but not nearly enough.

Your legs wrapped around his hips tighter, locking him in place, and your arms clutched him even tighter, anchoring yourself to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from unraveling. You didn’t care about the way his heavy weight pressed you into the mattress, the way his fingers gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise. You didn’t care about the small gasps escaping your lips every time he ground against you, or the burning heat building between your bodies.

You couldn’t care—not when he felt like this.

One of his hands slid from your hip to your chest, his palm sweeping over the curve of your breast. He cupped it through your dress, his thumb brushing over the peak before squeezing. A deep groan tore from his throat as he pulled back, staring at you with an expression that bordered on disbelief, as if he couldn’t fathom that this moment was real.

Then, with a feral growl, he grabbed the front of your dress and ripped it open. The sound of tearing fabric filled the room, leaving you breathless and exposed, your lace bra bared to him. Maybe another time you would’ve teased that he could’ve simply pulled down the absurdly expensive dress, but now was definitely not the time.

The sharp sound of the fabric tearing made your heart stutter, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But it wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t regret. It was everything—every emotion you couldn’t name threatening to spill over. Maybe you too couldn’t believe this was happening.

You barely noticed his fingers deftly working at the clasp of your bra, too caught in the way he looked at you, like a starving man about to devour his first ever meal. By the time you realized it, the bra was already unhooked, sliding from your body before being tossed carelessly to the floor.

His mouth found your nipple, sucking hard as his tongue swirled over the sensitive peak. The sharp jolt of pleasure tore through you, and you cried out, your back arching as heat coursed through your veins.

It felt like you were being touched for the first time, as if virginity had been restored and this was your initiation. Every nerve in your body was alive, your skin burning beneath his touch. His tongue scorched, his fingers left electric trails wherever they wandered. You were ablaze, consumed entirely by him.

He shifted to your other breast, dragging his tongue in a slow, teasing stripe along the underside before sucking the other nipple into his mouth. His hands gripped your waist with bruising intensity, anchoring you in place as his hips ground against yours. Words dissolved on your tongue, replaced by gasps and moans that spilled from your lips, raw and unrestrained.

For once, there was no mask, no performance—only you, stripped bare in every sense of the word. It had never been like this before, it’s never been this overwhelming. Your body wasn’t yours anymore; it was his, and in this moment, the world narrowed down to Simon.

One hand slid lower, cupping your pussy, a groan rumbling from his chest. "You're so fucking wet," he muttered against your breast, his voice rough and gravelly.

His fingers pressed against your soaked panties, the damp fabric only amplifying the friction as he rubbed slow circles over your throbbing core. The sensation made you want to cry out and were about to ground yourself against him—but he didn’t give you the chance.

With a sharp pull, he tore away the rest of your ruined fabric of your dress, stripping the first barrier from your skin. The shredded remnants joined the growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

His eyes dropped to your panties, a pathetic scrap of lace that barely concealed anything. His breathing stumbled and he grabbed them and ripped them clean off with a swift, brutal tug. The motion lifted your hips off the bed before your back fell against the mattress once more, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

You should have felt exposed, vulnerable—but instead, you were nothing but raw, aching need. Seeing his eyes darken as he took in every inch of you, his gaze hungry and possessive, only made you feel more alive. You couldn’t be happier to be rid of those scraps of fabric, nude and aching beneath him, ready for whatever came next.

A shiver ran down your spine, a chill spreading over your overheated skin as his hands roamed over your bare ass and thighs. He was so strong, his hands so sure and confident. You wondered if this was simply who he was—if he’s always been this commanding, this powerful—or if it was just you, the way your body reacted to him, helpless against the pull.

A small part of you tried to rationalize it, telling yourself it was proximity, nothing more. Working with him, being forced into close contact and moments of manufactured intimacy for the sake of the mission—surely that was why you felt this way. Why your pulse raced at his touch.

But deep down, you knew that was a lie.

This wasn’t just circumstance. From the very first day, when he’d drawled, “Simon Riley” in that thick Mancunian accent, your thighs had clenched, and a heat you couldn’t ignore had bloomed inside you. You’d wondered then—against all reason—what he looked like naked, what it would feel like to have those strong, capable hands on your body.

And now you knew.

Your head was a muddle of lust and want and for a brief moment, a flicker of shame tried to surface. Simon had never seen you like this; he hadn’t even seen you in a bikini—but it vanished the second his mouth descended on you. His tongue slid through your folds, burying itself in your heat, and all you could think about was how good he made you feel.

Nothing else mattered. Not the mission, not your pride, not the fact that this was Simon. All that existed was the relentless pleasure, the way his tongue moved against you, the way he made you burn hotter and brighter than you ever thought possible.

You were lost in a haze of ecstasy, your hands gripping his hair and shoulders as if they were the only things tethering you to reality. His mouth worked relentlessly, driving you closer and closer to the edge. When he groaned against your clit, the vibrations shot through your body, making you writhe beneath him.

There was a ferocity in the way he touched you, a hunger that bordered on desperation. This wasn’t his first time doing this—you weren’t naive enough to think otherwise—but the thought barely registered amidst the tidal wave of pleasure crashing through you. Any pang of jealousy or anger was drowned out by the sobs of ecstasy spilling from your lips.

His tongue flicked your clit with quick, precise strokes, each one sending a fresh jolt of electricity through your core. Your body bowed, and you gasped as he slid a finger into your tight heat, the sudden fill making your walls flutter around him.

He moved with purpose, his finger curling to find that spot deep inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. His tongue never faltered, his rhythm relentless as he coaxed you higher.

When he added another finger, the stretch was overwhelming, teetering on the edge of too much and not enough all at once. You bucked against him, desperate to take him deeper, to feel more, but he growled—a low warning that sent a thrill through you. His free hand stayed flat against your abdomen, holding you firmly in place.

Your orgasm hit you like a lightning strike. It ripped through you, white-hot and paralysing, leaving your body trembling and your pussy clenching around his fingers. Your cries filled the room as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you utterly undone.

But he didn’t give you time to recover. Before you could even catch your breath, he had you on all fours, his strong hand wrapping around your hair as he positioned himself behind you.

You felt him line up, the thick head of his cock brushing against your dripping, throbbing cunt. You were desperate for him, aching to feel him stretch you, fill you, bury himself so deeply inside you that there would be no space left between you.

His grip on your untamed curls tightened, his breathing heavy and uneven as he held himself steady. You braced yourself for that blinding pain right before the pleasure you knew only him could probably give you.

But then his grip on you loosened, and his fingers came around to brush against your cheek in the softest, most unexpected caress. The tenderness of the gesture sent a jolt through you, stealing your breath and making your heart clench.

“I... don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice rough but laced with a vulnerability that cut through the haze of desire. It was as though the shame you tried so hard to bury was something he could see, something he couldn’t ignore.

You tipped your forehead into your forearms, overwhelmed by the quiet sincerity in his words and the unspoken emotions behind them. Your heart swelled, the feeling both exhilarating and terrifying, but the ache inside you demanded more.

“Please!” you choked out, slamming your palm onto the mattress in desperation. “Please, Simon. Fuck me. I need you!” Your shoulders shook with sobs, your voice thick with a pathetic need you could no longer hide.

A beat passed—a moment stretched taut with anticipation—and then he drove into you. One powerful thrust and his cock stretched you, filled you so perfectly, so completely, that the breath was punched from your lungs and you jolted forward, burying your face in the pillows.

Your body welcomed him eagerly, your walls clamped around his thick length as they adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. The scream that tore from your throat was muffled by the fluff of the pillows, but it couldn’t drown out his groan as you pushed back and buried him to the hilt.

The pressure was maddening, the fullness dizzying. Rocking back against him, you met his thrusts, your movements frantic and unrestrained. His fingers dug into your hips with bruising force, holding you steady as he matched your pace.

The room was heavy with the scent of sex, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin filling the air alongside the creak and squeak of the bed frame straining beneath you. His chest brushed against your back as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, his voice dark and laced with hunger. “Me, fucking you like this?”

Words failed you, dissolving into desperate, incoherent whimpers as his pace increased and his palms kneaded your breasts. His cock pistoned in and out of you, the friction stoking the fire inside you until it consumed everything else. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, driving you mad with the sheer intensity of it all.

Like everything between you two, this felt like a challenge—a battle of wills wrapped in pleasure. You knew it was his competitive streak, the need to make you come faster, harder than before. There was no question he would win, but some part of you still wanted to hold out, to last just a little longer than the first shattering orgasm he pulled from you.

But Simon didn’t make it easy.

He fucked you with a savage, unrelenting intensity, his cock hitting every spongy spot inside you. His hips slammed against your ass, his hands gripping you so firmly it felt like his touch had become a part of you, like there was no line where his skin ended and yours began.

You were a mess—sweaty, writhing, utterly undone by his body. Your walls clenched, squeezing him so tight it bordered on painful. But the sting only added to the pleasure, making you feel like you were coming apart at the seams.

You tried to push back against the inevitable, to delay the explosion building inside you, but it was useless. He was everywhere—in you, around you, overwhelming you with his presence until there was no escape. The pressure inside you reached a breaking point, unbearable yet exquisite, until it finally snapped.

The tidal wave of pleasure crashed over you, drowning you in its force, washing away every shred of control. You cried out, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a plea, a desperate, breathless surrender.

In a second, Simon reduced you to nothing more than trembling limbs and shaky breaths, a heap of bone and flesh barely clinging to coherence. If his arm hadn’t wrapped securely around your middle, you would have collapsed into the sheets, maybe even rolled off the bed entirely.

His hold steadied you, grounding you as he continued to thrust into your overstimulated, quivering cunt. Your nails clawed at the sheets beneath you, twisting the fabric in your grip as the waves of ecstasy refused to ebb.

“There you go, baby. That’s it,” he murmured, his voice husky and thick with satisfaction.

Oh, how you wish you could say something snarky right now! But you couldn’t. Not when your legs shook uncontrollably, your heart raced like it might burst, and your lungs burned for air.

All you could focus on was him—the man who had infuriated and fascinated you in equal measure. The man you’d secretly wanted all along, even when you were trading sharp insults and cold glares. Every mission, every conversation, every moment of tension between you had led to this.

To this blinding flash of euphoria that obliterated your vision, to this moment where your mind went completely blank. For a brief, exquisite second, it felt like you’d died and been reborn, baptized in the overwhelming ecstasy that coursed through your veins.

As your vision returned and the last waves of pleasure ebbed, Simon pulled out, leaving you empty and aching. The absence was startling, a void you felt deep in your core. His hands gripped your hips gently, flipping you onto your back as if you weighed nothing.

Before you could figure out what was happening, his lips were on yours, crashing into you with a wild, ferocious passion, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. His hands interlocked with yours above your head and his cock found its home again, sliding into your slick heat as if he’d been moulded just for you.

And if you were being honest with yourself, he probably was made for you.

Because up until now, sex was nothing but something transactional, a means to an end. It had never felt like this. Like the whole world was spinning out of control, and the only thing keeping you from falling apart was his touch, his lips, his body. Like you would die if he stopped kissing you, if his breath stopped caressing your skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he pushed into you again. His thrusts were slower this time, deep and measured, as if he was savouring every second. His hands came down to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your damp cheeks softly, revealing a side of Simon you never imagined you’d witness.

But here he was. Here you two were. Naked, unguarded, lost in the depths of something far more dangerous than lust. And you wanted it. You needed it, damn it.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breaths coming in heavy, ragged pants. The space between you all but vanished, and you stared into his eyes, your heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. His gaze pinned you in place—intense as ever, but now tinged with a tenderness that shattered whatever fragile wall you’d been clinging to.

The dam broke, and the tears fell freely.

Simon leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth in a feather-light kiss that travelled all across your face. The gesture was so gentle, so intentional, it nearly undid you all over again.

His hips faltered, his rhythm stumbling, and then he was gathering you into his arms. He pressed himself tightly against you, his weight grounding you in a way that felt like safety and surrender all at once. His face buried in the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and uneven against your skin.

You clung to him, your bodies entwined so completely that you wondered how you’d ever untangle yourself. Your fingers threaded through his damp tendrils as he began to let go. “Baby…” he grunted, his voice low and strained—a question for permission.

“I’m on the pill,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Do it. Please.”

A guttural groan rumbled through his chest, and his hips snapped into yours, his rhythm quickening with a newfound urgency. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your cries against his slick skin. He smelled of salt and sweat, musk and wind, a scent that reminded you of the ocean crashing against the shore.

Then, all at once, he shattered. His body stiffened, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled himself, marking you as his. Your name fell from his lips in a broken mantra, each syllable reverberating through your very soul. You realized, in that moment, how beautiful your name sounded when it came from him.

His weight collapsed onto you, his chest rising and falling against yours as he fought to catch his breath. His lips brushed the hollow of your throat in a lingering caress, and you ran your fingers through his hair, pressing your lips to his damp forehead. He nuzzled into your neck, the scratch of his beard sending shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips.

A quiet contentment settled over you, the silence heavy with meaning. There was nothing to say, nothing to explain. You simply lay there, wrapped in each other, your bodies tangled like you belonged this way.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, breaking the stillness.

He groaned, shifting the both of you under the sheets, his strength effortless as he moved. When he slipped out of you in the process, you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the warm, comforting weight of his arms wrapping around you. He pulled you into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Don’t be,” he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and sincerity. “It was the best fuck-up you’ve ever done.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, muffled against his chest. He chuckled softly in return, the vibrations soothing in their intimacy. His hand traced lazy patterns down your spine, anchoring you to him.

“Together,” he murmured, his voice dipping as sleep began to claim him.

You wanted to ask what he meant, but before you could, he repeated it, this time more assured. “We’re together.”

And in those two words, you understood everything.

“Together,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering shut as his warmth enveloped you.

Safe in his arms, you let sleep pull you under, carrying you into a dreamless, contented oblivion.

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