#look at the boy!!!!!! he is such a wonderful boy . I love him

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Older"

ok yall! i couldn't stop thinking of neglected Reader falling for Clark Kent, so instead of writing a new chapter of "I bet on losing dogs" I wrote an AU!!! Batfam's neglect stays till reader is 18, Tiffany isn't exposed till later. I got kinda carried away tbh! Remember, THIS IS AN AU!!!! Ya'll aren't ready for this plot actually. Or who really steals readers heart. Thank you to the wonderful anon who sent me down the rabit hole of this man. Reader is 18 when the romance actually starts.

When you were younger, you had always idolized Superman. Clark Kent, the unassuming, nerdy reporter with glasses, was a far cry from the intimidating presence he became when he donned the cape. You first saw him when you were 9, during a charity event your father had taken you to. At first, you thought he was just another well-dressed man who smiled too much. But then, when he lifted a car to save someone from an accident, you felt something shift in your chest.

That’s it, you thought. That’s what I want. I want him.

From that day on, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he saved people with a smile, how gentle his voice was. You’d daydream about being near him, holding his hand, his deep blue eyes looking down at you with affection. But Clark never saw you that way. To him, you were always just Bruce Wayne’s little girl—the kid he barely knew.

Maybe it was a result of being neglected by every man in your life that made you so feral for Clark Kent. Maybe it was the fact that he was the only person you knew who didn't prefer Tiffany to you. Whatever it was, it didn't matter, he'd never feel the same.

So, you pushed your feelings aside.

Or at least you tried to.

You’d flirted with boys before. You’d flirted with grown men. With your powers, you needed an outlet, a way to let go of your frustrations, to feel good. You lost your virginity only days after gaining your powers. It felt amazing, during those moments you were in control of your body, the pain went away, the neglect went away and you were loved.

But nothing had ever been like the times you found yourself in Clark’s presence. At 16, you’d started testing the waters, teasing him with subtle remarks. You’d gotten a little bolder in your attempts over the years, but he always brushed them off as playful jokes.

"Don’t you think you’re a little young for me, kiddo?" he’d chuckle every time you got close.

You hated that. He saw you as a kid. That was it.

But you didn’t stop. Because you were determined.

And by the time you turned 18, the world around you had shifted. You had grown into someone new, more mature, more confident. Your body had changed. Your personality had changed. But Clark... he still looked at you like you were that little girl from all those years ago.

It hurt. But you told yourself, Just be patient. It’ll come around. I just need more time.

You soon realized time was too long. Clark would never see you as anything more than a kid, he literally had children your age. He was old enough to be your father. His youngest son had a crush on you and Clark is a good man. He would never consider you romantically.

You couldn't keep chasing after another unrequited love. Not after years of chasing your family's. Not after years of being pushed aside for an imposter who always outsmarted your attempts to expose her.

You wanted to move on. To leave everyone behind.

And that's what you did. There was no dramatic breaking point, no emotional stand-off. You were looking out your window one day and you realized you've done nothing. You've never been happy, never once truly happy, you lived for everyone but yourself. Not anymore. One random sunny Tuesday, the summer after you graduated highschool, you packed up and left everything behind, no goodbyes. Not even a note for Alfred. None of them deserved it.

You were tired, tired of chasing people.

You wanted to be chased and that's what you got. Every week it was someone new, your professor, your friends, your boss, anyone who was attracted to you, you slept with. It was so freeing. It was euphoric, making them fall in love, leading them into your bed, then kicking them out as soon as the next one came along.

The only thing that you truly loved now was music, it was all that got you through years and years of mistreatment. No matter what happened in the manor, you could turn your headphones on and forget. You could grab your guitar and strum your worries away.

College sucked. Long ago, you would've pushed yourself to go, even though you hated it, just to make your family proud. To chase approval you would never get. Not anymore, you knew you needed a degree to make a living, but a gap year never hurt anyone.

You began working as a singer in different bars. It let you write songs and make money. There was nothing more addicting than feeling eyes on you, enchanted by you. Your voice was magnetic, drawing people in, and like any good predator, you feasted on their hearts and left as soon as they stopped inspiring you. Yet, no matter how good-looking or good in bed they were, they would never be Clark.

One night, after a few months of your reckless, self-destructive pattern, you found yourself in a dimly lit bar on the outskirts of Gotham, a place where nobody would recognize you. You weren't gonna sing, not tonight.

You weren’t here to find love, you weren’t here to talk or connect. You were here to forget.

The clink of glasses and low murmur of conversation surrounded you, but it was the figure in the corner that caught your attention.

A man with a commanding presence sat alone at the bar, his back straight, eyes locked on the dim-lit television above the counter. His hair was peppered with gray, but there was something ageless about the way he carried himself; tough, confident, dangerous. The eyepatch over his right eye only enhanced the mystery, adding a cruel allure to his already intimidating presence.

You couldn’t quite place why you were drawn to him, but the moment you saw him, a spark ignited. Slade Wilson. He worked with Bruce somehow one time, everyone hated him, even Clark. You remembered him because he was the only man, other than Clark, not to fall for Tiffany's charm and that was a win in your book.

You’d heard of him in passing, mostly in rumors—whispers of a deadly mercenary, a ghost in the shadows of Gotham, a man you wouldn’t want to cross. But here he was, sitting like a predator in a place filled with prey.

You weren’t afraid. You never were. You’d been raised in the shadows of Gotham, after all, with men who didn’t even know how to love you. You’d seen dangerous men before. You knew how to handle yourself.

You sauntered over, taking a seat next to him, your movements casual but purposeful. He glanced at you briefly, his lips twitching into the slightest of smirks before his eyes returned to the screen.

"Mind if I join you?" you asked, leaning into the counter, placing your drink beside his.

His gaze flicked toward you again, this time a little longer. There was something predatory in the way he sized you up, assessing your every move. "Not at all."

You smirked, tilting your head slightly. "I’ve been told I’m a good time."

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, but it was cold, calculated. "That so?"

You didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped briefly to your lips, but he didn’t let his attention linger for long. He took a long sip of his drink and leaned back, unbothered, as though you were nothing more than another fleeting distraction.

You were used to this, the indifferent types. But you weren’t going to let him slip away that easily.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who spends his nights in places like this,” you said, turning towards him with a sly grin. “I imagine you’ve got better places to be.”

Slade didn’t look at you when he responded, his voice low and smooth, like gravel being ground underfoot. “I’m where I want to be.”

You laughed, the sound rich and teasing. "So, what does someone like you do for fun, then?"

For a moment, the silence stretched between you, and then he finally turned to meet your eyes, the weight of his gaze making your stomach flutter for reasons you couldn’t explain. "Fun... isn’t what I’m here for."

You let out a slow breath, leaning in a little closer, just enough for the scent of his cologne to hit you, something spicy, with a touch of danger.

"Then what are you here for?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You could see the muscles in his jaw tense slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he met your gaze head-on, his lips curling up ever so slightly at the corners.

"Business."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Business, huh? I love business."

“I'm sure you do�� he said cryptically, but his voice was thick with unspoken meaning.

The tension between you was palpable, electric. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him. It wasn’t just his looks, though they were undeniably attractive in their own gritty, dangerous way. No, it was the way he carried himself, like he was someone who could destroy everything in his path if he wanted.

You weren’t intimidated, though. If anything, it intrigued you more.

You leaned closer, the warmth of your body pressing against his, your breath hot against his ear. “So, what do you do when business is done?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just stared at you, his eyes hard and calculating. And then, before you could react, his lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and dangerous. "You don’t want to know."

You shivered at his words, at the heat of his breath, but you were beyond caring. You were tired of being the one who was always desired but never loved, the one who always chased but was never caught. Tonight, you wanted to be wanted, and you wanted him to want you more than anything.

"Maybe I wanna find out" you breathed, your hand sliding down his arm.

His hand shot out like lightning, grabbing your wrist before you could make contact. His grip was firm, but not painful—just a reminder of his control, of how easily he could break you if he wanted.

“Not tonight,” he murmured, voice rough. "Not the way you think."

You stared at him, uncertainty flickering in your gaze for the briefest of moments. You had gotten used to men not wanting you the way you wanted them, it was all you knew growing up. But now things were different with your abilities. This wasn’t the first time someone had pulled away, but with him, it felt different, like he was holding back, just as much as you were.

You smirked. "What makes you think you can stop me?"

His lips curled again, this time with something darker in his eyes. "Because I’m the one who calls the shots."

A challenge. A warning. And for some reason, that only made you want him more.

Before you could react, he stood up, his hand lingering on your wrist for just a beat longer. "If you’re serious about this, I’ll be at the back exit in thirty minutes."

Then, without waiting for a response, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the bar.

You sat there for a moment, staring after him, the heat of the moment hanging in the air between you.

You weren’t sure whether to follow or not, but you knew one thing for certain: tonight was going to be a night you wouldn’t forget.

And so, you found yourself standing outside in the cool night air, your heart racing. You hadn't planned for this, but somehow it felt inevitable.

When you saw him again, waiting by the dark alley, it was clear this was a man who didn’t let anything slip through his fingers. And tonight, you weren’t going to let him slip away either. You approached him, your steps measured and confident.

He didn't speak immediately, just gave you a slow, knowing smile as you came closer.

This wasn’t the start of a love story. This wasn’t about feelings or connections. This was something darker, something more primal.

This was a game. And you weren’t sure if you were the predator... or the prey.

But you were ready to find out.

The cool Gotham air settled in your lungs as you closed the distance between yourself and Slade, your heels clicking softly on the pavement.

He stood by the alley entrance, leaning casually against the brick wall, his figure lit only by the faint streetlight behind him. The shadows clung to him like a second skin, making his presence feel like an almost dangerous secret—something you weren’t sure you were ready to unravel, but damn, you were more than willing to try.

Slade didn’t say a word as you approached, his one visible eye catching yours with that piercing, unreadable stare of his. You knew that look. It was the same kind of look your father gave you when he had to make tough decisions, when he saw things for what they truly were. Cold, calculating. But this? This felt different. This felt like a challenge. And you were more than ready for it.

“Still think you can handle me?” His voice was low, but it had that same teasing bite, as if he were daring you to prove him wrong.

You were close now—too close for comfort, but you didn’t care. You stepped into his space, the heat of his body now radiating against yours, his scent filling your senses. “I don’t need to handle you,” you murmured, your lips barely brushing his ear as you leaned in. “I think you need to handle me.”

There was a flicker in his gaze, something almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken. He didn’t move away, didn’t flinch like others would have. If anything, the air around you both seemed to crackle with intensity.

“Is that what you think this is about?” Slade asked, his voice rougher now, as though the control he so carefully maintained was slipping just a little. “You’re not the first woman who’s come to me thinking they can make me want them.”

You were sure he was referring to Tiffany, there was no way a man like him ever forgot a name or face. Knowing he knew who you were and knowing he didn't care made you want him more.

You smiled, feeling that familiar rush of excitement surge through your veins. It wasn’t about making him want you. It was about making him need you.

“Maybe,” you said, leaning even closer, your lips almost touching his. “But I’m the first one who might actually make you lose control.”

For a heartbeat, you could have sworn the world around you stopped. Slade’s eye darkened, the intensity in his stare shifting from challenge to something sharper. More dangerous. But there was something else in his eyes now. Something that made your heart race faster than you cared to admit.

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that had your breath hitching in your throat. The familiar spark of danger lit up your skin, and you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let your body melt into his, feeling the pulse of raw, untamed power that radiated off him.

“You think you can push me?” he growled, his voice like gravel, each word like a warning and a promise all at once.

You didn’t answer him right away. Instead, you let your fingers trail across his chest, feeling the ridged muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. Your touch was deliberate, slow, each movement a calculated game of power.

“Maybe I want to push you,” you said softly, your breath a whisper against his neck, “until I break you.”

The grip on your wrist tightened for a split second, his muscles flexing with controlled restraint. For a moment, you wondered if this was where it would end, that he’d push you away, tell you it was all just a game. But when he finally spoke again, his voice was thick with tension.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Slade murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m not sure you know what you’re asking for.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your body pressing even closer to his as your lips hovered dangerously close to his own. “Maybe I don’t,” you whispered. “But I’m willing to find out.”

Slade didn’t move for a long moment, just holding you there in that thin space between danger and desire. And then, finally, he closed the gap, his lips crashing into yours with the force of someone who had been holding back far too long.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was a brutal, desperate collision of mouths, a clash of power and need. You could feel the tension in every muscle of his body as he claimed your mouth, his hands gripping your arms, his touch insistent and almost hungry. But you didn’t break, didn’t pull away. Instead, you kissed him back just as fiercely, hands roaming up his chest to grasp the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer.

For a second, you wondered if this would be the point where you lost yourself to the heat of the moment, but the longer you kissed him, the clearer it became that this wasn’t just about passion. It was about control. About testing boundaries.

And you were willing to play that game, because you were ready to win.

As the kiss deepened, Slade pulled away suddenly, his breath ragged, eyes darker now with desire and frustration. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to someone who didn’t give in.

“Not so easy, is it?” you whispered, your voice rough from the kiss, your body still pressed against his.

He glared at you for a moment, lips curling into a knowing smirk, the kind of smirk that made you feel like you were dancing on the edge of a knife.

“You’re not the first one to test me, Slade said, voice low and dangerous, his hands sliding down your arms with intent. “But you might be the first one who wants to."

Slade didn’t pull back, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm, but his gaze never left yours. His hand, still gripping your wrist, was no longer a force of restraint; it was an anchor, a silent promise of just how far this could go.

The weight of his stare sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure if it was from anticipation or something deeper, something darker that he carried with him, but you felt it in every inch of your body. You weren’t here for games anymore, you were here because you wanted this. You wanted him.

But there was more to it. Something about the way he held you in his gaze told you that, for once, you weren’t in control. Slade Wilson was a man who played by his own rules. And now, you were learning the cost of trying to break them.

He released your wrist with slow precision, letting his fingers linger over your skin for just a second longer than necessary. You could feel the heat of his touch as he took a step back, eyes darkening with a new kind of challenge.

“You really think you’re the one calling the shots here?” His voice was low, rough, as though it had been soaked in whiskey and smoke.

You weren’t about to back down now. You smirked, leaning into him again, almost too close for comfort. “I think I’m just... along for the ride.”

Slade’s lips twisted into something dangerous, a mix of amusement and something else, something far more raw. He took a step toward you, crowding your space, his presence suffocating in the most exhilarating way.

“Not sure you know what that ride entails,” he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, sending another shiver down your spine.

“I’m starting to,” you replied, reaching for him, but this time, you didn’t touch him the way you had before. You trailed your fingers slowly, almost teasingly, down his chest, feeling the firmness of muscle beneath the fabric.

Slade didn’t stop you. His body stiffened, though. Just enough for you to feel that tight pull of control he was holding onto. It only made you want him more. You pressed a little closer, your body brushing against his in a subtle reminder that you were still in the game, too.

“I like doing things i'm not supposed to” you said, your lips grazing his ear as you spoke. “And I think you do, too.”

He stiffened at your words, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, you thought you saw something flash behind his gaze—something far more primal than the cold, calculating predator you’d come to know.

Slade’s hand shot out, gripping your chin with surprising gentleness, forcing you to look up at him. The control was unmistakable in his hold, yet his eyes… his eyes were like a storm just about to break. “Don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

“I never said I did.” Your voice was steady, confident, even though the truth was you didn’t fully know what this was. But you knew what you wanted, and right now, it was him.

He searched your face, his gaze intense, like he was deciding something. just as you thought he might break, he leaned in, closing the gap between you both.

His lips brushed against yours, barely a touch, but enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. For a moment, it was almost like a game of cat and mouse. He was holding back, just enough to make you ache for more.

His lips moved to your ear, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “You should walk away now. Because once this starts, there’s no going back.”

You leaned into him, your breath shaky, but your resolve unwavering. “I never look back. Not anymore.”

Slade didn’t hesitate. His lips crushed against yours with an urgency that felt like a storm breaking free. There was no softness. It was rough, driven by something savage, and it made you lose your breath as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

You felt his hands on you, strong and sure, pulling you into him, his grip possessive in a way that made your pulse race even faster. You let him guide you, let him take the lead—because, for the first time in so long, you didn’t need to be the one in control. You didn’t want to be.

That night, Slade Wilson made you forget about every other man in your life, even Clark Kent.

For the next three weeks, you and Slade continued game of cat and mouse. Every other day, you would go to a bar to play and he would somehow appear in the crowd, like a sailor lured by a siren.

Yet everytime, in the morning when you woke, still hot after the previous nights activities, Slade Wilson was nowhere to be found.

You knew he was too old for you, too rough and unstable, but he could be kind at times, when he wanted.

And he was fun.

And you're sure your family would have a joint aneurysum if they found out.

It was fun until one night, he didn't find you.

Two months later, nothing changed. No word from your 'family' asking where you were, only Alfred's weekly check up, and Damian's insufferable posting of him, Tiffany, and the rest the family having fun without you on Instagram. He didn't even bother to block you.

No word from Slade either, yet you still hoped he would show one night. Seems like you had a thing for men ignoring you.

But tonight, something felt electric in the air.

Slade’s shadow stretched across the dimly lit bar, his presence pulling every ounce of warmth from the room. You hadn’t seen him in two months, not since he’d walked away without a word, leaving you to pick up the pieces of everything. You’d told yourself you didn’t care, that his absence meant nothing. But seeing him again, standing there with that predatory stare of his, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rise in your chest.

You were busy, sure, singing and flirting, giving the crowd exactly what they wanted. But you couldn’t ignore the sudden heaviness in the air. The way the music seemed to fade as his eyes locked onto yours from across the room. The same gaze that had always made you feel like you were his—like he could take whatever he wanted and leave you with nothing.

You kept the smile on your face, tossing your hair over your shoulder, a flirtatious laugh escaping your lips as you tossed a wink at one of the men leaning against the bar. You could feel Slade watching you, not just with his eyes but with every inch of his body. He hadn’t come to listen to the music. He didn’t give a damn about the crowd or the drinks. He was here for you.

And he was pissed.

He approached you with slow, deliberate steps, his frame imposing, his eyes cold with that familiar edge. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble, almost drowned out by the noise of the bar, but it cut through everything like a blade.

“Well, well, well… look at you, darlin’. Didn’t take you long to move on, huh?”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your head high. ��Didn’t realize I needed your permission, babe.”

He ignored the jab, his lips twitching in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Haven’t seen you in two months, and this is what I come back to? You’re out here playing with the other boys now?”

You didn’t flinch. “You didn’t exactly leave me with much of a choice. You were the one who disappeared, remember?”

Slade's gaze hardened, and before you knew it, he was right in front of you, close enough that his breath stirred the strands of your hair. He leaned down, his voice dropping low, rough. “You really think you can just forget about me? Move on with them? Cute little act you've got going, sweetheart, but I can see right through it.”

You pushed back, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just having fun. I’m living my life, Slade. You should try it sometime.”

His smirk curled, but there was no warmth in it. “I don’t need advice from you. And I don’t give a damn about your ‘fun.’” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a brutal grip, pulling you closer. “Where’s your old man? Where’s your daddy been? What about your brothers? Do they even know what the hell you’ve been up to?”

The sharpness of his words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. Slade always knew how to hit you where it hurt, and he wasn’t giving you any room to breathe. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped, but the defiance didn’t reach your voice the way you wanted it to.

“Funny, that’s what I thought you’d say.” He released your wrist, but not before giving it a firm squeeze. “I already know what’s been going on with your family. They’ve been too busy holding onto their precious Tiffany, haven’t they?”

You flinched at the mention of her name. Everyone knew Tiffany was the golden child, the one your family had actually cared about. The one they’d all protected, even when she turned out to be the one using them. You’d known for a while that she was a spy, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

Slade’s eyes glinted with that sharp, calculating look. “You knew what she was doing, didn’t you? All this time, she was playing them like puppets, and now they’re gonna come crawling back, pretending they care. They’ll be looking for you soon enough, you know. Guilt’s a hell of a thing.”

The words sank into you, twisting painfully. You hated how right he was. Your family had always been so focused on Tiffany that they hadn’t noticed how you were slipping through the cracks. And now, with her gone, they were going to realize their mistake. They were going to come for you, but it wouldn’t be because they cared. It would be because they felt guilty.

Slade took a step closer, his hand lightly grazing your cheek, the touch cold and commanding. “They’ll come running for you when they realize what they’ve lost, sweetheart. But don’t fool yourself. It won’t be about you. It’ll be about guilt. About making things right because they fucked up. But you know better than anyone, those kinds of people always forget when the next shiny thing comes along.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. “What do you want from me?”

His smirk widened, his fingers trailing down your jaw with a casualness that made your skin crawl in a way you couldn’t quite explain. “What do I want from you, sweetheart? Maybe just the same thing I’ve always wanted. But let’s be clear: I’m not here to save you from them. Hell, I don’t even know if you want saving.”

You glared at him, feeling the bitter edge of your own anger. “Then why the hell are you here?”

Slade's eyes softened for a brief second—just long enough to make you wonder if this was something more than just a game to him. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the moment was gone, replaced by that familiar coldness. “I’m here because you’re a hell of a lot smarter than they’ll ever give you credit for. And you’re not stupid enough to think you need them. You know they never cared, not really.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. He was right. You did know it, deep down. You’d always known. It stung, more than you cared to admit, but you were done being angry about it.

He leaned in, his lips brushing just below your ear. “When they come, and they will come, you can show them what it feels like to be abandoned. You can make them feel just how you felt. But don’t think for a second you can do it without me.”

You didn’t respond right away, your heart pounding in your chest. He wasn’t offering you a way out, he was offering you a choice. A choice between playing the victim to your family’s guilt, or standing beside him as he carved his own path. Neither option was a clean one, but something about him made it feel like the one you’d always been meant to choose.

Slade stepped back, his eyes scanning you as if he was trying to figure you out. “You’re not like them, sweetheart. And you’re not gonna let them walk all over you. Not this time.”

You finally met his gaze, the anger and frustration swirling in your chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Slade grinned, that predatory, dangerous grin that made you feel like you were in over your head. “Oh, I know more than you think.”

Slade’s presence was suffocating, his shadow looming over you like something darker than the night itself. He’d always had that effect on you, but tonight, with the way he leaned in so close, his words cutting through the air like daggers, you couldn't help but feel a chill creep down your spine.

His eyes never left yours, not for a second, his smirk tightening as if he knew exactly how to push every button. "You know, sweetheart, you always think you’ve got everything figured out, don’t you?” His voice was soft, dangerous, like a whisper in a dark alley. “But you’ve been running from something for a long time. Something you can’t hide from anymore."

You felt your heart beat a little faster, but you refused to show it. You’d dealt with him long enough to know that showing weakness only made him more dangerous. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Slade’s gaze slid over you, dismissive yet calculating. “I think you know exactly what I mean. But let’s not play coy here. You used to be close with Jason. Back when he was alive, at least. You were a team, weren’t you?”

The mention of Jason made your stomach twist, but you clenched your jaw and forced your face into something resembling indifference. You refused to let Slade see you hurt. “What about it?”

“Nothing, just... funny, isn’t it?” Slade’s lips curved into a grin that made your skin crawl. “You two were close. But then, Jason died, and who was left? The family? They couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to you. They didn’t notice when Tiffany came around, and they sure as hell haven’t noticed since.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the truth hitting a little too hard. But you kept your composure, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it stung. “What do you want, Slade?”

His eyes softened just enough to make you think for a second that he might’ve been telling the truth—only for that same grin to return, sharper than before. “What I want? You're not getting it, sweetheart. It’s not about me. It’s about you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out just how much of this conversation was manipulation. And how much was something more... personal? The tension between you two was so thick, it felt like it might snap at any moment.

Slade took a step closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “You’ve been wasting your time, haven’t you? Hiding behind that bar, singing, flirting with men who’ll never understand you. You could do so much more than this, you know. You’ve got potential.”

He said the word like it was something sacred. A promise or a curse, you couldn’t quite decide.

You shook your head, taking a small step back. "I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me what I can and can’t do."

Slade’s eyes darkened, his smirk turning predatory. “Oh, I think you do. I think you want to know. Deep down, you’re craving someone to show you how to unlock it. Your powers. Your real potential. You want something bigger, something more than this.”

Your pulse quickened, and a sickening unease washed over you. How the hell did he know about your powers? How much did he really know? The idea that he’d been watching you from afar, or worse, had been tracking your every move, made your skin crawl.

You tried to push that thought away. “I don’t know what you think you know about me, but you’re wrong. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Slade studied you for a long moment, his gaze never faltering. He was evaluating you, and you could feel the weight of it pressing on your chest. When he spoke again, his tone was almost... too calm, too casual.

“Let’s be real here, darlin'. You do need help. You’ve got power, and I’m not talking about the small-time tricks you’ve been playing with. You could be so much more. But you're stuck. Trapped in this little life you’ve built for yourself because you’re too afraid to face what's really inside you.”

“Why are you even here?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the edge was starting to creep in. You wanted answers, and you wanted them now. “You disappeared for two months, and now you’re showing up like you know everything about me. What’s your game?”

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his figure blocking the dim light above you. “My game? I’m not here to play games. I’m here because I’m offering you an opportunity. An opportunity to stop hiding from yourself. To work with me. To really figure out what you’re capable of. I’ve seen the way you move. The way you think. And I know you’re capable of so much more than this little bar. But you’ll need training. You’ll need guidance. My guidance.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you couldn’t stop the involuntary shiver that ran through you. He was offering you something, something you didn’t quite understand, but the implication was clear: he wanted you to join him. To work together.

But there was something... off. The way he was talking. The way he seemed to know everything about you, the things you hadn’t told anyone, not even yourself.

“How do you know all this?” You demanded, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to sound confident. “How do you know about Jason? About Tiffany? About whats happening to me?”

Slade’s grin widened, a strange glint in his eyes as he leaned in, almost as if savoring the tension. “There's nothing I don't know. I know more than you think. But here’s the thing: you don’t need to understand everything right away. You just need to trust me. Trust that I know what you need. And trust that I can give you what you’ve been searching for. What they could never give you.”

His words were like a knife, each one digging deeper. “I’m not asking for your loyalty. Not yet. But think about it, yeah? I’m offering you something bigger than this... this place, these people. I can offer you something real. Power. Freedom.”

Your eyes were still locked with his, but your mind was racing. You couldn't stop the unease creeping through you. There was a part of you that wanted to know what he meant. Wanted to know how far your powers could go. Wanted to trust him, even though everything in your gut told you not to.

“And what about Clark?” You blurted out, unable to stop yourself. “I’m supposed to just... forget about him too? You don’t think I notice? You think I’m some naive little girl who doesn’t know what’s going on? You think I can't see you using me? Trying to groom me?”

Slade’s eyes flickered, just for a moment, before his lips curled into a snide smile. “Clark.” He scoffed. “The big, shiny boy scout with all the answers. I wouldn’t worry too much about him. You and I both know how far that age gap really stretches. He’s too good for you, always will be.”

He took a step closer, his eyes glinting with something dark. “But me? I don’t need to pretend. I know exactly what you need. And I won’t keep running from it like your little superhero friend. I’m offering you something real, and you’re smart enough to see that.”

His words, sharp and possessive, lingered in the air. You swallowed, your throat dry.

“I’ll think about it.” The words came out more breathless than you intended, but Slade didn’t seem to mind.

“Good girl.” His tone was sharp, like an order, but there was something more in it, something possessive, like a claim. He reached out, his fingers brushing your arm as if he had every right to touch you. And the worst part was, you didn’t pull away.

“Don’t take too long,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear. “I’m not the patient type. And when I come back, you’ll have an answer. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart.”

You hated how that sent a chill down your spine.

OKKKKKK WHAT DO YALL THINK??? IS IT GOOD??? BE HONEST!! I BARELY KNEW WHO SLADE WAS BEFORE THIS SO IT MIGHT BE OOC! REMEBER THIS IS AN AU! SORRY IF THERE'S TYPOS I WROTE THIS ON MY PHONE IN BED. I FEEL LIKE IT SUCKS SO I MIGHT TAKE IT DOWN AND NEVER SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!!!!

[tbaluver]

Hey!

I love your husband/dad version of the love and deepspace boys!

I was wondering if you could do like headcanons or something of them picking out outfits for the baby or babies?

Maybe add Caleb only if you want to or are comfortable with it, I don't see much with him and since he's a new love interest i wonder what it would be like for him?

Love your work!!!

Picking Out Baby Clothes With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader genre/ tags: fluff fluff a/n: hihi my lovely ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ MWAH thank you so much my angel for reading my works !! i love writing them as dads or soon to be dads so much so this was a rlly cute headcanon to write (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ hopefully i did this justice pls lmk but if not ill try to add more later ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ i hope you enjoy reading ! p.s i love ur banner (∩˃o˂∩)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier was in complete awe the moment he stepped into the store with you. Everything looked so small and the thought of your future baby would eventually fit into all these tiny clothes hit him hard. He couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest that his child was already growing so fast and he wanted to savor every moment of it.

Shopping for baby essentials was easy enough but shopping for clothes were a different story. Xavier stood beside you in the baby clothing aisle, looking at the tags with a confused expression. He was unsure if he should show you the 0-3 month size one or the 3-6 month one, so he’ll just grab both sizes and explain to you later that your little one would grow into them eventually. Plus it would look cute to look back on and compare from how much they've grown.

But what really got Xavier were the onesies. He kinda blacked out and picked out so many without even realizing it. Each one made him imagine how adorable your baby would look in it, tiny with their squishy little cheeks as if they were a little plushie.

Zayne:

Zayne would start off with a basket in his hand as you both strolled through the store so you can keep your arms linked together, just in case you started feeling tired, even if you were still in your early stages of pregnancy. But he’ll quickly swap it out with a cart after noticing how much energy and time you were putting into picking out baby clothes.

You’d catch the softest smile on his face whenever he picked up the smallest items. Tiny socks that were meant for a three month old that could barely stretch over his thumb or the little beanies that shrunk when he compared them to his hands. The clothes were tinier than he’d ever imagined and he couldn’t help but imagine how quickly your little one would soon arrive and would be growing into them soon.

Zayne would let you be in charge on picking out the ones that caught your eye whether it were bright colors or playful patterns, he’ll give you the space to choose whatever style you liked best for the baby. Every now and then, he’ll hold up a piece, showing you the ones he thought would be perfect for your future baby. His choices would always be thoughtful, carefully deciding the style and material that would keep them warm on chilly days or nights or light, breathable materials for warmer months.

Rafayel:

You two would spend HOURS in that store, completely immersed in picking out clothes for your little children that are due in a few more months. Each piece would vary on the color for the seasons. Every outfit and piece sparked a conversation, discussing why each piece would be cute on your babies and why they need it. It didn't take long to persuade him and it would immediately be in the cart

But before you knew it, wandering further into the store were toddler sized outfits and Rafayel was already imagining your babies growing up, they weren’t even born yet.

He’d get ahead of himself, picking out swimwear for your babies, picturing their first dip into the water with him and then later on, their first swim together. He’d also start choosing adorable outfits that would match or compliment each other's outfits for the perfect family photos you’d take together in the future.

Sylus:

You both already did your fair share of online shopping together with him, filling up the online cart with baby clothes you liked and loved. Sylus would make sure to select the express delivery even though your baby wasn’t due for a couple months, plus it's not like it'll hurt his card anyway. But if you ever felt like that wasn’t enough and you wanted to see more in person, he won't hesitate to take you out to shop.

This would already be your third cart in the store while Luke and Kieran wrap up the other two carts that were filled with baby supplies and toys you both might need. Now, the current cart was almost overflowing with baby clothes you thought would be perfect for your little one in a few months.

Sylus would let you roam around the aisles, admiring how focused you were while he pushed the cart around. He'd also throw in a few suggestions of matching outfits with your baby. Some could be for an event or just some casual wear that you could match with them at home. He would also have to remind you that the adorable little pieces you showed him were already ordered online, a little smirk tugging on his lips as he watched you fall in awe with the clothes all over again.

Caleb:

Shopping with Caleb would be filled with excitement and nostalgia. He’d pick out baby clothes that reminded him of what you wore when you were younger, he just wants his little baby to look just as cute as their mama. He’d also gravitate towards anything with adorable apple designs, which also means getting cute little baby bibs for them when they're ready for feeding

The entire time you two are shopping, he’ll frequently hold up a tiny outfit, his eyes lighting up as he explains to you how it reminded him of you when you were younger, no matter how embarrassing the story was, he'll manage to convince you to add it to the cart. He’d imagine how adorable it would be if a mini version of you wore it. He'll also add in a toddler apron so they can cook beside him in the kitchen in the future

He’s already planning ahead and imagining recreating those precious childhood photos of you and wanting to capture those same moments with your little one soon.

[ch0llies]

YOU ARE IN LOVE | MATTHEW STURNIOLO.

oneshot - matt x reader

It’s the night before you leave for college, and like always, you’re spending it with Matt- your best friend since preschool, the boy who has been by your side through everything. With only hours left before everything changes, the unspoken bond between you two presses against the surface, begging to be acknowledged. Will you fight it like you always have, pretending it’s nothing? Or will you finally say the three words that have been sitting on your tongue for years?

story warnings: fluffy as fuck, smut, oral (fem receiving), angst (if u squint), love confession, both characters are 18, and i think that’s it tbh. If any of these topics upset you… don’t read!

word count: 8k

for @mattsobvimyfav 💙

The room is bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights, their golden hue flickering against the ceiling. The hum of quiet music plays from your record player, the familiar melody of You Are In Love by Taylor Swift threading through the air like a whisper. The night feels heavy, thick with the weight of time slipping away, with the things left unsaid.

You pull the blanket up to your chin, sinking further into your pillows as a shiver runs down your spine. Your head is pounding, your body aching, and your throat burns every time you swallow. It’s just your luck- you’re leaving tomorrow, and instead of spending this night making memories, you’re curled up in bed, feverish and miserable.

And yet, you don’t feel alone. Matt is here.

He’s been here all night, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside your bed, flipping through one of your cliche romance books on your nightstand absentmindedly. His messy brown hair falls into his eyes, and every now and then, he pushes it back with an exasperated little sigh. You wonder if he realizes how much he does that.

“You should sleep,” he murmurs, not looking up from the page he isn’t actually reading.

“I don’t want to,” you mumble, voice hoarse.

He finally glances up, blue eyes soft with something unreadable. He sets the book down and leans his elbows on the mattress, close enough that you can see the worry creased in his brows. “You’re sick. You need rest.”

You shake your head, the movement making you dizzy. “If I sleep, I’ll wake up, and it’ll be tomorrow.”

And tomorrow, you’re leaving. The words aren’t spoken, but Matt hears them anyway. He swallows, his throat bobbing, and you watch as he wrestles with something in his head.

Instead of answering, he reaches forward, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. His skin is cool against your warmth, and the simple touch sends a shiver through you- not from fever, but from him.

“Still hot,” he murmurs. “Let me get you some water.”

He moves to stand, but you grab his wrist weakly, stopping him.

“Stay,” you whisper.

He exhales, settling down beside you in bed, his fingers ghosting over your knuckles. It’s nothing- just the softest brush of skin against skin but your breath catches anyway.

The song plays on loop in the background. Your record player is older than the both of you combined and will sometimes repeat a certain track over and over and over.

It just happens that it’s this song.

Your eyelids feel heavy, but you fight against it, desperate to hold onto this moment, to him.

“Are you scared?” you ask suddenly, voice barely above a whisper.

Matt doesn’t answer right away. He shifts, his fingers curling slightly against yours, like he’s debating whether to hold your hand. “Of what?” he asks.

“Of everything changing.”

Silence stretches between you, and then- so quiet you almost don’t hear it- he says, “Yeah.”

Your chest aches, and it has nothing to do with your fever. You turn your head toward him, blinking drowsily. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?” you murmur.

He looks at you, brows knitting together. “What is?”

“How you can be around someone for so long and never really say the things you want to say.”

Matt stills. For a long moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even breathe. His eyes search yours, something unreadable flickering behind them- something fragile, something breaking.

His fingers twitch against yours. You wait, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he feels it too.

Then, so quietly it’s almost lost in the music, he asks, “What do you want to say?”

Your heart stumbles over itself. You open your mouth, but no words come out. Maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t know how to say it- how to put into words what’s been building inside you for so long.

So instead, you just whisper, “I don’t want this night to end.”

And Matt…Matt, who always finds the words, who never stumbles over what he wants to say, just looks at you, like he understands everything you mean without you having to say it.

Like maybe, just maybe, he feels it too.

He shifts closer. Your hands brush, and he doesn’t pull away this time.

The silence between you is thick, filled with everything neither of you are saying, everything you want to say but can’t. The fever weighs heavy on your body, making your limbs feel like they’re sinking into the mattress, but the warmth of Matt beside you keeps you tethered.

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, still close, still there. His fingers brush absently against the blanket draped over you, like he wants to hold your hand but isn’t sure if he should.

“You’re gonna love college,” he says after a while, his voice gentle, careful. “You’re gonna meet so many new people, take cool classes, do all that independent adult stuff.”

You let out a weak, dry laugh. “That’s a nice way of saying you’ll be drowning in assignments and have an existential crisis once a week.”

Matt snorts. “Yeah, well. You’ve been preparing for that your whole life.”

You shake your head, staring up at the ceiling, watching the fairy lights blur as your exhaustion deepens. “I don’t feel ready.”

Matt is quiet for a moment, like he’s letting your words settle between you. Then, he exhales and says, “I’ll visit you. You know that, right? It’s not like I’m just gonna disappear off the face of the earth.”

You turn your head to look at him, your tired eyes searching his. “It’s not the same, Matt.”

Something flickers in his expression, something vulnerable, something he doesn’t want you to see. He quickly masks it with a small smile, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ll still be there. However you need me to be.”

Your throat tightens, and not just from the sickness. Because Matt has always been there.

Ever since the first day of preschool, when you found him crying behind the jungle gym at recess, small and overwhelmed and anxious. His triplet brothers had rushed off ahead, caught up in their own excitement, leaving him behind, and he didn’t know what to do.

So you had just… sat down next to him. Quiet, patient. You didn’t ask what was wrong, didn’t try to fix it. You just stayed, let him feel what he was feeling.

And then, after a moment, you had whispered the words that changed everything.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Matt sniffled, blinking up at you with wide, watery eyes. “Really?”

You nodded, swinging your little legs beneath you. “Yeah. We can play together.”

And from that moment on, you were inseparable.

Years passed, and things changed- new schools, new friends, different phases of life- but Matt was always the one thing that stayed constant. The one person you could always turn to, the one person who knew you, even when you didn’t know yourself.

And now you’re supposed to leave him behind?

Matt must sense the thoughts racing through your mind because he suddenly clears his throat and murmurs, “You know, if you wake up with a fever, your mom won’t let you go.”

Your heart stutters.

“You’ll have to wait,” he continues, voice light, teasing, but his eyes say something else.

Your lips part slightly, chest tightening.

“I really hope I wake up with a fever,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Matt lets out a soft laugh, but there’s no humor in it. He looks down at his hands, playing with the hem of his hoodie. “You don’t mean that,” he says, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anything.

“I do,” you insist, turning toward him fully now. “I don’t want to leave you, Matt.”

He presses his lips together, his jaw tightening, his fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

For the first time since you’ve known him, Matt looks lost for words.

Then, all at once the weight of everything crashes down all at once. It starts as a small, creeping thought- what if things change? But then it spirals, tangling and twisting until it’s too big to contain. Your chest tightens, your throat constricts, and suddenly, you can’t just lie here.

You sit up too fast, the dizziness from your fever making your head spin, but you don’t care.

“What if you forget about me?” The words tumble out, breathless, desperate. “What if you go to community college and meet cooler people? What if you realize you don’t even want to visit me? What if-” Your voice wavers, and suddenly, there’s a lump in your throat so big it hurts.

Matt’s eyes widen slightly, and he sits up immediately, his hands hovering near you, unsure if he should touch you or give you space.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, voice gentle but firm, like he’s trying to ground you, to pull you back from the edge of whatever storm is brewing inside your head. “Slow down.”

But you can’t.

You shake your head, chest rising and falling too fast. “What if everything changes and we don’t talk as much and then it turns into barely talking at all and one day we just become strangers who used to be best friends-”

Your breath stutters. You’re trying not to cry, but your eyes are burning, your hands are shaking, and your body feels too hot, too overwhelmed, too everything.

Matt moves before you can spiral any further.

He grabs your hands, his touch steady, warm, real. “Y/N.”

You look up at him, your vision blurry, your breaths uneven.

And then so soft and so certain, he says the same thing you said to him all those years ago, when he was just a scared little kid on the playground, left behind, lost.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Something inside you cracks.

The words settle deep in your chest, in the place where all the fear and doubt have been building, and suddenly, you’re eight years old again, sitting next to a crying Matt, holding his hand, telling him the same thing.

You had meant it then.

And he means it now.

A shaky breath escapes you, and Matt squeezes your hands tighter, like he’s anchoring you here, keeping you from slipping away into your own thoughts.

“You hear me?” he murmurs. “No matter where you go, no matter how much time passes- Im not going anywhere.”

Your chin trembles, and this time, you can’t stop the tears from slipping down your cheeks.

Matt doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, holding you like he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

You grip his hoodie, pressing your face against him, breathing in the familiar scent of home. Of him. The warmth of it against your cheek is grounding, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear calming your own. His arms stay wrapped around you, strong and unwavering, even as your breathing slowly evens out.

Neither of you move for a long time. The same song hums softly in the background for the millionth time, the fairy lights flickering against the walls, casting shadows that feel softer now, less suffocating.

Matt is the first to break the silence.

“Feeling better?” he murmurs, his chin lightly resting against the top of your head.

You sniffle. “No.”

A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest. “Liar.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, though he doesn’t let go of you entirely. His face is inches from yours, his eyes searching, like he’s making sure you’re okay before he lets himself relax.

For a second, you just stare at each other, the weight of the moment pressing down on you again.

You exhale, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Is there anything you’ve never told me before?”

Matt stills. “…What?”

You shrug, your voice light but a little shaky. “I don’t know. Just… before I go, I wanna get things off my chest. Feels like the right time, you know?”

His expression shifts, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Like what?”

You purse your lips, suddenly feeling nervous, but you push through.

“Well,” you start, biting the inside of your cheek, “one time I cheated at Wii Bowling and blamed Chris.”

Matt blinks at you, his body frozen.

You don’t notice.

“And another time, that girl in tenth grade- the one I hated- she wrote you a Valentine and left it in your locker, and I threw it out before you could see it.”

Matt doesn’t move.

You keep going.

“Oh, and once, you let me borrow your hoodie, and I got a stain on it, so I shoved it under my bed and told you I lost it. And I only found it, like, six months later, but at that point, it was too late to tell you, so- ”

“I think I’ve been in love with you since we met.”

Your breath catches.

The words hit you like a sudden drop, like the floor has disappeared from beneath you and suddenly everything feels way too real.

You blink at him, your lips parting slightly. “You’re…What?”

Matt exhales, his grip tightening around your hands, his expression so open, so vulnerable, you almost can’t breathe.

“I-” he murmurs, shaking his head, his voice rough with something you can’t quite name. “I- I thought you were gonna say it. I thought you were finally gonna say it, and when you didn’t, I just-” He cuts himself off, swallowing hard. “I can’t let you leave without knowing.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, racing, tripping, trying to catch up.

Matt doesn’t blink, doesn’t waver. “I’ve been in love with you since the moment you sat next to me on that playground and told me you’d wait for me.”

The memory rushes back in full force. The small, anxious boy, the way his brothers ran ahead without him, the way you had just sat there, patient and quiet, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

Matt lets out a breath, shaking his head. “I didn’t say anything because I was scared I’d lose you. I didn’t want to ruin this.” His voice drops, softer now, raw. “But you’re leaving, and if I don’t say it now…” He exhales. “I can’t risk you leaving without knowing how I feel.”

Your chest is tight, your mind spinning, but the only thing you can focus on is him.

Your mouth parts slightly, but no words come out. Your mind feels like it’s moving too fast and too slow all at once, trying to grasp onto the reality of what’s happening- of what he just said.

You blink at him, your breath unsteady.

“…Matt, why-” your voice is barely above a whisper, trembling, “why didn’t you say anything?”

Matt exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, like he’s been holding this in for years- because he has.

“Because I was terrified,” he admits, his voice rushed, like now that the words have started, he can’t stop them. “I was terrified of losing you, of ruining everything, of making things weird-” He shakes his head, laughing almost bitterly. “I thought maybe it was better to just have you, even if it wasn’t the way I wanted.”

You don’t even know how to breathe, don’t know how to make sense of the fact that Matt has been carrying this inside him all this time.

And then he just keeps going, like all the love he’s held back is pouring out now, raw and unfiltered.

“I-” He swallows, his hands gripping yours tighter, like he’s afraid you might slip away. “I’ve memorized you. Every little thing about you.” His voice turns softer, more certain. “I could pick out your laugh in a room of ten thousand people.”

“The way your eyes twinkle when you’re really, really happy,” he continues, almost breathless. “And how you get that tiny dimple in your left cheek, but only when you smile a certain way. How you furrow your brows when you’re confused, and you don’t even realize you do it.”

He’s looking at you like he’s seeing everything- like you are everything.

“When you’re scared, you always cover your ears first, like the noise is the worst part,” he murmurs. “And when you’re nervous, you play with the hem of your sleeve, and when you’re thinking really hard about saying something, you chew on your bottom lip like you’re debating whether or not to say it out loud.”

Matt doesn’t stop. It’s like now that he’s started, he can’t stop, like every single thing he’s been holding back is tumbling out all at once, raw and unfiltered. His grip tightens on your hands like he needs you to hear him, understand him, feel everything he’s saying.

“I know the way your voice sounds when you’re tired,” he continues, his voice softer now, like a confession. “That quiet, raspy little hum you get when you’re about to fall asleep.”

His eyes flicker over your face, memorizing you even though he already knows every single detail.

“I know the exact way your nose scrunches up when something annoys you,” he murmurs, his lips twitching slightly. “And the way you roll your eyes when you pretend to be mad but you’re not really mad, because if you were, you’d get quiet instead.”

Your throat feels tight, your chest aching with something too big to hold.

Matt exhales, shaking his head. “I know you hate the sound of ticking clocks because it makes you anxious. And I know you never finish your drinks because you get distracted halfway through and forget they exist.”

He laughs a little, but it’s breathless, almost disbelieving, like he can’t believe he’s actually saying all of this out loud.

“I know you love thunderstorms, but only when you’re inside and wrapped in a blanket,” he continues. “And that you get weirdly emotional when you see old couples holding hands because you think love like that is rare.”

Your vision blurs, tears threatening to spill because how… how has he always known?

“I know you like your fries extra crispy, but your cookies extra soft,” he says, shaking his head with a fond little smile. “And you always order the same thing at restaurants, even when you say you’re gonna try something new.”

Your breath is shaky, your hands trembling in his. Matt’s eyes darken, his voice turning softer, more careful.

“I know the way you look when you’re sad,” he whispers. “And the way you look when you’re sad but you don’t want anyone to know.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, gentle, reverent.

“And I know that every single time you smile,” he murmurs, his voice almost breaking, “I fall a little more in love with you.”

You suck in a breath.

Matt just looks at you, his heart in his eyes, his love written in every single thing he’s ever noticed, ever memorized, ever felt.

And for the first time in your life, you realize he hasn’t just loved you for a while.

He’s loved you forever.

Your breath is shaky, your chest so full it feels like you might burst.

You stare at Matt, his words still ringing in your ears, sinking into your skin, wrapping around your heart like they were always meant to be there.

And then, suddenly, it hits you.

He’s loved you forever.

And he never told you.

A new kind of emotion surges through you- one you can’t quite name, something between heartbreak and frustration, something that feels like God, why did we waste so much time?

Your hands tighten in his.

“Matt,” you whisper, your voice trembling, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

He blinks, thrown off by the shift in your tone. “I- I told you, I was scared-”

You shake your head, your eyes burning, your heart pounding. “Matt, I would’ve spent my whole life with you.”

His lips part slightly, his breath catching, but you don’t stop.

“You’ve had me, Matt,” you whisper, voice breaking. “Since the day you met me. You just didn’t know.”

Matt’s grip on your hands tightens, like he’s trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. “I-”

“I wouldn’t have looked at anyone else,” you continue, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I wouldn’t have wanted to. Because it was always you.”

Matt swallows hard, his throat bobbing, his entire body frozen as he watches you- like he can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, raw and aching. “I thought I was crazy. I thought I was the only one who felt it, and I was so scared of losing you that I never said anything, either. I’m sorry.”

A small, choked sound escapes Matt’s lips_ somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes, running a hand through his hair like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You shake your head, your hands still gripping his. “We could’ve had so much more time-”

Matt doesn’t let you finish.

Before you can even process it, his hands cup your face, and suddenly his lips crash into yours and it’s like everything in the universe shifts into place.

For a moment, you freeze, too overwhelmed, too shocked, too full of everything you’ve ever wanted but never thought you’d have. But then your body reacts before your mind can catch up, your hands gripping onto his hoodie, pulling him closer, your lips moving against his like they were meant to.

It’s desperate and soft all at once, like he’s trying to make up for years in a single kiss. Like he’s trying to prove to you that you were never crazy, never alone in this- that it’s always been him, and it’s always been you.

But then you remember your fever.

You gasp, breaking the kiss, hands pressing lightly against his chest to put just enough space between you. “Wait- Matt, I don’t want to get you sick.”

His eyes are dark, his breath uneven, and for a second, he just stares at you- like he’s been starving for this, for you, for so long, and he just got a taste, and he can’t bear to stop now.

Then, he exhales a shaky laugh, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, “I’ve been sick for the past eighteen years because I haven’t been able to do this.”

And then he kisses you again.

Slower this time, but somehow deeper, more intense. Like he’s pouring every unspoken word, every what if, every year of love he kept locked away into you.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly close, and he groans softly against your lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Then, without breaking the kiss, Matt shifts- his hands finding your waist, his body moving over yours until you’re beneath him, his weight pressing into you in the most perfect way.

You barely have time to react before he’s kissing you harder, like he wants to memorize every inch of you like this, like he wants to ruin the space between you so it never exists again.

His hands move slowly- tracing the curves of your body like he’s worshiping you, like he can’t believe you’re real. His thumb brushes over your cheek, then down your jaw, then to the side of your neck, where his fingers press just slightly, feeling your pulse race under his touch.

“God,” he breathes against your lips, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You whimper softly, and that’s all it takes. Matt’s lips move to your jaw, then to your neck, kissing you so slowly, so intimately, like he wants to take his time, like he’s savoring the moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips brushing over the spot just below your ear.

Your fingers dig into his back, your breath coming faster, and Matt groans at the feeling, his hands gripping your waist tighter, pressing you further into the mattress.

He moves with a kind of reverence you’ve never felt before, like he’s worshiping every inch of you, like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

His lips leave a slow, burning trail along your jaw, down the curve of your neck, lingering just enough to make you shiver beneath him. His hands stay steady on your waist, his grip firm but careful, like he’s afraid to rush this- like he needs to savor it.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Because the way Matt is touching you, the way he’s looking at you, says more than words ever could.

His fingers brush against the hem of your shirt, hesitating for just a second, his breathing uneven. Then, he glances up at you, his eyes dark, filled with something so raw, so intense, it makes your whole body warm.

“Can I?” he murmurs, his voice rough but gentle.

You nod, barely able to breathe, and that’s all he needs.

With deliberate, careful hands, he lifts your shirt up and over your head, letting it drop somewhere on the floor.

His gaze flickers over you, his chest rising and falling faster now, his hands ghosting over your sides, your stomach, like he’s committing every detail of you to memory.

“God,” he breathes, his voice almost broken. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His lips are on your collarbone, slow and warm, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses down the center of your chest.

Your body trembles beneath him, and he feels it, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he moves lower.

His lips trace along the curves of your ribs, your stomach, his pace agonizingly slow, so intimate, like he wants to worship every inch of you.

Every press of his lips sends heat pooling through you, makes your breath hitch, makes your fingers instinctively reach for him- except he doesn’t let you take control.

This is his moment. His chance to show you exactly what he’s felt for years.

Matt’s lips return to your chest, his mouth brushing over your peaked nipple, his tongue flicking just barely before his lips close around you, sucking gently, teasing, making you arch into him.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, and Matt groans at the sound, his grip on you tightening, his body pressing closer.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with something desperate, something needy.

And then, slowly, so slowly, his lips continue their path downward, kissing, teasing, taking his time.

Because for Matt this isn’t just a moment.

This is everything.

Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every suppressed urge finally unraveling all at once.

His hands trace the curves of your body with reverence, memorizing, savoring. His lips ghost over your collarbone, down the center of your chest, mapping you like you’re something sacred-because to him, you are.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathes, his voice almost a plea, his forehead pressing against your stomach as his fingers flex against your hips. He needs to hear it, needs to know that this isn’t just his own longing finally overflowing, but yours too.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently until he looks up at you, his blue eyes dark with need, with something deeper than want.

“I want this. I want you,” you whisper, and it’s all the permission he needs.

A shaky breath leaves his lips before he resumes his path downward, kissing, tasting, worshiping every inch of you like he’s been starving for this, for you, for longer than he even wants to admit.

Matt’s fingers hook into the waistband of your sweatpants, his movements slow as he tugs them down inch by inch. His lips never leave your skin, pressing soft, lingering kisses down your stomach, his breath warm and uneven against you.

His eyes flicker up, meeting yours through the dim light, and the look in them is nothing short of worship.

“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” he murmurs..

He slides your underwear down your legs, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, but it sends a shiver through you. His hands are firm yet gentle, grounding you in the weight of his touch. And then, once you’re bare beneath him, he just looks. Drinks you in like you’re something sacred.

His breath hitches as he presses his lips to the inside of your thigh, his grip tightening like he’s barely holding himself together. And he isn’t.

Because the way he wants you- it’s all-consuming.

His hips rut against the mattress, seeking friction, unable to help himself. His need for you, for this, is so intense it borders on unbearable.

His breath fans over your skin, warm and uneven, as he lingers there, lips hovering just shy of where you need him most. His fingers press into your thighs, thumbs tracing slow, mindless patterns, like he’s trying to ground himself- but it isn’t working.

“God,” Matt exhales, his voice wrecked, half a whisper, half a plea. His forehead briefly drops against your inner thigh, like he’s trying to steady himself, trying to hold back, but the restraint is slipping.

He presses another kiss there, softer this time. Then another. His nose brushes against your skin, and you can feel the way his breath shakes, the way his hands flex like he’s fighting every urge to lose himself completely.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs.

His lips part against your skin, warm and soft as he drags them over the sensitive flesh, barely there, just a ghost of a touch. He presses another kiss, firmer this time, his breath spilling hot against you before his tongue flicks out, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of your thigh. He lingers, mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses, his tongue flattening against your skin before he pulls away just enough to let the cool air chase the warmth he leaves behind.

His fingers flex, thumbs smoothing up and down the insides of your thighs in lazy, absentminded strokes, like he’s savoring the way your body reacts to him. He kisses higher, a little closer, but still teasing, still holding back, his nose brushing against you as he exhales another shaky breath. His lips part again, and this time, his tongue drags in a slow, unhurried line, tasting, testing, his grip tightening when your body tenses beneath him.

“Mmph- yeah baby that feels good,” you moan softly.

A quiet, broken sound escapes him as he finally gets a taste of you. One that sends a sharp jolt of heat through you, because it’s not just about what he’s doing- it’s about what this is doing to him. The restraint, the desperation, the way he’s been holding himself back only to finally give in, to finally let himself fall.

He tilts his head and licks you again, slower this time, dragging it out. His pace is torturous, every movement deliberate, like he has all the time in the world, like he wants to unravel you inch by inch. He sucks gently, his lips sealing over sensitive skin, his tongue flicking in short, teasing strokes before he pulls back just enough to let his breath fan over the damp heat he’s left behind.

His hands move, one sliding up to press firmly against your lower stomach, holding you in place, keeping you right where he wants you. The other ghosts higher, fingers brushing, tracing, exploring without urgency. He presses another kiss, softer this time, then another, his tongue flicking between them, lazy and unhurried.

He groans again like he’s savoring every second, like the taste of you is something he wants to commit to memory. His mouth opens wider, his tongue pressing flat and slow, dragging, circling, before he pulls away just enough to murmur against your skin, his lips brushing with every syllable.

“So damn sweet.”

Matt shifts slightly, settling in like he has no intention of rushing this, no desire to do anything but take his time and savor every second. His breath is warm, steadying, as he nudges his nose against you before his lips part once more. He starts with another slow, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue flicking out just enough to tease, to taste, before he pulls back and does it again.

“Oh my- fuck.” you cry out, hands flying down to tangle into his brown locks.

Then he presses in deeper, his tongue flattening against you, warm and wet as he drags it through your folds again with an unhurried precision. He hums low in his throat, the vibrations sending a shiver straight through you as he licks again, savoring the way you react beneath him as he explores, his tongue slipping between your folds, swirling, tracing, tasting.

Then he latches on, his lips sealing over you as he sucks, slow and deep, his tongue flicking in teasing strokes before he pulls back just enough to let his breath spill hot over your leaking cunt. He groans, a deep, needy sound, before he leans back in, sucking again, harder this time, his mouth working against you in slow, deliberate pulls.

“Yeah baby- Matt-” you moan, pulling his dark hair between your fingers as he hits your sweet spot again.

His tongue flicks out between each pull, circling, teasing, slipping lower before he sucks again, his lips wrapping around your folds as he draws them into his mouth, slurping softly, unashamed, like he’s lost in this, in you. He lingers, his tongue pressing and swirling, tasting every inch, every drop, before he shifts slightly and does it again, his pace slow, torturous, precise.

Every movement is deliberate, every pull of his lips, every flick of his tongue, every slow, wet slurp as he drinks you in like he can’t get enough. His fingers flex against your thighs, his grip tightening as he tilts his head, angling himself just right as his tongue moves with purpose, slow and deep, before he latches on again, sucking, savoring, swallowing every sound, every reaction you give him.

His eyes flutter as he shifts, pressing himself closer like he physically can’t stand the distance. His mouth is soft, wet, and devastatingly slow as he licks through your folds, savoring every inch, every taste. His tongue flattens against you before he pushes it deeper, slipping inside you with a slow, deliberate stroke. His groan is muffled, vibrating against you as he thrusts his tongue in again, slick and hot, his hands gripping you tighter to hold you steady.

“Fuck baby yeah- mmph- right there, yeah-” you blab underneath him.

He pulls back just enough to drag his tongue through your slickness, circling your clit in slow, teasing strokes before dipping back down, pushing his tongue inside you again, fucking you with it in steady, deliberate motions.

His hips stutter against the mattress, barely restrained, and when he groans against you again, it’s deep, needy, and frustrated. He grinds down, seeking friction, his body reacting instinctively to the way you arch beneath him, the way your hands tangle in his hair, tugging, guiding him deeper.

His tongue keeps working in slow, steady thrusts, in and out, pushing deeper each time before he pulls back to flick and circle your clit again. His lips wrap around it, sucking softly, then harder, before he licks back down, slipping his tongue inside you again, dragging out the sensation, stretching it, making sure you feel every inch of him.

He hums against you, his pleasure evident in the way his hips roll into the mattress, the way his breath stutters between each stroke of his tongue. His pace never falters, never rushes. Just deep, slow, purposeful movements, his mouth working you over as he grinds down, chasing his own relief against the bed.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes in again, tongue pressing deep before pulling out in a slick, slow drag. Then his mouth is back on your clit, sucking, teasing, worshipping, while his hips rut into the mattress, desperate, uncontrolled, his body reacting to yours like he’s just as lost in this as you are.

The tension between you coils tighter and tighter, pleasure building with every slow, unhurried touch as he continues that same pattern.

Matt can feel it. The way your body starts to tense beneath him, the way your thighs tremble in his grip, the way your breath turns ragged and uneven. He knows you’re close, knows you’re teetering right on the edge, and fuck, it does something to him. His hips jerk harder against the mattress, grinding down in slow, desperate rolls as he groans into you, his mouth sealing over your clit with renewed urgency.

His tongue flicks over your sensitive bundle of nerves in steady, deliberate strokes, dragging slow before wrapping his plump lips around it and sucking it into his mouth, pulling whimpers from you that only make him push himself harder against the bed. His hands tighten even more on your thighs, fingers pressing deep, holding you open for him as he devours you.

The way you react- the way your body arches into him, the way your hands tighten in his hair, pulling, guiding, needing- drives him insane. He groans, a desperate, muffled sound, before sucking harder, his tongue swirling, flicking, stroking. His hips rut into the mattress with growing urgency, each movement perfectly timed with the way his mouth moves against you, like he’s losing himself in the rhythm, in the way you tremble, in the way your breath hitches each time he flicks his tongue just right.

“You’re so close,” he murmurs against you, his voice wrecked, vibrating through every nerve in your body. He licks again, slow but firm, dragging his tongue over your clit in long, wet strokes before sucking it back into his mouth, rolling his hips into the bed with a deep, needy groan.

His movements grow messier, more desperate, his hips grinding down harder, the friction barely enough but still too much. His breath is ragged, his groans coming more frequently now, broken, needy sounds muffled against your slick skin as he buries himself deeper, tongue and lips and hands working you over like he’s determined to pull you apart.

“Come on, baby,” he rasps, barely pulling away, his breath hot against you. “Give it to me.”

And then he’s back on you, tongue flicking, lips sucking, hips rolling into the mattress with frantic, helpless need, completely lost in you, in this, in the way you’re about to fall apart for him.

You’re right there- so close it’s almost unbearable, your thighs trembling beneath his grip, your body arching into his mouth, seeking more, needing more. And Matt knows. He can feel it. He’s so in tune with you that he can tell the exact second you’re about to go under, can tell by the way your breath catches, by the way your fingers tighten in his hair, by the way your body goes tense and ready to break.

You moan, a soft, wrecked sound, and in the midst of it, the words spill out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered and real.

“I love you, Matt.”

The second they leave your lips, Matt falls apart. A choked, wrecked noise rips from his throat as his whole body tenses, his hips jerking into the mattress with a desperate, uncontrollable need. His groan is deep and guttural, vibrating against your clit as his entire body shudders, his grip on your thighs tightening almost painfully as pleasure crashes over him in waves.

And at the same time, he pulls you with him.

His mouth doesn’t stop, his tongue flicking, sucking, lapping at you with frantic, desperate movements, completely consumed by the feeling of you, by your words, by the way you moan his name as you shatter beneath him. The vibrations of his groans send shockwaves through you, tipping you over the edge with him, your body trembling as you crash into your orgasm, every nerve igniting under his touch.

Matt’s hips stutter against the mattress, rolling through the aftershocks as he whimpers against you, his body wrecked, spent, completely undone. His grip on you doesn’t loosen, his mouth still moving lazily against you, tasting, savoring, dragging out every last bit of your pleasure even as his own leaves him shaking.

Finally, he stills, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His forehead drops onto your thigh, his hands smoothing over your legs as he presses soft, lingering kisses against you, like he’s grounding himself, like he’s trying to process what just happened.

And then, barely above a whisper, he breathes, “Fuck, I love you too.”

His breath is still uneven, his body still trembling slightly as he presses soft, open-mouthed kisses against your inner thigh, his hands stroking soothing circles over your skin. He nuzzles against you, like he can’t quite bring himself to pull away, like he’s still lost in the moment, in you.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs, voice thick, still wrecked. He presses another kiss, this one softer, almost reverent, before whispering again, “I love you so much.”

But then, as the haze starts to clear, his touch falters. His brows furrow slightly, his breath hitching as he lifts his head and really looks at you. Your skin is still warm- too warm. The fever that had you curled up and miserable earlier hasn’t completely broken, and the realization crashes over him all at once.

“Shit,” he mutters, pushing himself up slightly, his hands immediately going to your face, brushing your hair back, feeling your forehead. His expression shifts, guilt flashing across his features as his lips press into a thin line. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” His voice is softer now, filled with worry as he cups your face, his thumb stroking over your cheek. “I- I shouldn’t have done that. I wasn’t thinking. You’re still sick.”

His eyes search yours, concern bleeding into every inch of him. “Do you need anything? Water? Medicine? A blanket?” His hands are already moving, like he’s ready to jump up and grab anything you might possibly need. “I’m so sorry, baby, I-”

But you don’t let him go anywhere.

Instead, you reach up, grab his wrist, and tug him down until his body is pressed flush against yours, his head resting against your bare chest. He tenses for half a second before melting into you, exhaling shakily as you wrap your arms around him, fingers threading through his hair, holding him close.

“I’ve never felt better,” you murmur, voice soft, sincere.

Matt lets out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh, and buries his face against your tits, his lips brushing over your skin as his arms slide around your waist, pulling you in tighter. His body is warm, solid, grounding, and for a moment, he just lays there, listening to the steady beat of your heart beneath his cheek.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, pressing a lingering kiss against your chest. But there’s no frustration in his voice, just quiet, exhausted affection.

The two of you stay there for a long moment, just breathing, just feeling. Matt’s weight is warm and solid against you, his head resting against your chest as his fingers lazily trace along your side. His breath is still a little uneven, but there’s something peaceful about the way he holds you, like he never wants to move.

But then, after a few minutes, he shifts slightly and mutters, “Fuck, I need to clean you up.” He pauses, groaning softly as he shifts again. “And I, uh, need to take care of myself too.”

You blink, tilting your head down to look at him. “Wait,” you murmur, teasing. “Are you still hard?” You grin slightly, running a hand through his messy hair. “Do you want me to blow you?”

You barely start to sit up before Matt’s entire body tenses against you. He jerks back slightly, his breath catching as his vision momentarily swims. “Oh- shit,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, like just the thought alone was enough to make him dizzy.

Then, with a reluctant groan, he shakes his head. “As much as that sounds fucking incredible… I, uh…” His voice drops a little, and suddenly, he’s fidgeting, shifting awkwardly as he clears his throat. “I already came.”

You blink at him, surprised. “Wait, what?”

His face turns bright red, his ears practically glowing as he runs a hand through his messy hair, looking anywhere but at you. “Yeah,” he mutters, clearing his throat again, looking almost painfully embarrassed. “Like… while I was eating you out.”

Your gaze instinctively drops lower, and that’s when you see it- the very obvious, very large stain on the front of his grey sweats. Your cheeks heat instantly, and you swallow, eyes flicking back up to him.

“That’s just from… eating me out?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Matt presses a hand over his face, groaning softly, but he nods. “Yeah.”

Silence hangs between you for a second- awkward and heated all at once, because somehow, that’s both incredibly embarrassing and incredibly hot. Your mind swirls with the thought of him grinding against the mattress, that desperate, that lost in you, that completely wrecked just from tasting you. You wish you had seen it.

He clears his throat again, breaking the tension as he finally forces himself to move. “Okay,” he mutters, shaking his head, like he needs to get himself together. “Let me get you cleaned up.”

Without another word, he rolls off the bed and heads into your bathroom, still visibly flustered. You hear the sound of running water, cabinets opening, and then he’s back, a warm towel in his hands as he kneels beside you. His touch is gentle as he cleans you up, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration, his lips pressed together like he’s still processing everything that just happened.

But as he works, his gaze flicks up to yours, and despite the embarrassment lingering in the air, there’s something warm and fond in his eyes.

“Never gonna live this down, am I?” he murmurs, his lips twitching slightly.

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile. “Probably not.”

Matt groans, shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

As Matt finishes cleaning you up, you let out a little amused hum and murmur, “It’s okay. I probably would’ve done the same if you let me blow you.”

His entire body locks up. His grip on the towel stills, and he visibly tenses, his breath catching in his throat. For a second, he just stares at you, like his brain short-circuited, before he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut like he’s trying to physically push the thought away.

“Sweetheart,” he groans, his voice low and strained. “You gotta stop talking about that or I’m literally gonna break.”

You giggle at his reaction, tilting your head at him, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Why don’t you let me, then?”

Matt groans again, dragging a hand down his face. “No,” he says firmly, shaking his head. “I’m not letting you blow me while you’re sick. You’re not doing anything to me while you’re sick.” His voice softens slightly, his gaze flickering over you with concern. “I don’t want you overworking yourself.”

You sigh dramatically, pouting. “Okaaayy.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond smile playing on his lips as he finishes cleaning you up. Once he’s done, he stands, heading back into the bathroom. You hear the soft rustling of clothes, the wet drop of fabric hitting the floor, and then a moment later, he steps out- now dressed in a fresh pair of sweats and boxers that he’d left at your place before.

When he looks at you, though, his breath catches slightly. You’re still sprawled out on the bed, naked, your body relaxed and already starting to doze off, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

His heart clenches at the sight.

With a soft sigh, he walks over, crouching beside the bed and brushing his fingers gently over your arm. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice filled with so much love it makes your chest ache. “Let me get you dressed and bundled up, then you can sleep.”

You let out a little sleepy whine but don’t protest as he carefully slips his own sweatshirt over your head, his hands gentle as he pulls it down over your body. It’s oversized on you, swallowing you up in warmth, and he smiles to himself as he rolls up the sleeves just a bit. Then, he grabs your sweatpants and helps you slip them back on, making sure you’re comfortable before pulling the blankets up around you, tucking you in snugly.

Just as he’s about to stand up and leave, you reach out, grabbing his wrist weakly. Your voice is small, tired, but filled with so much quiet pleading.

“No… please stay with me tonight,” you murmur, blinking up at him sleepily. “You can’t leave.”

Matt exhales softly, his expression melting into something so incredibly tender.

“Okay, baby,” he whispers, brushing his knuckles gently over your cheek before slipping into bed beside you.

The second he does, you shift closer, nuzzling against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. His warmth seeps into you, his steady heartbeat against your ear lulling you further into sleep.

Matt presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, tightening his hold on you just a little.

“Get some rest, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

You nuzzle closer into Matt’s warmth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt as you bury your face against his chest. His scent, familiar and comforting, fills your senses, and you let out a soft, content sigh.

“I love you, Matt,” you murmur, your voice muffled against him but filled with quiet sincerity.

His arms tighten around you instantly, like he’s holding onto something precious. He exhales softly, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head before whispering, “I love you too.”

And in that moment, with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear and his arms wrapped securely around you, everything feels right.

No matter what happens tomorrow, no matter where life takes either of you, you know it’ll be okay. Because in the end, you’ll always find your way back to each other.

You’ll always wait for each other.

MASTERLIST

tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[lustlovehart]

This is like my first ask ever so I'm a bit nervous, but I've been thinking abt monter!twst nonstop so I just had to make an ask. What would the boys do (including Rollo) if mh!reader was on a mission and got put under a sleeping curse?

I'd imagine it'd be pretty distressing, imaging Rollo trying to keep the monsters away while looking for a cure for reader.

Love the au also! Keep up the good work!

- milk 🥛 anon

A/n: Ahhhh!!! Hi 🥛 anon!!! Don’t ever be nervous putting stuff in my inbox <33 I’ve said this before but I love reading everyone’s ideas!! Even if i don’t get to writing them </3

Featuring: [Monster!Twst] Heartslaybul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasmonia, Rollo, Neige, Fellow, Skully, Chenya x Reader

Cw: Head canon format ( So no individual scenarios unfortunately), Obsession, Possessiveness, Kissing, Insecurity, No proofreading

Unfortunately, Poor Rollo has to deal with BOTH swatting them away like flies, and checking up to make sure you’re not suffering in your time of rest with nightmares 😔 (a wanting to be married to you single mom who works 2 jobs).

I like to imagine fairytales still exist within the universe, but they don’t reach their ears in the wild. It’s only Heartslaybul, Leona, Kalim, and Epel who have any idea of the “Kiss of true love”, and then words spreads around of these human stories and suddenly it’s less about getting your body back and more about being the one who wakes you up…

Why would he wanna kiss you? That’s stupid nothing’s gonna happen… Maybe one—?

- Ace, Jamil, Epel, Sebek

- Depending on his personality, he’s either going “Ew gross i’m not kissing a human” or “Those humans tales are foolish, why would i believe them?”. But either view end them in the same boat, standing over your slumbering form and hesitantly leaning into your face. Maybe he isn’t fast with it either, taking his time to look at the details in your mortal face, pores, eyelashes, everything really. It’s stupid, so stupid he shouldn’t believe any of this really, it’s vulnerable, emotional, unnecessary; yet, he can’t seem to stop himself from placing his monstrous mouth on yours, hoping something will happen.

Wants to kiss you, but feels a sense of insecurity that holds him back

- Riddle, Deuce, Cater, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Idia, Silver

- Similar to the previous category, but slightly different. They don’t oppose the idea of a kiss at all, what really has them fearing their lips on yours, is both the vulnerability, and the event of it not working. What then? He puts himself out there for you and it’s pointless? It’s cruel, a further reminder of just how different you both are. He will look at you with pain in his eyes, wondering what he should do. Ghastly hands taking your own as he lifts them to his mouth. He might not be able to bring himself to your lips, but he’s willing to settle on your skin. He just… can’t bear the thought that he wasn’t made for you.

He’ll try, it sounds fun! When, not if, you wake up, he’ll make sure to tell you about everyone’s current violence problem.

- Trey, Floyd, Jade, Rook, Lilia, Fellow, Chenya

- Practically jumping at the chance to place his mouth on you. Of course he’ll wake you up! You’re a lot more fun when you up and about trying to hunt him down! The thought of it not working does cross his mind, but is he truly an all famed beast if he can’t take risks? He lucked out on Rollo being gone, he’s essentially a human version of a brick wall. He’ll go out all out for you, snaking his arm around your waist and lifting you out the glass coffin liking a loving husband. He’ll swirl you around with care, before dipping you down like a ballroom dance, and then wake you up. He can’t wait to show off to everyone else, because you will open your eyes.

He’ll do it. if his try doesn’t work though… He’ll make sure no one eleses does either. Your sleeping body will forever be held with him until you wake up.

- Leona, Kalim, Vil, Malleus, Neige, Skully

- He’s already sat by your side, his hand tracing patterns into your collarbone while he whispers. Will you wake up for him? You will won’t you? You must. Silent affirmations only he and he only will know, unless you wake up of course. His finger will trace down your chest, tapping the place your heart would be, each touch in sync with the beat of your heart. It’s gentle, yet somehow possessive in some right. With the final beat of his index, he’ll finally lean down, his face feeling your breathes on his fiendish skin. You’ll wake up, not because he believes in the tale, but because you must let him be the one who does something so intimate to you. If it doesn’t work, he’ll put you in prettier clothes, a prettier coffin, a prettier home, because he won’t let anyone else have the blessing of tasting your lips, only him.

The one who places your body in the pretty glass coffin, putting you in the prettiest of wear and scenery during his attempt; all while warding off the wretched creatures.

- Rollo

- Practically spends every waking and sleeping moment in your presence, only leaving for at most 5 minutes. Unfortunately for him, 5 minutes is enough time for anything to happen to you. He’ll hold your hands, fix your clothes, place new flowers and ribbons on your coffin, anything for you; except be the one who kisses you. The urge to consumes his entire being, eating at him like a sinful leech who wont let go. Sometimes whenever he’s by you, his eyes can’t help but trace back to your lips, a temptation too good for any man or beast to resist, but he does, because he can’t bear the thought of stripping you’re purity, directly at least. Whenever the urge becomes much too strong, he’ll lean down, placing a kiss on your knuckle, on your wrist, on your forehead, on your cheek, on your collarbone, on your neck, on your chest, even on the corner of your mouth, until the only place he hasn’t placed his mouth on is your lips. An indulgence he won’t take no matter how much he wishes to. Because…

You don’t deserve a monsters love, not matter how much he wishes to be yours and yours alone.

You are the sole blessing he has left, he won’t taint you, no matter how much he wishes too. But… he won’t let anyone else take you either.

A/n: For Floyd, Jade, and Sebek I realized half way that these guys wouldn’t be able to reach you on land if that’s where you were laid to rest, a perfect scenario for Rollo really. Imagine his surprise when he opens your room and sees tiny imps dragging your coffin out and into the river, where a horrific marine monster takes hold of you… Truly, how desperate for you are they?!? (Rollo has no room to judge considering he’s just as obsessed)

This honestly makes Floyd and Jade scenario so pretty <3 being in pretty clothes while he ball dances with you in the water, dipping you down while clear water envelops your upper half, leaving only your pretty face <33 do you guys see the vision?!?

And trey? He doesn’t seem like the type to be in that category, but hear me out, he does it low-key. He doesn’t go all out like the others guys so it’s not as cocky, yet there’s the underlying feeling of bragging that they can get mad and but can’t outright criticize him for. Same goes for kalim, he doesn’t seem like the type to do such a thing, but in this case, he can’t help but feel a little jealous if it isn’t him who wakes you up.

[tsuyalovebot]

collared.

pairing: xia yi zhou / caleb x reader (love and deepspace)

cws: MDNI and ageless blogs will be blocked. suggestive. caleb is kind of unhinged, lowkey kind of condescending while teasing. mc=reader. casual touches (knee, thigh, face). reader uses makeup. he puts his thumb in your mouth. pet names (pipsqueak, pretty). basically caleb-typical warnings.

wc: 2.1k (this was supposed to be a drabble. help.)

author's note: he occupies my brain too much. pussy inspection piece coming soon just trust .｡.:*☆

Caleb's a patient man. That's what he likes to think. Despite the amount of times he's had to expound on his cruelty and dichotomy as Farspace Colonel, he likes to think it hasn't truly changed him from his observational nature. That he's still the same boy in some sense. To watch and give commentary, grinning lazily and all.

You're really, really testing him though.

"Caleb," you repeat his name, annoyance in your tone. "You're not listening."

"I am, though?" He muses, stirring the pot of fragrant, ginger chicken congee with one hand. He looks at you, who's seated on the countertop beside the stove, kicking your legs out while watching him cook.

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh. You doubtin' me, pipsqueak? I'll have you know, I scored very, very high on the fleet's physical assessment on training our senses." Caleb teases, turning back to the pot. He takes the bowl of shredded chicken, adding it into the congee and stirring while you pout.

"You're hearing me, but you're not listening. What was I talking about, huh?" You insist with a frown. You've got his clothes on—a fact that's kind of, sort of itching at his brain in some way, shape, or form. He tries to not think about it. You're only in them because you spilled your drink on your dress earlier. And, who would he be to not offer you a change of clothes?

Prior to this, he'd given you a shirt and pants in your size. Said he bought them for you whenever you'd come over to Skyhaven and his place. Much to his surprise however, while you appreciated his kindness (even though you also called him weird), you still padded off to his room to steal his clothes. Which is why you're here now, in some graphic t-shirt that's a size or three too big on you and shorts.

Caleb is a patient man. He repeats this to himself like a mantra. Maybe he could gaslight himself into believing this.

"You were telling me about one of your colleagues from the Association. How he was impeding you from doing your patrol because he kept flirting, right?"

You blink, mollified. He finds your slackened expression cute, smiling as he lowers the heat on the stove. The congee bubbles, the fragrance potent. "Hmm. I should take a picture of you."

Just as he pulls out his phone to feign snapping a shot, you swat at his hand. He laughs, shaking his head at your antics.

"Okay, so you were listening," you admit. Sheepish, a faint flush to your cheeks.

He nods with a little smile. "Yep. You gonna keep going?"

"Mm. So, as I was saying—"

You're really cute sometimes. He wonders if you know that too, because there's been so many instances of him wanting to squish your face in his palms. Feel the soft pudge against his hands, drag the rough skin of his fingers over your eyelids and the cartilage of your ears, the bone of your nose bridge like one would admire a caricature beyond their comprehension.

There's something novel in seeing you come over. It feels like old times, when he'd just departed from Josephine's place and you'd come over to his place and loiter. You'd grin as you raided his house of snacks, declaring this and that as yours. Obviously, those were yours. Why do you think he always seemed to be restocked in your favorite snacks when you'd come over?

But it's more than simple visits now. You've begun incorporating yourself into his house. It's becoming a home now, with every hairtie he finds on the carpet or tube of lipgloss left in the bathroom. You've begun leaving your clothes for him to wash, which he doesn't really mind. How could he, when he gets to run his fingers over the cloth you've worn and marvel at its softness despite the washed out color—how it's probably been with you and seen you in worse states than he ever has in your entire life?

You left your eyelash curler once and complained over the phone how your makeup bag keeps eating your stuff. When he said you'd left it at his place, you decided the best possible solution wasn't to swing by one day and take it during a regular visit. You resolved to stay for a week in Skyhaven with him since so much of your stuff was with him.

"I can just use my vacation now and let the Association know I'm on leave," you had said, your voice carried through the speaker. "Do you guys have that at the fleet? Vacations? You should take yours, as well."

Caleb had been bulldozing through reports at the time, lifting a page of some lackluster maintenance report on a couple of vessels. It didn't even look properly done—seemed he had a lot of work to do if he wanted to correct the conduct of the other fleets.

But, with the most playful and assuring tone ever, he had replied with, "Oh, we got those too. I'll use mine. That way, we can spend it together, yeah?"

Funny, how paid vacation was not, in fact, a thing.

Now, he's here with you and he could get used to this. His space being yours, yours being his. A mutualism, reciprocity built on benefit and comfort. It doesn't hold the same familiarity of the past with regards to atmosphere, but it's changed. New, developed on this blossoming relationship of seeking answers but also caring so deeply for each other.

"Caleb," you say his name with such disdain it snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You're not listening, again." You're scowling when he tears his gaze from the pot of congee. He reaches over and smooths out the little furrow of your brow and you let him. He smiles a bit.

"I am, I promise."

You shake your head. "No, you're not."

You reach over and pull on his dog tag. Hard. It surprises him, and he stumbles closer to your form. He looks at you, eyes wide.

You rarely initiated physical contact with him. Sometimes, he'd be blessed to have you jump on his back the way you always did. Maybe even feel grateful to feel your knuckles brush his wrist when reaching for utensils at the dinner table. But there's always a barrier, some sorr of invisible force that polarizes your forms and keeps you away from one another.

Yet here you aware, scowling so harshly he thought he made a grave misdeed that went beyond zoning out. Your finger looped into his necklace, demanding his attention. You're like a petulant child with your cheeks puffed up like this. It brings him back.

But it doesn't really bring back that signature brotherly attitude of his. Something else licks at the base of his spine. Something a bit darker, more subtle but nevertheless present.

Caleb can't help himself, smiling. A bit too giddy, slightly cheeky. You probably catch sight of it—you know him too well—and it probably aggravates you further, so you tug him again, by that necklace.

"Ah-ah," Caleb tuts, lifting his hand to gently wrap around your wrist. "Careful. You might break it."

Watching how your eyes flit down to the sight of his fingers winding around your skin, feeling the way your breaths stall at the sight. Hmm? He smiles a bit wider. He files away that knowledge for later.

Caleb relents at your tugs, though. Really, how could he ever deny you? Like an obedient dog, he moves, turning the stove off with one hand and snaking his way to be between your knees. His free hand placing itself on the countertop outside your knee, giving you his undivided attention.

You're a bit shy now despite getting what you wanted. Blinking at him like a deer caught in headlights as you hold onto the chain with your index finger. He could bite you, sink his teeth into your shoulder, and you would probably let him. Maybe even slip that neckline a bit lower for easier access, card your fingers through his hair.

You're spoiled rotten, and he wouldn't have you any other way. The product of his affections, the consequence of his actions.

"C'mon. I'm sorry for not actively responding, yeah?" Caleb coos, leaning in and subtly watching the flush color your skin. Careful to say actively responding, not listening. "You know I tend to focus too much when cooking. You got my attention now, though. Wanna keep going?"

You open your mouth, then close it again. He places his hand on your bare knee, watching in real time as you bluescreen, gaze darting.

Ah, he muses, his supposed patience waning. You make this too easy.

"Oh, I get it now. It wasn't that, was it? You just needed a bit of Caleb's attention, didn't you?" He drags his hand up, lets it hold your thigh. Gives it an experimental squeeze and observes your expression flicker between something akin to delight and mortification.

Maybe the mortification comes with him cornering you like this, even though you started. Or maybe you're coming to terms with the fact that you need him like he needs you. He'd hope that's the case. God, he'd love it if that were the case.

You stammer over your next words. Doesn't matter, he didn't hear it. Not over the sound of something like wedding bells in his head as he leaned in further. Deducting the space between you two, further enraptured by how all your thoughts seem to fizzle out at his proximity. His other hand, still holding your wrist, drops down to the counter.

"My attention is always yours, you know that, right?" He rubs his thumb into the softness of your inner thigh, tilting his head with a boyish smirk. It's playing at the corner of his mouth, and he has to stop himself from pouncing when you look at his lips too. "You don't gotta be rude, tugging me around. Have some manners."

And, like clockwork, his other hand comes up. In time with the gentle, swooping motions of his thumb on your thigh, he holds your chin. Lets you tilt your head up a bit, moves your head side to side lightly. He tests your pliancy and is pleased with his findings. You're slack, clay in his palms and he finds that he doesn't need to put you on a spinning plate to mold you.

Then, he tilts his head and narrows his eyes. Like a switch being flipped.

"Ah," he prompts, and presses his thumb against your lower lip. You're so good, so pliant as you open your mouth, letting him hook his thumb into your jaw. Presses it flat onto your tongue and lets you taste the slight spiciness of the diced ginger he handled earlier.

Delight sparks in his stomach as you remain perfectly still, save for the wobble of your lips. As if you didn't know to keep your mouth open or seal your lips around his thumb. He wouldn't particularly mind if you sucked—that should be for another time, though.

Caleb examines you like a mortician would a cadaver, his eyes dark. A piece of him satiating his appetite with the display before him. His digit in your mouth, your eyes a bit foggy as you breathe through your nose. In the palm of his hands, in his house, in his clutches.

You aren't the least bit resistant to his advances. If anything, you seem to welcome it, closing your eyes and letting your eyelashes flutter aganst your cheek when you open them to watch him too.

"You know I'm always listening to you. Always. Use your words like I taught you the next time you want my attention, hmm?" He leans in, smiling. Deceptively innocuous, saccharine with falsetto concern in a cheery tone. But he knows you see the desire lurking beneath the surface. Stewing in the cauldron of his gaze.

"Don't gotta be a brat to ask. Be good. Nod if you understand."

You nod, placated, dropping your finger from his necklace. Caleb smiles, pleased as he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. He feels the tension dissolve as quickly as it came.

He beams after, releasing you. His thumb leaves your mouth, hands off your face and thigh before returning to the congee. He ignores your pointed gaze toward him.

Caleb's a patient man. He'll wait, wait, wait, and wait some more. Doesn't make any difference to him, not when you're sitting pretty, waiting with him at his side. He'll wait, even as he watches you roll your tongue around in your closed mouth, like you're trying to taste him on your tongue.

"Now, keep talkin', pretty. I wanna hear how you kicked that guy's ass."

[seitmai]

Sooo many things to say

You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.

Yeah now guess how tired it makes to grow a human from scratch while also being the food source for another one🙄

Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."

🥰🥰🥰

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with."  Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

Say it!!!

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

hahaha fair

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please." You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

He loves being a dad so much 🥹

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way. "Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls." Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

Bradley's excitment for his daughter(s) is so pure 🥹

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.

This is just breaking my heart, she has already so much on her plate...

Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need." You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

I think I'm gonna throw up🤢

"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.

Oh no, I just wanna hug her 🥺 (and maybe slap some sense in Bradley)

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?" Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

Oh I have a feeling Nat is gonna my part in slapping some sense into him

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it. "You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked. "What?" "The word dumbass written across your forehead." "Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place.  Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup." Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Oh good he is so clueless...also Jake for backup is great because he no matter what will be on BG's side!

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

Nat is just the best🫰🏻

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about." The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity. "She wants in your pants," Jake drawled. "Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about. "Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest. Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

Oh god he really doesn't get it 🤦🏻‍♀️

If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it. Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well. Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

Halleluja! It got through his thick skull

"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."

She's so real for that lol

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?" "Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

Jake is jumping on the opportunity to bash Bradley hahah

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?" "Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes. "Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

They are not wrong🤷🏻‍♀️

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?" "Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

Oh he is so fucked when they gang on him like that

When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.

I love that he loves doing the bedtime routine🥹

Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly. "I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

Oh he better start to act like it... I have a bad feeling 🥴

Aim for the Sky Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't wait to learn if Rose is going to have a younger brother or sister. Planning for the baby means planning for the future, but Bradley can feel that you're unhappy. With help from friends, he finally figures out why.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, vomiting

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.

Truthfully, he was enjoying many aspects of his day-to-day at work. He loved making decisions that would benefit his group. When he had a compelling answer for his superior officers, it made him feel so good about himself. He didn't even mind putting in the extra hours. But it was clear that Indigo wanted to be his class pet, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about that.

She was weighing on his mind a lot, most likely because she was constantly invading his office hours. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to try so hard to be the best aviator in the bunch when she just simply was the best one. But that would be feeding her ego, which probably wasn't the smartest option right now.

"Are you ready?"

Bradley looked up from his desk to see you standing there, and he jumped to his feet. "Of course I'm ready," replied with a smile, pushing all of his paperwork to the side and logging out of his computer. "Been looking forward to this."

You smiled softly, hand resting on the slight swell of your belly as you shifted your weight from one booted foot to the other. "Me too," you whispered, and Bradley grabbed his keys, wallet and phone from his desk drawer. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours and headed out into the sunny October afternoon.

"Time for our final guesses," you said. "Do you think it's a boy or another girl?"

Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."

"Rose looks like you, Bradley!" you insisted immediately, breaking out in the biggest smile he'd seen on your face in weeks. 

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with." 

Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

"We'll be late if we don't get a move on," you whispered. Bradley responded by kissing along your cheek to your lips. "I'm serious, Roo," you mumbled.

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

A short drive later, and the two of you were walking into the waiting room right on time. You barely sat down before a nurse was calling you back and handing you a hospital gown.

"It's weird without Rose here," you said as you got undressed. Bradley held out the gown for you to slip into, shaking his head.

"Nah. This is just for us. She can hear all about it later after work."

He was just about to close the distance to stop you from tying the gown closed so he could get another look at you, but Dr. Morris strolled in.

"How are we all doing?" she asked, shooting Bradley a look on her way past. It wasn't like he was capable of knocking you up again, but she was looking at him like he might have.

"Fantastic," he replied at the same time you said, "Okay."

He shot you a look as you eased yourself up on the table. He wasn't sure what he could do to make you happier. A conversation was clearly necessary now, but he didn't even know how to initiate it. If finding out more about the second Nugget today wasn't enough to make you smile, he didn't know what was.

He dropped down into the chair at your side, wrapping his big hand around yours as Dr. Morris spread that warm gel across your belly and asked you an array of questions. He listened to your answers as his heart beat a little faster. He was excited about this. Soon you could talk about baby names and nursery themes. He couldn't wait to meet his second child in the spring. 

Bradley kissed your fingertips, watching intently as your doctor isolated some ultrasound images. Then she asked, "Do you want to find out the sex?"

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please."

You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

"It's a girl."

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way.

"Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls."

Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

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

Bradley had been inundating your text thread for days with links to various nursery themes, but meanwhile you and he hadn't even decided which room would be your second daughter's.

"A second daughter," you whispered at your desk. Your parents were excited; you got to watch your mom and dad cry over FaceTime. Rose was too young to care, but one day she might have an opinion about her sister. You, on the other hand, felt like a mixed bag of emotions.

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.

When you managed to let your intrusive thoughts win out, you checked his phone only to find pretty much nothing untoward. Other than ruining the surprise of what was probably supposed to be an anniversary gift, all you found was one unanswered message Indigo sent to him a while ago. It bordered on flirtatious, and you were a little concerned that he gave her his phone number, but there was really nothing there.

But she was in your face on base enough that you kept to your office as much as you could. Of course, today was the day you were absolutely starving, and you left your lunch at home. You could pop down to the cafeteria, grab a sandwich to appease yourself and the baby, and then bring it back up here to eat it. Should be a piece of cake.

Hot turkey sandwiches were on the menu, and you almost cried tears of joy as you had one packed up in a container with extra gravy and a side of mashed potatoes. It smelled so good, you couldn't wait to take a bite. 

When you were waiting for the elevator, you froze with your lunch in your hands. You could see Indigo and Spice heading out of the cafeteria, and there was hardly anyone in the lobby for you to try to hide behind. You felt absolutely ridiculous as you stood there eavesdropping.

"What kind of progress have you made?" Spice asked, voice carrying over the sound of conversation around you.

Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need."

You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

A sob escaped your lips, and you tripped along to your office door. You really did look awful. Your skin was broken out, and you were going to need to start wearing the maternity tent well before your third trimester. Your belly was already tender, and then the baby decided this was the perfect moment to kick hard enough you thought you were going to wet your khakis.

"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.

When you finally made it back to your office, your stomach couldn't handle a single bite of food. You dumped it in the trash.

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

Bradley was just wrapping up a meeting with Maverick when Indigo cornered him outside his office. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. She was getting to be relentless.

As she shook her head slowly, she laughed. "I already told you, Sir, I can think of countless things you could help me with."

"Well why don't you run some of them past me?"

Her eyes widened as she licked her lips. "We could do that at the Hard Deck? I could still buy you that drink?"

Bradley sighed, hands planted on his hips which somehow drew her in closer. "I can't let any of you buy me drinks. Sorry, but that's not going to happen." He nodded toward his door. "But I have about fifteen minutes if there's something I can help you with."

She nodded. "Fifteen minutes would probably be more than enough, Sir."

Indigo stepped inside his office, glancing back at him over her shoulder, but Bradley saw another familiar face turn the corner in the hallway.

"Hey, there, hot shot," said Natasha, making Bradley smile. "You have a minute?"

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?"

Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "See you around seven?"

"Yeah." 

She took one more look at Indigo before marching back the way she came, leaving Bradley with nothing to do but take a seat behind his desk.

"Do you want me to close the door?" Indigo asked, voice laced with hope as she half stood.

"Leave it," Bradley replied, once again showing no hint of favoritism. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

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

After dinner, you excused yourself to Rose's nursery to feed her and make a phone call to your parents. Bradley kissed you on the forehead before doubling back to the bedroom to change into gym clothes. When he let you know Nat was coming over to workout in the garage, you seemed almost relieved.

He started setting up his weights and bench press when he heard the sound of a familiar engine pull up to the house. A minute later, Nat was strolling in wearing bright pink spandex with a matching gym bag. 

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it.

"You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked.

"What?"

"The word dumbass written across your forehead."

He rolled his eyes, dropping her bag onto one of the mats. Then he froze as he heard another engine pull up to a stop at his driveway. This one made him glare at Nat.

"Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place. 

Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup."

Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Natasha closed the distance to him, patting Bradley on the chest with a firm hand. Her dark eyes conveyed concern as she asked, "Are you fucking stupid? Or are you doing it on purpose?"

"Huh?"

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity.

"She wants in your pants," Jake drawled.

"Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about.

"Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest.

"Indigo?" Bradley asked, taking a step away from her. Both Nat and Jake were nodding as Bradley's brow creased. "She's like twenty-six years old."

"So?" Nat asked, hands planted on her hips.

"So, she's not trying to get in my pants. I'm married. Everyone knows I'm married."

Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it.

Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well.

Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."

"I'm not," he barked, angry at the insinuation. "I wouldn't. I've never even touched her!"

Nat's hands were on his chest, coaxing him to calm down, but he was too worked up. "Easy, Soul Sister," she said, but he was shaking his head now.

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?"

Bradley's chest was heaving with ragged breaths as she guided him to sit on his bench. He landed hard, jostling the weights as he looked up at two sympathetic faces.

"Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?"

"Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes.

"Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

"Fuck." Bradley stood and started pacing around. He felt like his job and marriage were suddenly on the line. He didn't know what to say to you that wouldn't potentially make things worse right now. If he could think of something reasonable, he'd run across the yard and back inside the house and say it to your face.

Maybe this was part of the reason you'd been so quiet? But it didn't make sense. He never talked about Indigo outside of the context of work, because there was simply nothing else to say. But after that night at the bar, you were really fucking mad at him. He thought you were mad that he got drunk, but maybe there was more to it.

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?"

"Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

But he would take care of everything. He'd talk to Mav and figure it all out. What other choice did he have? 

"I'm heading inside," he murmured. "Can the two of you turn off the lights and lock up when you're done."

Bradley didn't wait for an answer. He was already walking across the backyard, craving your reassuring touch that he wasn't quite sure he deserved. When his phone vibrated in the pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out. He was met with another text from Indigo, but this time there was a photo as well. She was on the beach at sunset, the orange and pink sky somehow making her eyes look even more startlingly blue, and she was smiling at the camera. When his eyes slid down the screen to her cleavage, he almost dropped his phone. But not before he read the text.

This beach is so beautiful. Wish you were here.

Bradley couldn't decide what to do. Turn around and go back to the garage? Go inside the house? Sit down on Rose's jungle gym and cry? Smash his phone to bits? When another text appeared, he looked at it immediately.

Oops, I sent that to the wrong person. Have a good night, Sir.

Bradley squeezed his phone in his hand until he was afraid it might break. Then he opened a different text thread and pounded out a message, hitting send immediately. 

Mav, I need to talk to you about something important first thing in the morning.

When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.

Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly.

"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

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

Start getting your shit together, Bradley. Indigo has shown she's relentless. Also, I thought I was solid on the baby's name, but I might put it to a vote. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@blog-name6996

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@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

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[greengoblinswifey]

Take Charge— Kang Dae-ho/Player 388 x Fem!Reader

summary— You love taking charge and having control over Dae-ho and he’s happy to obey every word and please you. Based on this request.

warnings— sub!dae-ho, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, use of miss, hair pulling, body worship, unprotected sex, begging, creampie.

Since the moment you and Dae-ho’s eyes met, you were inseparable. You had a pull on him unlike no other and he stayed by your side like a lost puppy. He was deeply infatuated, absolutely whipped, your charm and your beauty having him in a strong hold. You had a certain aura about you, something between intimidating and sexy. With all that, it was no wonder you had him wrapped around your finger.

In the far end of the dormitory, in a small bed away from your group, Dae-ho was between your legs. All it took was that look in your eye that he had grown to know all too well and he was began doing what he did best.

“That’s it, keep going,” you moaned, lowly, as he sucked on your clit.

Your fingers tugged his hair, pulling him into your pussy even more as he ravished you. His tongue explored you like a man starved—as if the food from earlier wasn’t enough to satisfy him. And it wasn’t, only you could satisfy his primal hunger.

“T-taste so good. Always so good,” he muttered between your legs.

“Don’t speak. Focus on making me cum,” you said, sternly, gripping his hair tighter.

He hummed, the sound sending vibrations through your body and you bit back a moan.

Having him at your mercy was the only good thing about the wretched place, and being able to have him do whatever you told him took your mind off the hell hole, just for a bit. He winced at the pain as you dragged him by his hair on where you wanted his tongue but the pain was his pleasure. He sucked your clit with such ferocity, you couldn’t hold back even if you wanted to.

You moved your hips, rubbing your pussy all over his face as his tongue went deeper and you felt yourself on the brink of an orgasm.

“Keep going,” you whispered, voice shaky, “I’m about to cum.”

His hands kept your legs open and as his tongue focused on your clit, he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling them against your sweet spot. Your back arched from the bed and you bit down harshly on your lip, containing your moans as you squirted on his mouth.

He slurped every drop, guiding you through your high until your legs shook. As you came down from cloud nine, he lifted his head, lips and chin soaked with your juices. Eyes dazed and lust blown. “Did I do well? D-did I make you feel good?” he asked.

“Yes, sweetie, you did so well for me.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a steamy kiss that had you tasting yourself.

Dae-ho then went to kneel at your feet on the bed, pressing reverent kisses along your calves, his lips trailing up to the curve of your knee. His hands smoothed over your skin with gentleness, like you were something divine, something to be cherished.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his breath warm against your thigh. “So beautiful, I’ll do anything to please you.”

You leaned back, watching him with quiet amusement, your fingers threading through his hair as he continued to worship you, his mouth skimming over your skin with devotion. His lips traveled higher, pressing kisses along your stomach, then to your tits, where he lingered, nuzzling between them with a sigh of gratitude.

“I’m so thankful for the opportunity to make you feel pleasure,” he whispered against your tits. “I’ll spend every second proving myself worthy.”

You tilted his chin up so his dark eyes locked onto yours. “Then prove it,” you said.

Dae-ho swallowed, desire and desperation in his expression. “Please,” he whispered. “Please let me have you. I need you, miss. I’ll do anything.”

You tilted your head, considering. He was already yours, utterly and completely, but hearing him beg, seeing the raw need in his face, sent a thrill through you.

“Good boy,” you finally responded.

He exhaled sharply, relief washing over his face. “Thank you, miss,” he murmured.

Slowly, he lined his very hard and leaking cock with your entrance and pressed inside, a moan slipping from his lips as he buried his face in your neck. “Feels so good,” he breathed, his hands gripping your hips as he moved with slow, deliberate precision. “So perfect, so tight, like you were made for me.”

His praises didn’t stop, he whispered against your skin with each slow thrust. “So beautiful, I could stay like this forever. I’ll make you feel even better, I swear.” His voice wavered between reverence and awe, his deep thrusts never faltering, never rushing.

For once, Kang Dae-ho was not a man of violence, not a man driven by desperation or survival. Here, with you, he was something else entirely, something softer, something devoted.

You combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him gently as he worshipped you with every touch. His devotion was clear in the way he moved, in the way he clung to you, needing you just as much as he needed air. His thrusts were deep and reverent, the head of his cock nudging your sweet spot each time he moved.

You breathed heavily, watching as he lost himself in the pleasure above you. His cock throbbed inside you as your walls pulsated and clenched, clinging to him like you didn’t want to let him go.

When his breathing grew more erratic, his hands trembling against your skin, he gasped, “I—I can't hold it. I’m gonna cum, please.”

You tightened your hold around him, voice steady as you commanded, “Don’t. Show me how badly you want it.”

Dae-ho immediately obeyed, his lips trailing frantically across your skin, whispering between each kiss, “I adore you, so beautiful, please, miss, please.”

His lips went to your tits, suckling and licking as he begged you to let him cum. You let him linger there for a moment, watching the desperation in his expression before finally granting him permission. “Cum with with me,” you murmured.

A relieved, grateful moan escaped him as he buried his face against you, whispering, “Thank you, miss.”

You moaned softly, your body convulsing, your orgasm hitting you like a truck as he came deep inside you. “Fuck, who’s my good boy?” you whispered.

“I am,” he panted, slowly thrusting as your pussy clenched tightly, taking in every drop.

When your highs ended passed, he collapsed against you, his face nestled against your tits, his breathing ragged. You ran your fingers gently through his hair, soothing him with slow strokes, feeling the way his body relaxed under your touch.

Dae-ho let out a content sigh, his arms still wrapped around you as if he never wanted to let go. “I’ll always be your good boy,” he mumbled sleepily, voice muffled against your skin.

And as you held him close, you knew he meant it.

[chewnotchoke]

for you to be here, again.

ೃ࿐ boynextdoor as exes who cannot get over you

warnings: boynextdoor x reader, angst, break up, pining, bonedo crying bcs i have thing for crying boys lmao wc: 1.8k

sungho 

𓍯 he isn’t the annoying, embarrassing ex who can’t take a hint. no, sungho is far from that. his inability to move on is quiet, almost invisible. it’s in the small things you’d never notice unless you looked closely enough.  

𓍯 whenever he misses you, he doesn’t flood your inbox with desperate texts or try to insert himself back into your life. instead, he scrolls through your old messages, reading each line as if searching for something he missed, something that might tell him how it all fell apart. on nights when the ache in his chest feels unbearable, he logs into a spam account just to check your social media. he studies your posts in silence, wondering if the smile in your photos is real or just for show.  

𓍯 after the breakup, he developed a habit of overanalyzing everything. he reads and rereads your last messages, dissecting every word, every punctuation mark. he clicks on the names of people who like your posts and studies the profiles of those you’ve recently followed, crafting stories in his head that only fuel his misery.  

𓍯 and then there was that evening—when the sun was setting and the orange light softened everything but the weight of the moment. you’d agreed to meet him for closure, ready to draw the final line between you both. you thought it would be simple, clean. a goodbye. but when it came time to leave, he just couldn’t let go of your hand.  

𓍯 standing by the side of the street, his grip tightened as though letting go would mean losing the last piece of you forever. his lips quivered as he tried to keep it together, but the tears betrayed him, spilling down his cheeks before he could even form the words. his voice was low, trembling, and desperate. “i’ll be better…hm?” his swollen eyes searched for yours, his vulnerability raw and heartbreaking.  

𓍯 in that moment, it was as if he’d fall to his knees right there on the pavement if it meant convincing you to stay. he didn’t care who might be watching or how foolish he might look. his hand stayed firm around yours, a silent plea that screamed louder than any words he could manage. he was willing to beg, to promise, to do anything—if only you’d give him one more chance. 

riwoo

𓍯 in his latest post, he wore a bracelet you both shared during better days, casually wrapped around his wrist. he doesn’t mention it, but he hopes you’ll notice. it’s his silent way of saying he still thinks about you, even now, after everything fell apart.

𓍯 he blames himself for losing you, overanalyzing every fight, every word left unsaid. he tells himself it’s because he wasn’t enough or didn’t try hard enough. in his mind, if he had just loved you better or held on tighter, maybe he wouldn’t have lost you.

𓍯 your relationship with riwoo was a cycle of hope and heartbreak, on and off, again and again. each time you tried to fix it, the cracks seemed to deepen, but he refused to let go. he gave everything to keep you, even when it felt like the universe was against you both. and yet, despite his desperate efforts, he still lost you in the end, even though it was never truly his fault.

𓍯 riwoo is the type to drunk text you, and everyone knows it. his friends would drag him out for a karaoke night at the ktv, hoping to take his mind off you. but instead of grabbing the mic and singing along, he’d sit in the corner, nursing a drink as his friends’ voices echo through the room. one shot turns into two, then three, until the alcohol numbs his senses—but not his thoughts.

𓍯 eventually, he’d slip outside under the guise of needing fresh air. his friends would find him leaning against a wall, his phone screen glowing in the dark as he carefully types out a message for you.

𓍯  his words are raw, aching with vulnerability: "how are you so good at pretending i never meant anything to you, while i’m here thinking about you all day even at times when i should be happy? did you even love me? do you ever think of me too? why does it feel like this doesn’t kill you the way it’s killing me?”

jaehyun

𓍯 you have no idea what your absence does to jaehyun. one time when jaehyun couldn't stop himself from crossing your boundaries as exes, he dialed your number and called you. when he didn't expect you to answer, you could hear how his voice wavers when he talks to you, how it almost feels like he's choking in his own tears, asking you to come back, and telling you how much he's struggling to move on. 

𓍯 “y/n, i can’t do this. please.” jaehyun’s voice cracked, his grip on your hand trembling as he stared at you with eyes that brimmed with desperation. “i don’t want to throw away all the love i have for you. i can’t. i could never give this love to someone else. so please... let me love you again.”  

𓍯 your heart clenched at the raw pain in his voice, but you forced yourself to stay firm. swallowing back the lump in your throat, you reached down to pry his hand off yours, even as it broke both of you further. “jaehyun, you can.” your voice shook, but you kept going, fighting through the ache. “right now, you feel like you can’t because… we just broke up. but trust me, you’ll move past this. you’ll give that love to someone else—someone who deserves it.”  

𓍯 his breath hitched, and he shook his head fiercely, tears streaking down his cheeks. “but they’re not you.” he choked out, the words thick with frustration and heartbreak. “y/n, it’s not the same if it’s not you.”  

𓍯 the weight of his words hung heavy in the air, suffocating. for a moment, you faltered, the pain in his voice slicing through your resolve like a blade. but you knew—no matter how much it hurt—it was over. you had to let go, even if he wasn’t ready to.

taesan 

𓍯 taesan dodges every potential relationship that comes his way, like he’s running from something he can’t bear to face. and maybe he is—because no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much time passes, he can never get over you.  

𓍯 it’s impossible for him to be with someone else without you creeping into his mind, lingering like a ghost in every quiet moment. every laugh he hears feels dull compared to yours. every fleeting touch lacks the warmth he once knew. even though you couldn’t care less that he’s still breathing, you haunt him in ways you’ll never realize.  

𓍯 women approach him, some bold, others subtle, each one trying to capture his attention. but none of them could ever come close to you. he knows it’s unfair, knows he’s holding them to a standard they could never meet because they’re not you. and yet, he lets the comparisons swallow him whole, shutting out every chance at moving on. 

𓍯 late at night, when the weight of it becomes too much to bear, he’ll grab his phone and type out messages that he knows he shouldn’t send. but he does anyway, each word a quiet plea he can’t hold back: “i just feel like… we didn’t even try enough. don’t you think?”

𓍯 even then, he knows the answer. he knows you’ve moved on without looking back. but for taesan, forgetting you feels like forgetting a part of himself

𓍯 taesan might appear composed and nonchalant to the world, but when it comes to you, he’s a storm of emotions he can’t contain. the mere thought of you and the life you could’ve shared leaves him unraveling, tears spilling freely as he lets himself feel every ounce of the ache, no longer holding back what he’s been keeping buried inside.

leehan

𓍯 when you were together, he never failed to share every detail of his day with you—what he ate, the things he saw, even the random thoughts that crossed his mind. but after the breakup, he didn’t know where to put all those thoughts anymore. with no one else to confide in, he started typing them into the notes on his phone, just in case there was ever a chance to talk to you again. in his mind, he held onto the hope that one day, he could sit down with you and tell you about everything you’d missed.

𓍯 but when reality sank in, when he realized that chance might never come, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. the weight of missing you crushed him in moments like these, and no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he always came back to the same aching longing.

𓍯 of all the members, he’d be the one trapped in the cycle of longing the longest. he wouldn’t open up to others, keeping his feelings bottled up instead. he thought if he could just hold on quietly, it might hurt less, but that only made moving forward harder.

𓍯 for leehan, moving on felt like losing you all over again. so he never rushed the process, knowing deep down that forcing himself to let go would only make the pain worse. he took his time, letting himself grieve at his own pace.

𓍯 he was sentimental to a fault. every little thing that had been yours—the mug you left behind, the hoodie you forgot to take home—still sat where it had always been, as if they’d belonged there all along. he didn’t have the heart to pack them away. they were pieces of you, and even if they hurt to look at, he couldn’t bring himself to let them go.

woonhak

𓍯 woonhak would be the type to keep his distance, even when his heart ached to be near you. no matter how much he missed you, he’d choose to stay in the background, silently watching as you moved forward without him. he convinced himself it was for the best, he didn’t want to disturb the peace you’d found in his absence.

𓍯 every time he thought about reaching out, his fingers would hover over his phone, only to set it down again with a quiet sigh. he couldn’t bring himself to pull you back into the tangled mess of emotions he carried. so instead, he stayed silent, swallowing his longing even when it hurt the most.

𓍯 one thing about woonhak is when he cries, he doesn’t hold back. tears fall freely as if each one carries the weight of everything he’s been holding inside. he doesn’t hesitate to let it out because keeping it in feels unbearable. but reaching out to you? that’s a step he’s too afraid to take.

𓍯  so instead, he turns to his most trusted friends, the ones who know him better than he knows himself sometimes. with shaky breaths and tear-streaked cheeks, he crumbles in their presence. “what the hell did i do wrong?” he chokes out, his voice breaking under the weight of his heartbreak. “where did it all go wrong? all i did was love her.” the words spill from him like a flood, his sobs filling the silence as his older friends wrap him in their quiet understanding. 

[fear-is-truth]

Hi! I really enjoy reading you writing, thank you for taking the time to write so much🩵 I was wondering if you could write namgyu fiancé/wife headcannons(I got inspired to ask after reading your Patrick Bateman hc’s lol.) Anyways sorry if this was worded weird in any way it’s my first time sending a request😭 love you writing🩵!

I NEED A GANGSTA TO LOVE ME BETTER THAN ALL THE OTHERS DO . . . husband! + fiancé! NAMGYU

warnings — toxic behaviour but we still love him jackie’s note — thx for the req ! i did my best trying to keep him in character

makes sure to charm your parents, but it’s not over-the-top. he’s not the type to be overly polite or sickeningly sweet—that would seem fake. instead, he plays it smart. respectful, well-mannered, but with that natural confidence that makes people believe in him. calls your father abeonim (아버님) and your mother eomeonim (어머님), bowing properly when he greets them.

tl;dr — maybe because his actor (roh jae-won) wears glasses irl, i imagine nam-gyu wearing glasses to look “well-read” and “sophisticated”. also he’ll cover up his tattoos with long sleeves.

if your parents are traditional, he knows exactly how to navigate that. he’s sharp—he understands the nuances of korean etiquette and leans into them when necessary. he makes sure to pour drinks properly, holds his glass with both hands when your father pours for him, eats with careful manners. if your parents are strict, he presents himself as someone stable, capable, a good match. if they’re more laid-back, he relaxes slightly, adjusting his tone to match the atmosphere.

subtly reminds you that he’s on his best behavior for you. if you tease him about how polite he’s being, he just smiles, leaning in to murmur, what, you think i’d go through all this trouble if i didn’t love you? a little smirk, a slight squeeze of your thigh under the table. a reminder that you are the reason he’s being a good boy—because normally, he wouldn’t even bother.

if your mother fusses over him, he plays along. when she offers him more food, he doesn’t refuse, thanking her with a polite smile. if she comments on how skinny he is, how he should eat more, he chuckles, glancing at you. your daughter already takes good care of me, eomeonim.

if your father is hard to impress, he takes it as a challenge. he’s patient, methodical—never too eager. he doesn’t try to prove himself all at once. instead, he subtly weaves his way into your father’s good graces. agreeing at the right moments, asking the right questions, offering carefully-worded insights that make him seem thoughtful, intelligent. and if he finally earns even a hint of approval? he glances at you, his smirk barely concealed. told you i’d win him over.

carefully watches how your parents treat you. if they’re critical, make offhand comments about you, if they push certain expectations—he picks up on it fast. and later, he uses it. you always do what they want, don’t you? a soft, almost mocking chuckle, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your wrist. no wonder you’re always so easy to push around.

he’s prepared for any potential criticism. if your parents are skeptical of him, nam-gyu doesn’t get defensive. instead, he meets them with calm responses—turning doubts into opportunities to prove himself. i understand why you’d be concerned, abeonim. i’d feel the same if i were in your position. but i love your daughter. i wouldn’t be here otherwise.

if your family likes him too much, he gets really smug about it.

if your parents don’t approve of him, he doesn’t panic—he improvises/adapts/overcomes. he knows that pushing too hard will backfire, so he plays the long game. lets them see the good parts of him, lets them warm up to him over time. and in the meantime? he makes sure you’re still firmly in his grasp. it doesn’t matter what they think, he tells you. as long as you want me, that’s all that matters.

he’s the kind of fiancé who treats the engagement ring like a collar. it’s not just a symbol—it’s proof that you’re his. he likes seeing it on your finger, will get noticeably irritated if you take it off, even for something as innocent as washing dishes.

nam-gyu loves calling you his fiancée / wife. he says it all the time, almost tauntingly, because he knows it flusters you. where’s my wife? when he walks into a room. c’mere, dear fiancée when he wants something. it’s possessive in a way that makes it clear—you’re his. and when he really wants to make a point? my wife wouldn’t do that to me, right? an almost-smirk, a tilt of his head, watching you.

marrying him doesn’t make him any easier to deal with. if anything, it makes him worse, because now you’re his in a legal sense. you signed the papers, you made the vows—he sees it as something unbreakable and permanent. and the idea of you leaving? no. that’s not happening

has a hard time differentiating between love and control. nam-gyu doesn’t always realise when he’s being unreasonable, because to him, at least, getting engaged isn’t about keeping you under his thumb—it’s about making sure you don’t leave. you agreed to this. you’re his now. and that means something.

gets unreasonably affectionate when he knows you’re mad at him. you try to ignore him, but he keeps pressing into your space—an arm looping around your waist, his face buried in your neck, lips brushing your skin as he mumbles, you’re really gonna stay mad at your husband? it’s unfair how easily he wears you down.

thrives on the ‘newlywed’ effect. the first few months after your wedding, he plays into it hard. always using it as an excuse. i have to get home—i’m a married man now. or can you blame me? i just got married, of course i want to spend all my time with my wife. but even after the honeymoon phase passes, he still pulls that card when it suits him. especially when you try to push back against something he wants. so much for that ‘for better or worse’ vow, huh?

manipulates arguments into ‘tests of loyalty.’ you bring up a real issue? suddenly, it’s why are you turning against me? you’re upset with something he did? so much for ‘in sickness and in health.’ he doesn’t really believe in marriage vows, but he sure as hell knows how to use them.

finds ways to make sure you need him. maybe it’s handling the finances, maybe it’s subtly discouraging you from relying on anyone else. but little by little, he makes sure you don’t feel comfortable making decisions without him. why are you asking them? your husband’s right here. always with that slight edge to his voice, like it bothers him that you’d go to someone else first.

he likes things done his way but knows when to pick his battles. he lets you win the small ones—the paint colour of the walls, what takeout place you order from—but when it comes to bigger things, things that matter, he has a way of steering things back in his favour.

gets into the habit of taking things that belong to you. nothing major, just little things. a hair tie, a chapstick etc.

gets unreasonably possessive in public. his arm around your shoulders, his hand on your thigh, fingers laced with yours even when it’s inconvenient. he doesn’t like when people look at you too long, and if he catches someone staring, he won’t hesitate to make it known that you’re taken. a glare, a hand tightening around your waist. and later, when you’re alone? do you like it? when people look at you like that? a smirk, a tilt of his head, his fingers trailing up your spine. do you like making me jealous?

doesn’t really want kids, but if you do, he’ll act like he’s doing you a favour. if it’ll make you happy, fine. but he never fully steps into the role of a father. he sees them as extensions of you, not his. he’ll help when he feels like it, but the responsibility? that’s on your. and if they ever come before him? he makes sure you know it.

nam-gyu never lets you forget that you chose him. you said yes, remember? whenever you question things, whenever you feel trapped, he always reminds you—you agreed to this. you wanted this. and sometimes, when he’s kissing down your neck, when he’s got you needy and pliant under him, his voice drops to a soft murmur—no one else will love you like i do, baby. and the terrifying part is, you know he’s right.

[jisungiesvzz]

Hiii! Can u please write a similar one like ' give in to me' but a han version💗no rush or anything. I really like ur writing 🫶

I absolutely love this idea! Hope this wasn't too long of a wait :)

Unexpected?

Idol!Han x Choreographer Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing/making out, public touching (no one sees), neck kissing, fingering (f receiving), getting interrupted/caught

Word Count: 4k (don't look at me)

Author's Note: please let me know if I missed any warnings, this was rushed! And sorry for not posting in so long, I've been going thru it lately...

—— 

You’d spent the whole day with Han and his band members trying to teach them some new choreography. They’d asked you a couple days before if you’d teach them some dances just for fun and you happily agreed. 

It was past dinner time, nearly the middle of the night at this point, when you’d realized how late you’d stayed in the studio with the boys. You said your goodnights to each other and dispersed out of the studio.

You knew it was somewhat dangerous to walk home by yourself at this hour but you didn't want to bother anyone by asking for a ride. You’d made it a good few feet from the studio when you heard someone call out to you. You turned around to put a face to the voice, a slight smile spreading across your lips when you realized it was Han.

“Hey, do you need a ride back to your dorm?”

“Uh, no it's okay. I can walk, it’s not too far.”

A frown had formed on Han’s face at your response, like it wasn't the answer he was looking for. "Y/n, there's no way I'm letting you walk back at this hour."

"But—"

"Uh-uh," Han cut you off before you could protest and pointed to his car, "To the vehicle, right now. You're coming with us."

You couldn't help but smile at his stubbornness as he walked up to you from behind and guided you to the car by your shoulders. When you arrived at the car, Han opened the door for you, revealing his bandmates inside.

"Alright guys, make some room. Y/n's coming with us!"

"I call dibs on Jeongin!" Hyunjin happily pointed at Jeongin from the backseat, then grabbed his collar to drag him to the back, earning a fake disgusted face from the younger boy.

"Yah! Channie-hyung save me!" Jeongin wailed, and you couldn't help but laugh at their antics.

After a couple moments of commotion, you and Han finally settled into the middle row. The car ride was pretty mellow, except for the music playing on the radio and playful comments from one of the boys every now and then. You tried to stay awake but your exhaustion that accumulated throughout the day had slowly started to creep up on you and you dozed off.

———

You felt a hand running soothingly through your hair and you subconsciously nuzzled into it. The hand traveled down to cup your cheek and ran a thumb softly across it. You were slowly woken up when you felt someone press their lips to the top of your head and softly speak to you, "Y/n… y/n wake up, we're here."

You finally stirred awake, blinking away your sleep. When you came to your senses, you realized you had fallen asleep on Han's shoulder. You quickly lifted your head off his shoulder, slightly flustered from having fallen asleep on him, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep..."

"Don't be, you're cute when you sleep," Han gave an innocent grin, sending hundreds of butterflies flying through your stomach. You tried to hide the blush creeping across your face by looking around the car, only to notice that everyone was gone. It made your heart flutter more to know it was just you and Han in the car. It also made you wonder how long you two had been alone for.

"They went inside a couple minutes ago," Han whispered, as if he somehow read your mind.

"Ah, I see…" you whispered back, not trusting yourself to look at him so you stared down at your fidgeting hands.

You didn't realized how close you were to him until you felt his breath on your neck. Han gently grabbed your chin and tilted your head to look at him. Your faces were mere inches apart and your heart skipped a beat. He leaned even closer, looking down at your lips with lidded eyes, your breath hitching when his lips faintly grazed yours, his thumb caressing your cheek, slowly teasing you with how close he was.

Suddenly, Han's phone began ringing. He softly scoffed with a smirk before pulling away, looking at his phone to see who was calling. "Of course… " Han sighed, picking up the call.

You were stunned, frozen in place for a moment while your mind was racing to try and fathom the moment.

Did that really just happen? Was he going to kiss me?

You forced yourself to shove your thoughts aside when you heard Chan's semi-concerned voice on the other end of the call, "Are you guys okay? You've been out there for awhile."

"Uh, yeah, I just woke her up," Han glanced at you for a moment with an expression you couldn't decipher in time before he continued talking to Chan. "We're gonna head inside now."

Han ended the call then shifted across the seats to open the car door. You were caught off guard when he took your hand and guided you outside the car. As he led you up to the dorm, you couldn't help but think about the moment you two shared not even a couple minutes ago. It wasn't unusual for you and Han to share small affectionate moments like holding hands and things like that but it was never something more — never like… that. Han was being so calm about it that you began to think it never even happened, that maybe you were overthinking the situation. No way you were.

You shook your thoughts away when you arrived at the dorm. The group of boys were splayed out across the couch watching some drama on the TV. Some of them spared you glances of acknowledgment, but most of their attention remained on the show. A part of you was relieved they paid little to no mind to your entrance because you realized that you and Han were still holding hands.

Han led you down the hallway towards his room, not letting go of your hand until the door was closed. He walked further into the room, turning a corner — disappearing from your view. You awkwardly stood by the door, not sure if he wanted you to follow him or not. A few seconds later, he peeked his head around the corner. His eyes subtly ran up and down your body before he let out a soft chuckle at your awkwardness.

"I don't bite, you know," he grinned before disappearing from your view again. You sarcastically laughed at his comment before heading towards the section of the room he was in. When you turned the corner, you found Han racking through some of his clothes, eventually picking up two black hoodies; different in size.

"Which one do you want wear?" Han held the hoodies out in front of him for you to observe.

"Oh- uh it's okay I don't—"

"Y/n, please, I can see the goosebumps on your arms," he cut you off, a knowing look on his face. You opened your mouth to counter his statement but immediately took it back when his gaze intensified, as if warning you he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You let out a sigh before choosing the bigger hoodie of the two. Once you made your decision, Han swiftly pulled the other one over his head. You frowned at him, "If I had known you were gonna wear the one I didn't choose, I would've taken the smaller one."

Han chuckled at your comment, "Just put on your sweater, jagiya." Your heart fluttered at the sudden pet name, butterflies forming in your stomach when he took a few steps closer to you. His hands grazed over yours as he grabbed the hoodie and helped you pull it over your head, wrapping his hands around the back of your neck to pull your hair out from underneath the hoodie. Your mind was becoming fuzzy from the gesture, deciding to distract yourself from his lingering hands by 'readjusting' the bottom area of the garment.

You let out a sigh when his hands started carding through your hair, lightly grazing your scalp; not enough to massage but enough to grasp your attention. When you didn't look at him, he tilted your head back by lightly tugging at the strands of your hair, eliciting a shocked, quiet gasp from you.

It was like you were in the car all over again, your faces just inches apart — the gap closing. His lips grazed yours, your breath hitching when his thumb came to graze across your bottom lip. He couldn't bare the distance anymore as he cupped your cheeks and pressed his lips against yours. You melted into his touch, placing your arms around his neck. He leaned your head to the side to deepen the kiss by tugging on your hair again and you whined into his mouth. You felt him smirk against your lips and your knees nearly buckled when he ran his tongue along your bottom lip teasingly.

One of Han's hands trailed down your body, lightly massaging your waist as he backed you up against the wall, never faltering from the kiss. You gasped into his mouth at the impact and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth with a quiet groan. In desperate need to ground yourself with something, anything, your hands flew to his hair, intertwining with the strands.

Han was the first to pull away, leaning his forehead against yours, both of you left breathless. Your heart was beating through your chest as you untangled your hands from his hair. Before you could place them anywhere else, he took one of your hands in his and laced his fingers with yours, another wave of butterflies flowing through you at the gesture. For a moment, only heavy breathes and lingering looks were shared; your mind still processing.

Han leaned in closer, as if to kiss you again when suddenly, there was a loud knock on the bedroom door, making both of you nearly jump out of your skin. You immediately separated from each other when you heard the door open and footsteps gradually coming closer.

"Where are you guys?" you heard Chan call out, hearing a tint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Uh, the c-closet," Han replied back, rubbing the back of his neck — you could see his cheeks turning a slight crimson color, surely not as obvious as your flushed cheeks though. His sudden flustered state was shocking to you as he had just made the first move not too long ago.

Chan came into view as Hyunjin curiously popped his head around the corner. "Are you guys okay?" Chan asked, furrowing his brows when he felt some tension in the room. Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously and your shoulders subtly tensed more from his gaze. Could he tell?

You tried to shrug it off and make something up but your mind was still elsewhere. Han quickly stepped in, "Yeah, we're fine. Just… talking."

"Wait a minute," Hyunjin said, readjusting himself so he was no longer peeking inside the room. His finger pointed between you and Han and you felt like your heart was about to stop, "Are you wearing Han's hoodie?"

You began stumbling over your words, heat rising to your cheeks and you turned your head away when Han spoke up again, recomposing himself. "Uh, she was cold earlier, so I gave it to her."

Hyunjin pressed his tongue against his cheek, side eyeing you as he began to take a few steps out of the closet, "Mhm, for sure."

Chan rolled his eyes and shooed Hyunjin off as he giggled to himself all the way out the door. Chan remained in the closet doorway as you and Han avoided eye contact with him.

"Okay, I don't know what's happening here and I honestly don't want to know," Chan admitted, letting out a deep sigh. "Just… hurry up and come join us. I can't take another moment of them complaining about your guys' absence," he continued, partially talking to himself as he walked out the door.

Han let out a soft chuckle once he was sure it just you two in the room again. You looked at him with a confused expression, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he gave you a small smile before taking your hand in his and leading you to the living room. You were sure you were redder than a tomato now. "Let's go join the others."

——

It had been a couple hours since you and Han had your little… moment. You had joined the members in the TV room, settling down on one end of the couch. Han had sat next to you, his arm draped over your shoulder with a blanket spread across both your laps. Hyunjin and Felix were on the couch next to you while the rest of the boys were hurdled around the living room floor or leaning against the couch.

You'd managed to calm your nerves down a bit, choosing to intensely focus on the drama playing on the TV instead of how Han's hand seemed to be inching closer to your thigh every few seconds. When his hand finally grazed over your thigh under the blanket, you shuffled in your seat a bit, earning a cocky grin from Han. He fully rested his hand on your inner thigh causing your breath to hitch. Lee Know, who was resting in front of the couch by your feet, noticed your movements and turned to look at you.

"Are you okay?" he mouthed, brows furrowing with genuine concern. You simply nodded your head, not trusting even the smallest whisper to come out of your mouth that could expose how aroused you were becoming. Han firmly squeezed your thigh and you bit back a whine when his hand traveled up to caress the waistband of your sweatpants. You cleared your throat, sitting up on the couch.

"Uh, I'm just gonna go to the bathroom really quick." With that, you sprung off the couch, urgently heading towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway — just out of view from the members.

You had opened the door when someone came up behind you and dragged you inside. From the corner of your eye, you recognized Han and before you could say anything, he was closing the door and pushing you up against the wall, his arms landing on either side of your head, caging you in. Your hands instinctively flew up to his chest to steady yourself, palms trembling when you felt his toned muscles.

"H-Han, what are you— " you were cut off when Han smashed his lips against yours. He pressed his hips against you as he kissed you slow and sloppy. You practically moaned into his mouth from the friction of his hips and he pushed his tongue into your mouth earning a real moan from you.

The sounds you were making seemed to spur him on more and he groaned, his hands flying to your hips to guide you against him. He broke from the heated kiss, wrapping his hands under your thighs to turn you around and lift you onto the bathroom counter.

"Fuck, baby I need you," he groaned, instantly connecting his lips to your neck and you whimpered into his shoulder when he nipped at the sensitive spot just below your ear, running his tongue along the same area to sooth it. He repeated the movements, nipping and licking at the sweet spot on your neck, lightly massaging your thighs as you moaned and whimpered against him.

His hands trailed to the waistband of your pants, tugging at the fabric. You grinded your hips forward and he took that as a sign to take them off, instantly doing so. His hand went down to your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles on it over your underwear. You moaned at the new sensation, rocking your hips against him as your hands flew to his hair.

"F-fuck, Hannie wait—" you whimpered, slightly moving your head back to look at him. Han pressed his lips against yours in a quick sensual kiss before pulling back, giving you a curious expression before letting you speak — his hand never faltering its movements on your clit.

"The m-members could hear us," you managed to whine out, feeling your orgasm approaching. You let out a guttural moan when Han moved your underwear aside and inserted two of his digits into you, curling them against your g-spot effortlessly, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers as you were on the brink of your orgasm.

"By the way you're clenching around my fingers, it looks like you're rather enjoying the idea of that," he slyly grinned, attaching his lips to your collarbone and sucking hard. You threw your head back, body tensing and legs shaking as your release hit you like a title wave. You tried to close your legs to stop him from stimulating your overly sensitive clit but his hips were in the way, keeping you open for him to fuck his fingers into you how he pleases.

"H-Hannie, it's too m-much," you whimpered trying to remove his hands from your clit and clenching hole but he only quickened his pace in response. You moaned, even louder than before, as your second orgasm crashed over you unannounced, more intense than you've ever felt.

"Yeah, that's it, let it out," Han cooed into your ear, continuing to massage your bundle of nerves and spreading your release along your inner thighs when you jolted from overstimulation. He placed soft kisses along your neck, massaging your waist and hips while you came down from your high. You lightly tugged at the strands of hair on the back of his head, pulling his attention to your face.

“Hannie,” you whispered, eyes flickering to his lips as you caught your breath. His expression was still filled with need, his grip on your hips strong, as if he was trying to hold himself back — to ground himself. “What was that about?”

“I uh- I just… something came over me, I guess,” he let out with a breathy chuckle.

“Oh? Something came over you?” you repeated his words, quirking a brow at him with a knowing look. He grinned, leaning closer so your lips were inches apart.

“After we kissed earlier, I couldn’t stop thinking about…” he paused for a second, gazing down at your lips and licking his own, lowering his voice. “About kissing you again.”

“You sure that’s all you thought about?” you teased. He lowly chuckled, rubbing your thighs and you softly gasped.

“Hm, maybe I thought of more… lewd things,” he softly kissed you, shifting closer to you and you felt his hard-on rub against your thigh. He spoke in a low, sultry tone, pressing his hips flesh with yours as a whine escaped your lips, “Let me show you.”

His lips instantly reconnected with yours as his hands flew down to his pants to undo his belt. Your hands worked their way to his shirt to lift it over his head but your movements were stopped when you heard a loud knock on the door. You both immediately froze when Chan spoke through the door, "Y/n, you okay in there?"

"Uh, I- yeah I'm okay!" you stammered out, reaching to pull your pants back up. Han didn't care about his own disheveled state as he helped fix up your clothes and smooth out your hair. When you went to stand up off the counter, you landed directly on Han's foot, a loud groan fell from his lips as you both stumbled back against the opposite wall, your hands flying to his chest to soften your fall as you hit the wall with a thud. Han groaned again when his head hit the wall, rubbing the back of his head and holding his mouth, hoping to muffle his sounds of pain. You frantically whispered apologies to him, instantly shutting up when he placed his hand over your mouth, his finger coming to his own in a shushing motion.

Outside the door, Chan heard the quiet commotion inside, his heart dropping for a split second when he heard the thud. He knocked on the door a little more frantically this time, "Y/n, what was that noise? Are you okay?"

You and Han didn't hear him over your quiet panic, completely missing how he had opened the door and was now standing in the doorway, mouth agape. His eyes went back and forth between the two of you, taking note of your messy hair, his brows furrowing with realization when he noticed Han's shirt half ridden up and belt unbuckled. Han was quick to speak up, "Wait, Chan we can—"

Chan cut him off, a mischievous smile spreading across his face, "Huh, is this what you were doing in the closet earlier?"

You were stunned. Both from the fact of being caught in such a compromising act but more from the fact of how nonchalant Chan was being about the whole situation. Your jaw went slack, heat washing over your face as words failed to leave your mouth. Han's face was completely flushed, turning his head in the other direction as Chan let out an amused chuckle.

"Ah, I see. I'll leave— " Your heart dropped again when you heard curious voices down the hallway, interrupting Chan's train of thought.

"Channie-hyung, is everything alright back there?" you heard Jeongin call out.

"Yeah, we heard some commotion from the—" Felix cut his sentence short when he reached the bathroom door, freezing in place when he saw the disheveled state you and Han were in. Chan sighed, placing his hand on Felix's shoulder, slightly shaking it to stop him from staring.

"Uh… I'm just gonna go," Felix awkwardly said, pointing down the hallway. Thankfully, on his way out he ran into Jeongin, leading the poor boy down the hallway as he fought him back, confused on what was happening.

You were on the verge of crawling out of your skin, shoulders tensed and heat creeping up your neck as embarrassment washed over you. You were already overwhelmed from Han suddenly making out with you and the additional attention of some of the members had your hands shaking.

Han seemed to noticed your anxiety and he practically leapt forward, shooing Chan out of the doorway and shutting the door. He turned back around to look at you, only to find that you were facing away from him, head in your hands.

"Y/n…?" he said softly, taking a few steps forward, unsure of what you were feeling. When you didn't say anything, only letting out a soft sigh, he carefully wrapped his arms around your waist and held your hands, resting his head on your shoulder when you didn't pull away from his initial actions.

"Did I over step?" his voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "I'm sorry if—"

"No, no, no, it's not you," you quickly reassured him, squeezing his hand. "A lot just happened in the past, like, twenty minutes. I guess I just need a minute…?"

He nuzzled his face into your neck, humming in agreement, sending tingles down your spine. After a moment, you felt him press a feather light kiss right below your ear, your breath hitching.

"Uh— Han what are you…"

"Hm, it's been a minute," Han slyly grinned, your mouth opening and closing in shock.

"Oh my gosh, Han that's not what I meant," you giggled when he squeezed your hips, pressing more kisses along your neck. Through your laughter you hadn't realized that he had unhooked himself from you and turned you around to lead your back towards the wall again. Once your back was pressed against the wall, your laughter quieted down and the air between the two of you became thick again. You softly gasped when he leaned closer and you felt something hard against your leg.

A tempting smirk spread across his face as he grazed his lips against yours, "I think we have some unfinished business."

[submattsmxmmy]

roughdom!stepbro!chris x bratty!stepsis!reader

🖤 content warning: smut, stepsibling kink, daddy kink, mentions of porn, posessiveness, praise/degradation, biting, kinda risky, unprotected rough sex

🖤 summary: your stepbrother, chris, gets jealous when he sees you flirting with another man - and not just any man, but one who's nothing like him.

hiiii it's me, @ariestrxsh. if you don't fw the stepcest shit, then idk what to tell you. lmao. don't read this shit. sorry mom, sorry god, and sorry chris sturniolo, if you ever see this deranged, god-forsaken piece of writing.

holdyourbreath

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

The sun was beginning to descend below the horizon line as Chris turned down his street, indie music playing softly through his speakers.

He didn't think much of the old, beige sedan sitting in the driveway when he got home, except for being slightly annoyed that it was in his spot. He figured you had a girlfriend staying the night who didn't know he always parked there or something.

He let out an agitated sigh as he pulled up beside the curb and cut the engine. He made his way up the driveway with a basketball under his arm and his t-shirt clinging to his sweat-covered chest.

He turned the knob and stepped inside. He cracked a subtle smirk at the sound of your laugh, a noise that once would have made him roll his eyes. He hated that you were secretly growing on him - or maybe he liked it. He wasn't completely sure yet.

The smile on his face faded quickly when he heard a second voice - a man's voice. He quickly made his way into the kitchen, envy already brewing inside of him.

He burst through the door to find you sitting across from a dark-haired boy, batting your lashes and twirling your hair around your finger as you thoughtlessly giggled at every word he said. You jumped as if you were doing something wrong when your eyes flew up and noticed Chris.

You took note of his flushed, pink cheeks, his tired, blue eyes, and his sweaty brown hair sticking to his forehead. You adored the way he looked when he'd just finished up playing basketball or working out, but you didn't let your glance linger for long.

"Hi, Chris," you casually mumbled before turning your attention back to the boy sitting across from you. "Hey. What's up? I'm Josh," the man said, getting up from his chair and extending a hand for Chris to shake.

"You parked in my spot," Chris shot back, peering down at Josh's hand with a look of contempt and silently rejecting his polite gesture.

"Sorry. You'll have to excuse my stepbrother. No one ever taught him manners or how to use the bathroom without getting piss on the toilet seat," you remarked in a snide tone as Chris pushed past him.

"So, uh, what do you think?" Josh asked, redirecting you back to what you two were talking about before Chris interrupted. "I love all your ideas," you giggled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and licking your lips as you looked at Josh.

The boy across from you may have been oblivious to your flirtatious demeanor, but Chris clocked it right away. "God, could ya be any more fuckin' desperate?" Chris mumbled under his breath as he swung open the door of the fridge.

"What was that?" You wondered, stopping your conversation and turning your attention to your stepbrother who wasn't taking the hint that you wanted to be left alone with Josh, or so you thought.

He actually was getting the hint. He was just blatantly ignoring it.

"I said, what're ya guys workin' on?" Chris asked, but it wasn't so much that he was genuinely curious as much as he was trying to figure out how much longer he was going to have to endure the jealousy of watching you pathetically throw yourself at another man.

"We're working on building our argument for our debate class. We were all paired off, given a controversial topic, and we have to present our arguments next week to the opposing side," you responded, fidgeting with your pencil.

"What's the controversial topic?" Chris asked, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth. He loved contentious subjects and arguing. "The subject is pornography and whether it's pro or anti-feminist," you replied.

"Oh, yeah?" Chris asked, the topic piquing his interest. "What's your argument, kid?" Chris asked, cracking open a can of Pepsi and leaning against the counter. He was eager to hear your take on the subject.

"Our argument is that it's anti-feminist. It prioritizes male pleasure, gives unhealthy and unrealistic expectations about sex, and it's just overall degrading and exploitative," you casually stated, shrugging your shoulders. Chris scoffed. "Isn't that kinda sexist of you to say?" He shot back, sipping from his Pepsi can.

"What are you talking about?" You huffed back, crossing your arms and glaring in his direction. "Well, isn't it kind of infantalizing to assume that any woman who is in the porn industry is only doin' it because she's bein' exploited? Why can't a woman just become a porn star because she wants to?" Chris asked, sounding rather genuine.

You were at a loss for words, unsure of how to combat Chris' argument. "And what about the girls who like bein' degraded? What about the girls who like watchin' shit like that?" He added.

"What's your point, Chris?" You scoffed. "It's anti-feminist for you to assume that porn only exists for male pleasure when women probably get off to it just as much," Chris stated a valid point before taking a sip of his soda.

"Whatever, Chris. You wouldn't know feminism if it sat on your face," you rolled your eyes, dismissing his comments. "What? You tellin' me you've never gotten off to that shit? Maybe even the rough stuff?" Chris snarked, deviously grinning at you, his eyes scanning you up and down as if he were calculating the exact categories you were into.

Your stare grew wide, and your cheeks grew hot. You couldn't believe Chris was putting you in this position in front of your classmate you were secretly crushing on.

Josh sat quietly, wide-eyed and mouth agape as he listened to the two of you bicker back and forth, astonished that step siblings felt so comfortable talking to each other about hardcore porn.

"Chris! I-," you started to say, but your breath hitched in your throat. "I'm not saying- Look, Chris. We were given a topic and told which side we had to argue for. That's the key to being good at debate, is being able to argue both sides regardless of how you personally feel about the subject. My thoughts on it are completely irrelevant."

"Right, but don't you have to really believe what you're saying to be good at arguing your side? You know my room's right next to yours, right?" Chris shot back, insinuating he knew something. His lips curled into a sadistic smile, knowing he was humiliating you. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

"Chris, can I talk to you in private?" You narrowed your gaze at him. "Yeah, sure. Whatever," he scoffed and rolled his gorgeous, blue eyes.

You excused yourself, and you and Chris headed upstairs. You led him into your bedroom, and you shut the door behind the two of you before you whipped around and glared at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You sternly questioned him. "What the fuck do ya think you're doin'? That guy?" Chris blurted out, surprised that you'd be into such a docile man.

"What? He's a nice guy," you defended Josh. "You don't want a nice guy," Chris chuckled, giving you a dark smirk. "You don't know what I want," you replied. "Sure, I do. I think I know whatcha want better than you do," he cooed, reaching up and softly running his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Chris. I really like him. Please don't embarrass me in front of him," you whispered, giving Chris a somber look. "You'd get bored of him. Bet he could never fuck you as good as I do," Chris purred, stepping closer to you and studying your expression.

"Are you.. jealous?" You wondered, a satisfied grin spreading across your lips. "No," Chris sneered. "Of course I'm not jealous. I just know what ya need better than anyone else." Chris firmly grabbed your jaw and pinned you between the door and his body.

"Chris -" you started to retort, but he cut you off by pressing his lips into yours. You softly moaned into his mouth as his free hand flew to his waistband, pulling his cock free from his shorts.

You immediately felt all your willpower to stop him leave your body, and you relaxed into his kiss. You felt his drooling tip brush against the inside of your thigh as he hiked up your skirt and roughly pulled your panties to the side.

You felt the cool air rush over your exposed heat while Chris ran the head of his cock along your sensitive clit. You shuddered at the sensation. As he slipped it into your entrance, he bit down on the soft flesh of your bottom lip, leaving it swollen and bruised as he slowly pulled away.

"Awh, she's so happy to see me," Chris cooed, smirking up at you as he sunk his length all the way in, feeling the way you stretched around him.

"She thought she was gonna have to settle for that loser downstairs, huh? Don't worry, baby. Daddy's home now," Chris grunted, jerking his hips forward and starting to pump in and out of you at a rough pace as you hooked one leg around his waist.

You threw your head back, and a soft thump sounded as you made contact with the door behind you. A loud moan escaped your lips at the way Chris spoke to you coupled with the way he brutally pounded into you.

He thought about covering your mouth, but a sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he imagined the boy downstairs, possibly hearing the two of you. "Can't stay quiet, huh? Is my dick really that good or do ya just really want Josh to know how good I'm fuckin' ya?" Chris chuckled into your ear.

Your eyes rolled back, and a subtle smile crept into your expression. You were too fucked out to even answer him.

"Be a good girl and take it," Chris groaned, leaning in and latching onto your neck. The faint, sweet smell of his natural musk filled your senses, heightening every touch. He began suckling on the soft skin above your collar bone, listening to the pretty sounds that fell from your tender lips.

His fingertips dug into your sides, leaving red prints on your flesh through the fabric of your clothing. You couldn't get enough of the way he manhandled you, the way he touched, licked, and bit at you like it was all that you were good for, marking you up with his perfect teeth while he pounded away.

"You're gonna leave a bruise," you weakly told him, but you said it as more of a lustful observation than a warning or a request for him to let up. You secretly liked the idea of him claiming you as with a hickey in such a visible place, knowing you'd have to hide it from Josh when you got back downstairs.

"That's not the only thing I'm gonna leave bruised," Chris teased you, talking into the crook of your neck. You could already feel the knot forming in the pit of your stomach, a testament to the effect Chris had on you.

Your hands were draped around the back of his neck, clawing at his t-shirt as your legs grew weak. "Daaaddy," your quiet voice trembled like you were talking while driving over a cattleguard due to how mercilessly Chris was fucking you.

"What was that?" Chris inquired through his breathlessness, slowing down his thrusts. "No, no. Please don't stop," you begged through your panting. "Then tell me what you said," Chris murmured, his intense blue eyes locked on yours.

"Nothing," you whispered, feeling your face grow hot from letting that word slip out. You knew you'd never hear the end of it.

"Mhmm. Sure," Chris smirked and narrowed his gaze at you before he went back to his fast, hard movements, bottoming out with every stroke. It didnt take long before you picked up right where you left off, your stomach doing twists and turns as Chris rearranged your guts with his unrelenting cock.

He was going at it so hard that the door was jiggling against the frame and making a sound as if someone was trying to repeatedly open it. Your body started shaking uncontrollably at the whole situation and how Chris didn't care that you had company sitting at the kitchen table. He was going to take you however and whenever he wanted.

"Be a good girl and cum all over daddy's cock," Chris cooed, feeling you begin to rhythmically clench around him. You were fighting for your life, biting back the sensual sounds that desperately wanted to make themselves known as your orgasm tore through you.

The feeling of you finishing onto him caused a ripple effect. His length twitched inside of you, filling you up with his white, sticky cum as he moaned into your ear. He followed it up with a faint chuckle, his breath tickling your neck as he found amusement in how easily you always gave into him.

He pulled himself out of you, leaving his seed leaking onto the inside of your thigh as he did so. "Such a fuckin' slut," Chris teased.

"Okay, don't keep your prude boyfriend waiting too much longer or else he might start suspecting something," Chris winked at you, keeping his voice low. You took a few deep breaths. You tugged down the hem of your skirt, smoothing out the fabric to conceal the mess Chris had made between your legs.

"Chris. Can you please just give me and Josh some privacy while we work on our project?" You asked, considering that was the whole reason you'd asked to talk to him in the first place.

"I'll keep my mouth shut, but I'm not leaving you alone with some other guy. Not a fuckin' chance," Chris answered, his voice thick with jealousy as he bore into your stare with his own.

You spun around, cleared your throat, and popped open the door. Chris delivered a harsh smack on your ass as you stepped out into the hallway. You let out a small squeal and swatted his hand away with your own, but you otherwise ignored his gesture.

The two of you descended the stairs. Chris made his way back over to the fridge to poke around for something to eat. You draped a thick strand of your hair over the red spot on your neck and sucked in your swollen lip as you sat back down across from your classmate.

"Sorry about that. My stepbrother won't be bothering us anymore," you calmly said. "How'd you get him to do that?" Josh asked, furrowing his brow at how quiet Chris was now compared to how loud-mouthed and obnoxious he was being ten minutes ago.

"I have my ways," you replied through a subtle smirk.

(guys don't worry I'll do a part five 💖)

[jaggedamethyst]

boy savor ⏳✨

ekko (arcane) x f!reader

content: ekko using time...to his advantage

18+ minors dni, smut, porn w/slight plot, edging, soft, (just trust me ik they sound different lmao), oral (f!receiving), complicated/ unlabeled relationship, angst, mentions of death, not proofread

notes: i am a timebomb truther but this is set after the whole ordeal so literally months if not a year or more after the finale...and no the title isn't spelled wrong just read it.

main master list

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You and Ekko found each other after everything. He’d lost his friend—and something more—when Jinx disappeared. Ekko had remained steadfast; she wasn’t dead, couldn’t be. You would nod, affirming him. You understood what others might deem delusion—and empathized with the desire to have someone be alive. 

For you, it was your dad. Like many others you were sent away—forced to join the herds of people who piled up to leave town. This came, of course, in spite of what you wanted. If it was up to you, you’d have stayed. You would’ve died alongside your father. Instead, you were left to wonder if he even actually was gone. With a body never actually being found it was hard to not think other wise.

The relationship between you and Ekko went unlabeled and remains that way. You both could agree, though, that in the midst of the pain the presence of each other filled a void that would persist for years. Deep down you knew that if Jinx did ever show up he would leave without a second thought. But the gentleness he held with you was enough to make the thought a throwaway. 

In a single word, you would quickly describe Ekko as tender. When you were together the just barely there touches and faint grasps made you feel light—as if you could escape him at any moment. Freeing yourself was the last thing on your mind, though. You’d stay with him, like this, in any timeline…forever.

“Can I try something?” Ekko spoke between breaths, lips kissing on the inner skin of your thighs. He’d paused his devouring of you to glance up, motioning next to him. 

“Uh huh,” you were close. The question hadn’t made a difference to you. You didn’t bother to look in the direction he waved. Whatever he did, whatever he intended to try—you would still unravel in a few seconds. If there was no other proof, the heat emanating off of you would be enough. 

A second later, the sound of a clattering filled the room. The fire in you tamed a bit and Ekko had his lips wrapped around your clit again. Just as he had before speaking up. You panted, feeling his breath fanning over you. He continued to move his entire mouth into you, sucking and moving up and down with an urgency that had your legs twisting erratically. 

Ekko slipped in two fingers, then, pulsing them in and out of you at a steady tempo that made you whine. The sound was melodic for him—it made him want to do this a thousand more times, and he would. 

“Can I try something?”

Without thinking, you replied, “Uh huh.”

The phrase felt sticky on your tongue, as if it had left a residue lingering there. You blinked, looking beside you as Ekko fumbled for the counter. He moved up your body, kissing over your chest as he pulled on a string. 

In an incomprehensible moment of time, his lips found you again. Ekko moved against you and you writhed as a result. He felt your body lift and looked up through his lashes to examine you. A smirk found the space between you, a sheen over the bottom half of his face. 

“What?” He asked as he moved a finger to push your clit up and down. The steady and slow pressure was one you loved—and it almost always had you fumbling for him like you were now. The heat found you, again, and gave you pause. A hand found the top of his head grasping at his hair for relief, the fleeting feeling of déjà vu causing you to yank his head up. 

“Ekko-“ 

“You said I could try something…”

Creating a tool to wield time in the palm of his hand was single handedly the pinnacle of Ekko’s existence and nothing else came close to it. Nothing except his ability to use it to his advantage. He loved the sensation of you pulsing against him, the inadvertent response to his body on yours. He could bask in the sound of your quickened breaths, survive off of the feeling of your fingers clawing at him. Every movement that even resembled you finishing for him made him desire the sight, feeling, and sound even more. 

He tapped around, finding the string much easier this time. He had, after all, done this before. Ekko’s fingers twisted and nudged the dial back an additional few seconds. You watched the world seem to warp around you and your sentience of the current moment seem to slip away. 

The sound of his name teetered on your lips again, dragging at the feel of your climax reverting back to being just on the edge of explosion. 

He was still so delicate with you, savoring every moment he had with you. He spoke quickly, “You okay?” 

You sucked in your own lips, stifling a moan. “Mhm.” 

“Knew you could handle it.” 

You nodded, not speaking but revelling in the feeling—inching on the precipice of finally finishing, again that was. 

Ekko had never done this before, tortured you so sweetly in this way. Going back every few seconds added a weight to you that was surprisingly comforting. Reverting to a moment in time, just before he had you fully undone, welled tears in your eyes. 

He licked and slurped you, his fingers again pushing in and out of you. Ekko let his other hand snake up and kneed into the warmth of your stomach. Your lower half began to match his rhythm, swirling up and around in circles. 

“I’m,” you sucked in a sharp breath, “I’m gonna-“ 

He heard the slurred words. The moist sound of your words was an indicator, too. Every detail about you was intoxicating. He couldn’t think too far ahead, just for now. 

Ekko became more fervent, speeding up every pace he’d found. You could no longer keep up; you let the feeling of him guide you. The once slowly building embers snapped in you and jolted your entire body in half—your spine finding its way away from the mattress. 

He crawled up, kissing your lips sweetly until he’d lost breath…and when he did, a crank filled the room. He’d kiss you forever if he could—and with time at the palm of his hands, he’d make sure this feeling would last a lifetime. 

[reallyromealone]

Title: autographs

Fandom: DC

Characters: wonder woman, batfam

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Bruce x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, ftm reader, fluff, sexual themes between Bruce and reader(mentions of sexual things like slick and such)(they get interrupted by the children and reader simps for his husband), the bat kids are kids, happy family, reader is a stay at home dad

Notes:

Summary:reader works hard to care for his big family and Bruce decides to swallow his pride and get his husband and son an autograph of a hero the two love

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bruce sighed while holding two photos of wonder woman for said woman to sign.

The things he did for the ones he loved.

His husband and second eldest loved her, watching her fights on the tv and Bruce knew they were too shy to ask him to get autographs but he was willing to do this for them... Their faces would be worth it.

Finding her was easy, the woman towering over her peers with Amazonian height "wonder Woman, I need to speak with you for a moment" Bruce spoke seriously and Diana raised an eyebrow but followed him into another room of the watchtower "what's the matter, batman?" She asked seriously and Bruce sighed "I have a request..." He pulled out the photos "my husband and son are quite the fans of you and are too nervous to meet you themselves..."

"They want autographs?" She said with a soft smile "yes, they look up to you quite a bit"

"If you ever want, I could always make an appearance for them" she signed the pictures and handed them to him "I think Jason would lose his mind at that"

"And (name)?"

"Would explode"

"Well I guess I should make a trip to Gotham sometime"

"Perhaps you should"

(Name) Was helping Alfred with chores, handling the laundry while having his children help via making it a game "gogo! Throw it as fast as you can!" The fastest kid to throw their laundry in the machine got two packets of gummy Candy's instead of one! Little baby Damien strapped to his chest while Tim and Duke tried to put their combined laundry together while Jason and Dick cheered them on, as the older ones they knew they could reasonably get a snack whenever but the littles didn't have that freedom get because they would have another juice incident.

The girls were out with (name)s mother for the day, having some girl time without the boys and all the chaos that came with them.

Frankly (name) was happy that his mom was willing to take a role like that on, offering the girls a female role model of realistic expectations was critical at such a young age.

"Woooo! You guys did great!" The boys cheered, happy they 'won' but actually just helped do chores "now why don't you follow your brothers for a snack?" He ushered the boys out and they cheered at the extra snack and (name) Pat the elder twos heads while Damien whined "yeah yeah, it's naptime buddy..." (Name) Unhooked him and brought him up to his nursery, kissing his little head "you get good sleep and dream good stuff for me, alright?" The babe babbled and (name) began mumbling a lullaby, gently rocking the crib.

Eventually Damian fell asleep and (name) went to go check on his hellions he lovingly called children and smiled when he saw them playing video games, the littles on auto mode as they haven't quite figured out how to properly play video games but still be included. He loved that his kids got along so well-- well most of the time.

Deciding to take a minute, he slinked down into the cave for a needed moment alone without his little ones making demands, Alfred keeping an ear for them and with a baby monitor he decided to take a nap on the small seating area in the corner while he waited for Bruce to return. Taking care of eight children was no easy feat but him and Bruce made it work, it being the weekend the whole family was home, typically it was school and preschool, little Damien and Cass with a nanny while (name) helped Alfred or was out with Bruce doing public things.

(Name) Woke to the sound of the engine of the batmobile, lifting his body to see Bruce step up in full suit and made no attempts in hiding his blatantly roaming eyes "you see something you like?" Bruce teased taking off his cowl and (name) hummed "you have no idea..." The man was ready to climb the dark knight like a tree and do things most unholy.

"Well hold onto that, I have something for you" Bruce teased and pulled out a rolled picture and handed it to (name) gently unrolled it "no fucking way..." (Name) Whispered before looking at him "babe... You got her autograph?!" He jumped up and Bruce chuckled "she was more than happy to sigh for you and Jason" holding out the other picture (name) had a love sick smile on his face "oh he's gonna lose his mind, you're a good dad" (name) pulled Bruce close by his hips and kissed him gently "I try what I can..." Bruce mumbled and resumed kissing him, always a sucker for his husband's lips.

Jason was getting ready for bed when he saw the photo on his bed, immediately clutching the picture to see it's authenticity and hopped out of bed and ran down to his parents room and knocked on the door "papa? Dad?"

(Name) Froze his actions when he heard his son and looked at Bruce "sorry, baby" he whispered and they immediately put pants on, (name) wiping his thighs and cringing at the slick between his legs... "Eugh" he grumbled and pulled on Bruce's shirt before going and opening the door "what's up jaybird?" He asked his second eldest and let him in "look!" Jason showed the autograph "your dad got you that, why don't you go thank him?" (Name) Gestured to Bruce who smiled at his kid, Jason immediately running and hugging him "thank you! Thank you!" Bruce hugged him tight, kissing the top of his head aggressively and making the boy laugh "oh no! My son fell into the dad hug trap! He will never escape!" (Name) Teased quietly and Jason laughed and gave non committal plea for freedom and Bruce let him go but not without another kiss to the forehead.

"Now go back to bed, Birdy" (name) said to his son "you can show your brothers tomorrow, yeah?"

"Ok! Love you guys!"

"Love you too baby"

(Name) Waited till he couldn't hear the footsteps and immediately turned to look at Bruce "you're a good dad" he walked over and got situated in Bruce's lap, Bruce admiring his handsome husband who gently cupped his jawline "and you're a good husband for putting up with me"

"Someone's gotta make sure you take naps and eat" he teased the man who grumbled "and I gotta make sure you don't wear your binder too long" Bruce teased back and pinched (name)s butt cheek "yeah yeah!" He teased, the two grinning and kissing each other "now where were we?"

"now I kind of just wanna cuddle...."

".... What movie then"

"the princess Bride :)"

[dollwhite]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

Siren reader

Made by Dolling

Ps this was rushes at the least minute pls read my note at the end!!

Ok so imagine siren reader walking home from the grocery store? Right and like it’s the middle of the night crmnals and crooks r out. So siren reader is just walking with 2-3 bags filled with snacks and junk food when all of a sudden the young boy wonder jumps down infant of reader.

And gos like “Miss.. r you ok?”

AND you’re like “Oh yeah dude my days been great!” Because yeah u eat men but that doesn’t mean u have to be a villain. Like your just trying to live your life , ur taking a break from music, ur not really on social media anymore. Overall everything’s been good.

“Oh um well it’s a villain attack so I think u should go inside.”

That.. wasn’t what you were expecting?.. I mean you weren’t expecting a vigilante to drop down and ask u if you were ok in the first place. But it made you think?

What do you think about vigilantes.? You don’t hate them….. no but you don’t like them either. But this one? What was his name?.. Red Robin yeah that’s it Red Robin.

He could maybe change your mind about that, who ever is rising him their rising him right. But eh not really having a kid that looks no older than 16-17 fight villains like Joker and Bene weren’t good parenting choices. But what would you know? You didn’t have ANY kids or pets for that matter.

So you wouldn’t know anything about parenting but one thing you do know is that if you ever have a kid you wouldn’t want them fighting villains in their teenage years, that’s even worse than them going out partying or drinking.

“Oh would you look at the time, sorry kid I would love to stay and chat but I have to get home! Stay safe though.!!” You shouted, time passed quickly and before you even realized it had been 15 minutes. The trip to the store was only supposed to take at most 8 minutes, as you only like 3 minutes from the store.

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤

Bruce is going to kill him.. and that’s if the others don’t get to him first.

Tim doesn’t know why but… he was just drawn to you… but could you really blame him? Seeing someone carrying groceries bags in the middle of a big villain attack, wasn’t an every day thing. Maybe it was the way you just seemed to not care about your surroundings.

Or the fact that you were the only one not running indoors, trying to find shelter. Also the fact that your bags were fuller with junk food.

Shit what time is it? Before you run off Tim could have sworn you said something about it having been 15 minutes?? He hopes you read the time wrong.. because if you didn’t than Bruce was going to kill him.

He should start going, any minute now and the coms are going to be filled with them asking what’s taking him so long. He should get going now, when all of this is over. He’s going to look into you look about 21-24 You didn’t look that much older than him maybe more around Jason’s age or Dicks.

Nah you couldn’t be Jason’s age, When Jason died Tim research his class. And Tim never forgets a face if you were in Jason’s old class or school he would have recognized you at lest.

Maybe you’re younger than Jason? Maybe a year or two. Oh look his back at the manner….. in the cave.

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝

It was a good thing you were friends with ivy, if not?…. Your Condo would have been boomed a while ago. It was a crazy day to be a ‘hero’ glad you aren’t one. Your not a villain either

Your just a woman that eats men..

Today was chaotic to say the least. Five different villains had teamed up to take down the hero’s. This was not what you were expecting when moving toGotham, maybe you should go back to star city or just somewhere. You chose Gotham because wellll… it’s a shity place with shity people.

Mostly Man but, it was a lot easier getting man to follow you. All you had to really do was go to a club or bar and just take them to the back.

Hiii so Dolling here I just wanted to say this is kinda short notice because my internet is down, and idk when my mom is going to pay the bill. So ima just try and finish most of my drafts on google docs. And when I’m around internet I will post them! Reblogs and likes are always appreciated!! Also I think I’m going to change my theme every two/month AND my top follower at that time will be able to choose the theme!!

Or should I do a poll with 3 different themes and the one that wins will be the heme for that month, and the one that was close to winning will be my theme for the next month? U guys can pick between those two options!

Love you all

Dolling shining out 💗

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Hi!! Wondering if you can do when thanos is fucking shy reader and then reader starts crying during the FUCKING, after that make thanos cum on readers face and he just goes to his own bed like nothing happened BTW LOVE YOUR STORY'S + HCS!!🤗 *IM SORRY IF YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND KMS*

Crybaby

Thanos x reader [SMUT]

Masterlist

You stood in the noisy room, looking for team members. You were turned around talking to someone else trying to convince them to let you join but, they didn’t want you. Said you looked too weak and they didn’t know what game they were going to play.

“Hey, excuse me?” A voice came from behind you accompanied with a tap on your shoulder. You turned and saw a purple hair guy. “Join my team”, he said confidently. You were too shy to ask questions. Already having to step out of your comfort zone to talk to other people. You nodded,

“Yes.” He eyed you a cocky grin plastered on his face. You guys all sat together. You, Purple haired guy, a longer black haired guy, another quiet guy, and a girl with piercings. You stayed with the purple haired guy.

“So, shy one, what’s your name?” He turned to you, practically jumping around in his skin.

“Uhh, my name is (y/n)(l/n)” you say quietly, turning red from embarrassment for no reason.

“My name is Thanos, welcome to the Thanos world” he made a gesture. You gave a simple half smile and turned to watch as the games began.

“Guys, what are we each good at?” The girl spoke. “We have to plan.” She said with resolve.you sat quietly, hoping you’d just get put to do a game, and not have to speak, but all eyes settled on you,

“I was always really good at Gong-Gi” you voice quietly. They nodded with consideration, planning how the rest of the games would go.

Your teams turn was up. Long haired boy went first, Ddajki. Quit guy went second, flying stone. Your turn, you focused and went as fast as you could at Gong Gi, not messing up or missing a single beat; the purple haired guy shaking you with excitement. Pierced girl went next, spinning top, and finally, Thanos. Scoring a fantastic 5 in a row a Jequi.

You were uncuffed, and let back into the common room. Sitting with your new group as they spoke loudly. You sat farther away, leaning against the beds, watching other players filter in. They all went around saying their names. Min- Su, Nam Guy, Thanos, and Se Mi.

As the rest of the players came in, you were passed food. You sat back were you were too shy to even look at anyone.

Time skip:

You laid quietly in bed by Thanos. He unashamedly, pulled his cock out. Beginning to stroke himself. He noticed your eyes watching him.

“Psst, hey.” He whispered to you. You blushed a red shade of red, thankfully, not visible.

“H-h-hey” you whispered back.

“”Since you’re staring want to help?” He asked. You stayed silence, to afraid to say anything. You slowly nodded, he got up and walked to your bed. “Pull your pants down”

“O-o-okay” you obeyed, pulling your sweats down far enough so he could get inside of you. “O-oh god, that feels good.” You half moan. Your embarrassment at your compromised position racking your brain. Thanos thrusted inside of you. Pushing and pulling out quickly.

“Oh, you like this? Huh?” He teased. You nodded. “God, you should see yourself” you couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or complimenting you. Either way, it made him laugh. Your eyes prickling with tears, you couldn’t believe it. You were about to cry. No, scratch that, you were crying. Crying as you were getting dicked down by a guy you just men.

You moaned quietly as you cried, your sniffles reaching his ears through his low grunts.

“Are you crying?” He asked, seeing the shiny tears roll down your face. “Oh god, I’m going to cum, that’s making me cum” he pulls out quickly. Jerking himself off onto your face, his body convulsing slightly with each stroke as he did. “Ah, well thanks for letting me borrow you” he said, and retreated back to him bed. Almost as if he hadn’t just fucked you. You felt ashamed, determined to find a new team tomorrow as you cried yourself to sleep.

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[megumiluvv]

Pillow forts are difficult to build. Especially if you have a child “helping” you build them. Though it’s not Yuji’s fault that he’s no help, he just moves on too fast without letting the pillows balance.

“Yuji, how about you help me by giving me pillows instead of placing them? I think we’ll work much faster that way.” You try to give him a new task.

“Okay! I’ll be on pillow duty and you be on building duty!” The child replies with excitement.

You both work together and before you know it, Choso’s living room is a huge fort, topped off with Yuji’s Spider-Man blanket to cover the fort. You smile and mess up the boy’s hair.

“Not bad, huh?”

“It looks awesome!”

He smiles and crawls into the fort, lying down and looking around. You follow and lay beside him, allowing him to cuddle up to you. Your fingers card through his hair while he talks about how Megumi would love to do this with you and him next time.

“I wonder what Choso will say when he comes home. Do you think he’ll join us down here?” Yuji looks up at you.

“Hmm, maybe. It’s a nice nap spot, doncha think?”

“Yeah…” he trails off, as if the mere mention of napping made the boy sleepy.

You chuckle and hold him closer. “You can sleep if you want, Yu.”

“Mkay…”

He nuzzles into you and closes his eyes, falling asleep soon after. Yuji’s soft breathing becomes the only sound, aside from your own, and you also feel yourself becoming drowsy after a few silent minutes. Your eyes eventually droop shut and you’re asleep the same as Yuji.

Choso enters his apartment and instantly notices the pillow fort taking space in front of his couch. He smiles and sets his keys on the coat rack, shaking his coat off and hanging it beside the keys. The ravenette pokes his head into the fort and lets out an amused huff when he sees you and Yuji, cuddling and asleep.

Choso takes the opportunity to shower and change into something comfortable, taking his hair down from the buns he does. He walks into the kitchen, grabbing himself a small snack before joining you two in the fort. He crawls in, careful not to bump any pillows, and slowly cuddles up next to you.

You wake up with a jolt that surprisingly doesn’t wake Yuji. Your head turns and you smile when you see Choso behind you, his hands sliding around your waist. He pulls you and Yuji to his chest.

“I see you two had fun today.” He whispers softly in your ear.

You hum in agreement. “He had a wonderful idea.”

“I can tell.”

“How was work?”

“Not bad, same old story, different day. How was your day with Yuji?”

“We cleaned his room, went snack shopping, and then built this fort. I’ll have to remake his bed while he eats dinner, deconstruct this fort…”

“Mhm, I can cook while you do that, if you wanna wake Yuji.”

You give Choso a mischievous grin that tells him you have a “great idea” on how to wake Yuji. You bring your hands to Yuji’s tummy and quickly start tickling him, grinning when he wakes up and instantly gets thrown into a fit of giggles and kicking you away.

“Stop thattt!” He giggles.

“Whyyyyy…” you giggle as well. “I’m having funnnn!!”

“It tickles!”

“That’s the point!”

Choso chuckles at the two of you and crawls out of the fort, moving to the kitchen to start cooking dinner. You finally give Yuji reprieve from the tickling and carry him out of the fort, the pink-haired boy holding onto you like a baby koala. The two of you work together to return the pillows to the correct spots and remake Yuji’s bed. You three have dinner and Yuji gets tucked into bed after a movie, while you and Choso go to his room for the night. He could get used to days like this.

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