#not sure where it was it was a bedroom maybe his

[classyrbf]

classmate!gojo part 2!

classmate!gojo who has been losing his mind trying to figure out who his mystery girl is. He’d assume it’s someone he knows, someone he hangs around, maybe one of the well known girls in his class. But looking at them, he didn’t really get that vibe. Sure they’d flirt with him, always hang around him, and that would be way too obvious. Despite being a part time investigator along with being a college student, that hasn’t stopped gojo from chatting with you. Still, everyday, you and him are sending pictures and videos back and forth and texting.

gojo: just tell me who you are, baby, promise I won’t bite ;)

you: where’s the fun in that, hm?

you laugh at knowing he’s frustrated. You see it on his face everyday when he walks into class, looking at his phone constantly and his eyes scanning the room. He does it in the cafe area as well when hanging with his friend, looking to see if any girl might fit his description of you. But of course, he never looks your way, completely disregarding your existence until late in the night when you’re both horny for each other. You can’t help but send him a video of you fucking your self with your dildo, your phone set up perfectly where you can’t see your face, but can see everything else. And you fuck yourself until you squirt all over your bedroom floor, legs shaking as you imagine it’s his cock.

poor gojo is just losing his mind behind the screen, listening to your moans and watching you squirt over and over, but all he’s thinking about is your face. Doesn’t stop him from getting off though. Of course he’s jerking his cock. Roughly. All the frustration is really getting to him. “Fuck! You’re really fucking teasing me, baby. You know that?”

the cycle continues for several days, until one day he misses class. What’s the problem in that? It’s the fact he needed the notes from that lecture and of course his friends never write them down. So, who did the professor direct him to? You. He’s walking up to you so casually, a bored look on his face as you’re sitting in your seat, palms sweating and internally freaking out. “Don’t mean to bother you, but do you have the notes from the last lecture?” He sighs in annoyance, adjusting his backpack.

“Oh, um…yeah, let me just…” You reach down into your bag and doing so, gojo noticed the color of your nails, his brows furrowing. They looked familiar.

“Nice nails,” he said. You couldn’t be his mystery girl, could you? No, no it was just a coincidence. You’re just some quiet, shy, and nerdy girl who keeps to herself. No way you fit in the description.

You pause for a moment, handing him your notes. “Thanks,” you mutter, quickly standing from your seat.

“Wait, don’t you want these back?” He asked, curious as to why you were in such a rush.

“Keep em, I have a picture of them on my phone.” You grab your bag and hurriedly walk away from him, your heart pounding against your chest. Gojo watches as you disappear from the lecture hall, immediately pulling out his phone to pull up a saved picture of his mystery girl, endlessly scrolling through pictures and videos to find one with your hands.

He stops at a video of you groping your tits, eyes widening when he notices the same color nails and design. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No fucking way.” He shoves his phone in his pocket, quickly following after you, wherever you went. But he doesn’t know that you left home for the day, completely avoiding him.

You can’t believe you got so close to him today, so close you could smell his cologne and hear his voice in person. Just thinking about it had you so horny, so wet. And when he complimented your nails? It meant he was actually checking you out! His eyes were on you! “He talked to me!” You squealed, running to your room, locking your bedroom door and slipping your panties off from under your skirt. “He talked to me…he was looking at me…” You sink your fingers into your already soaked cunt, eyes fluttering shut as you move them faster, pressing against your g-spot.

Gojo stared at his phone, debating whether to text you. He needed to really see if you were his mystery girl. He needed to investigate a little more, meaning he needed to watch your every move before confronting you. “Can’t believe you really might be her,” he sighed, biting down on his bottom lip. “Those tits, that ass, that pussy, all belonging to a sweet little thing like you? Can’t be…” Gojo couldn’t help himself, palming his semi-hard cock through his jeans. “Shit, baby,” he moaned, undoing his jeans, pulling out his cock. His eyes shut, remembering the cute look on your face when he walked up to you, and he could smell your perfume too, and that voice…yeah, he could recognize that voice anywhere. You’re definitely her. “I hope you’re thinking about me too. Fuck that. I know you’re thinking about me,” he breathily chuckles, slowly fisting his cock to your pictures.

“You were so close to me today, mmmph—fuck!” You rub your clit in circles, watching a video of him jerking off his pretty cock. “Wish you would’ve bent me over and fucked me right there—ah!” You heavily pant, hips twitching. “I need more!” You reach over into your bedside drawer, pulling out your dildo. “Want your cock inside me, Toru,” you moan. “Please say you’re thinking about me too, please!”

You know he knows. He has to. Why else would he compliment your nails? And why hasn’t he texted you yet? You’ve scared him off. Of course he doesn’t want anything to do with you. But you’ll have your fun while it lasts.

I know I left it on a cliffhanger (I’m super evil 😈 )

[cherubkissesx]

tangled limbs

pairing: spencer reid x bau!female reader

summary: you and spencer are in a secret relationship but you’re sick so spencer immediately rushes to your place after work but he ends up falling asleep, but penelope and derek catch you two.

contents: fluff, sick reader!, talks of throwing up

you woke up that day feeling absolutely terrible but decided to go into work anyways, however just before you and the team were about to go on the jet aaron stopped you and told you to go home.

“what! why?” you said stunned but aaron just shot you a look as if to say “are you serious”. “you look very ill, and it doesn’t ease my nerves to know one of my team might throw up everywhere based on the way you cover your mouth every five seconds” aaron said pointedly.

“you make a very good point sir” you said giving up and walking to go pack up your stuff to leave. “where are you headed?” spencer said subtly putting his hand on your wrist.

“home i feel awful” you said as you yet again find your hand flying up to your mouth in a moment of panic thinking you might throw up but lower your hand when the nausea passed.

“in the politest way possible, you look god awful” spencer said in a soft tone. “gee, thanks” you laugh.

“i’ll see you later.” you said and when there was no one around he planted a kiss on your temple which made your pale complexion flush instantly.

—-

you got changed into your pjs immediately upon arriving home and flop into bed making sure you have a sick bucket at the side of your bed just incase.

practically as soon as your head hit the pillow you fell into a deep slumber. the coolness of your sheets hitting your flushed face felt nice and soothing.

some hours later you awoke startled as you felt someone gently shake you awake. “spence?” you managed to say once you peeled your eyes open. you looked around your room finding that your room was engulfed in darkness. wow how long had you slept?

you check your phone and see it was 11pm that same day, you had slept all day.

“what are you doing here?” you asked softly budging up and patting the now open spot for spencer to sit in.

“i was worried about you” spencer said engulfing you in a gentle hug. “it’s only a stomach bug and maybe a bit of a fever” you waved off.

“shhh let me worry” spencer said lying down and pulling you into his side. “you guys are back earlier than i thought” you said trying to make conversation. “the case was a bust, minimal evidence” spencer said sadly. “i’m thankful i didn’t miss out on much i already feel awful for not being there” you confessed.

“you never take a day off work not in all the years i’ve known you, plus you didn’t really take the day off you were sent home” spencer said reassuringly.

you smile up at him and snuggle into him even more as if no matter how close you were pressed into him it wasn’t enough. he diverts his soft doe like eyes down to yours and kisses you tenderly.

“my breath smells bad” you said giggling. “let me look after you” spencer smiles and runs his fingers through your hair which has your eyelids drooping.

—-

penelope and derek both take turns knocking on your apartment door but there was no answer. “we’ll just use her spare key!” penelope exclaims. “why would you know where she keeps her spare key?” derek asked in confusion. “doesn’t take a genius to figure it out” penelope said and retrieved your spare key from underneath your doormat.

“for an fbi agent that’s this smart she doesn’t think about her safety” derek laughed.

penelope and derek had brought you a care package although it was all penelope’s idea and derek just tagged along, it consisted of homemade soup, face masks, etc.

they made a beeline to your bedroom as it was the only door closed and you weren’t anywhere else. “y/n!” penelope said in a sing song voice.

“i—?” penelope said going to say something but stopped dead in her tracks and so did derek.

the scene they saw infront of them was you nestled in closely to spencer’s side, your head buried in the crook of his nick and his head resting on top of yours. he had a protective arm slung over your body while your hand was resting on his chest. and your legs where tangled together.

“did you know anything about this?” derek asked in surprise. “no! how could she not say anything” penelope whisper shouted.

“i think we should take a picture!” penelope announced excitedly and captured a photo of you two.

“they are never hearing the end of this.” derek chuckled.

[cummitted]

dilf!toji who just can’t resist his cute lil neighbor :(

two big, meaty hands grip your sides, blunt nails digging in hard enough to where you’re sure bruises are already forming and marring your soft skin. he slams you back onto all eight inches of his cock, and his pupils expand as your ass jiggles and you squeal, “toji!”

his name sounds so perfect on your glossy lips, like a damn hymn.

“this is what ya wanted, right?” toji doesn’t even bother with waiting for a response from you — he already knows the truth.

why else would you always tell him “good morning, mr. fushiguro!” with that bright, pretty smile and big, round eyes or offer to babysit megumi in those dangerous scraps of fabric you call shirts and skirts, matching lacy pink bra showing from your low-cut top and panties peeking out whenever you bend over to pick up a fallen pencil?

or, the boldest thing his pretty baby has done, fuck some loser so loud that toji could hear it through his bedroom wall? you wanted him to hear your moans, every cry — “mm, harder!” — and whine — “oh, fuck, right there!” —, every muttered praise that couldn’t have been for the peon you were with, but for him, for toji.

and toji hates to disappoint, especially someone as cute as you.

that’s precisely how you ended up where you are now, face down, ass up in his bed, drool dribbling from your open mouth and eyes nearly crossing as he splits you right on open with his monster cock.

your fingers desperately scrabble for purchase against his sheets, acrylic nails digging in as your hips uselessly try to squirm away.

you hadn’t expected your neighbor to be so cruel, either! he’d barely stretching you out before ramming that girthy length into you, leaving your poor hole fluttering and stinging in an attempt to adjust. not that it did much — he’s still much too big, his tip bullying your cervix with every thrust and making you feel impossibly full.

it’s soooo not fair, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. hell, you can barely think, much less speak.

even if you could, you wouldn’t tell him to. you’ve never felt this good while having sex in your life.

“ungh, mmngh, t-toji—”

a snap of his hips shuts you right up, and toji grins, that sexy scar in the corner of his mouth stretching with his lips. “yer gettin’ what you asked for, but now yer whinin’?” he tuts, and one hand abandons your hip to deliver a harsh smack to your ass. “greedy slut.”

and, no, he doesn’t miss the way you clench down.

“jus’ hold still and take this dick, yeah?”

as if you can do anything else.

each thrust is loud and sloppy and mean, your pussy crying out for more with every lewd squelch. it’s like he wants to plow you through the damn mattress, and god knows you’d let him.

you’d let him do anything.

which is why when he cums, you let him pump you full of his hot seed, every spurt making your overstimulated body convulse. toji doesn’t say anything, either, thinking you’re too out of it to question him.

y’know, megumi has been whining about not having anyone to play with. maybe he’ll get lucky and you’ll give his baby boy a precious little sister <3

[sleepygirltwink]

I still remember the time in 5th or 6th grade when the local playhouse was going to be coming to our school to read poems they selected from each grade of students in front of the whole school. It was this whole thing. My teacher made it mandatory and for a large grade, as did many others.

I was a noticeably neurodivergent but undiagnosed kid, one with that whole “excel academically then sit and read through the whole class” type as you had described. I was at a point where I obsessed over Ancient Greece. Like, read the Iliad and odyssey cover to cover, Aeneid was my favorite book ever, I reread Percy jackson (which was new-ish at the time!)constantly, etc. So, I decided to write my ode about Achilles. I poured my heart into writing this poem in honor of one of my favorite mythological characters. I don’t have the poem anymore, but I wrote about how he was a great warrior with a great love for Patroclus and how he would be undone by his rage etc etc, basically a breakdown, summary, and retelling of my understanding of the Iliad. Now I was 10, so like duh my understanding of the Iliad was definitely not complete and whatnot.

We read them for our class, and everyone else had written about something mundane that was important to them (their favorite shoes, their iPod, etc), then came me, the dweeby, quiet, nerdy, awkward kid coming up and reading aloud an attestation to one of the greatest warriors of myth, written in the style of epic poetry mixed with typical western ode. I was roasted hard, not just by my classmates, but the teacher. It wasn’t as bad, thankfully, as some of these stories, but it stuck with me a while, and people would make snide jokes about how I put so much effort into it and how bad it was. The teacher gave me a C- because it didn’t hit some arbitrary requirement she never told us.

A few weeks later, the playhouse came to our school, and they were reading the poems. They got to my grade, read off many of my classmates with little fanfare, then one stepped forward and said “and for our favorite one of this grade, one that was clearly written by someone with great passion and love for art, Ode to Achilles by (me).” Then he read it aloud, with the same verve and intonation I had in class. Everyone except for my class clapped for my poem, and I was invited up to get some little plaque that I still have and that has hung up in every bedroom I’ve ever had.

I was still picked on for it but it died down a lot after I’d gotten awarded. And that plaque means so much to me, to the extent that even my gruff man’s man father didn’t question when I made sure that we had it every single time we moved, and that I would proudly display it (at one point it even hung in our living room!) cause he knew how hurt I’d been over how the other kids had treated my poem.

As far as the “maybe he shouldn’t have been so weird” comments. A trans girl I went to school with was bullied for it and her obvious untreated neurodivergence relentlessly. Whenever she went to admin or most teachers they’d tell her the same. Don’t be so different.

every piece of ""autistic representation"" in hollywood sucks not just because of the infantalization and inspiration porn but because movie executives always fail to realize the real universal autistic experience: spending your childhood slowly and unfalteringly realizing all of your friends not so secretly hated and/or merely tolerated you at best and you've missed every social signal about it ever

[alchemistc]

He'd had a dream about this, once. Sweat still cooling, sheets tangled at his feet, a view of Eddie Diaz's bedroom ceiling.

Sue him - Tommy's not the first guy who ever had a raunchy dream about a straight friend. For a few weeks there, both Diaz and Evan Buckley had featured heavily in his rotation. And then Evan had tried to murder his best friend and Tommy had kissed him about it and now...

Tommy shifts his weight. Slides his hand across the sheets - Evan's sheets, still familiar even if the location has changed. Christ, why had Eddie never scraped the popcorn off his ceiling? It's an easy job, really, even if it is painfully boring and time consuming, he could -

The hand that curls around his neck, just under his jaw, is light, careful, still possibly covered in Tommy's cum.

"I missed you," Evan says, and Tommy feels the panic bubbling under his skin, a miasma of humming thrumming reminders that this had been a bad idea from the start. That "randomly" running into his ex three shots deep at the bar had been one of his shittier plans, fueled by his own tipsy jealousy at seeing Evan's drinking partner grinning at him for a good hour while Tommy got progressively worse at pool.

He opens his mouth to let Evan down. He can't do this There's no world where this changes anything. For Christ's sake, he'd only done it because the possessive monster inside of him had heard Evan introduce him to Ravi Panikkar as 'my... Tommy' and the rest of his brain had left the fucking building.

"Everything is so screwed, Tommy. Eddie, and Maddie, and - I just. I want to work on this. I want - I know I didn't say it right before, but everything went to shit that day and if we could just..."

He's always done this. Fucked Tommy to the brink of brainlessness and then proceeded to talk a mile a minute like the sex they'd had was inspirational and energizing. Tommy'd been endeared by it from the start. He still is.

He fucking hates that.

"I can - we can go slow. You set the pace, Tommy, I promise."

"Buck," he starts, and everything in Evan shuts down all at once.

He's done a poor job of keeping that line drawn in his own head - all these months later and he still thinks too much about him, still thinks of him as Evan, and it's a shitty thing to do when they're both fully aware that it's something of a treat for both of them - that name that's been mostly Tommy's since the day Buck found himself at the academy with three Evan's and grinned his way through a nicknaming process.

Evan's hand unfurls from its spot, fingers slipping from where they'd been working at his earlobe. He's gone from soft and pliant glued to Tommy's side, to stiff as he rolls away, sheets travelling with him, and Tommy doesn't fight it when they shift free of him, leaving him bare as the day he was born.

At least he's got his trusty fucking walls. Those at least will keep Evan from glancing up and seeing him break his own heart in two twice over.

Evan rolls to a sit, heaves his legs over the bed. In the soft light Tommy can map out the constellation of moles on his curved back as he drops his head into his hands.

The silence is deafening.

"I, uh ... I think you should go?"

Tommy's certain he doesn't mean for it to sound like a question. He's also certain Evan Buckley has never once in his life been anything but a novice at hiding emotion in his face, body language, voice.

He's pretty sure they could do this a hundred times and Evan might just let him.

Tommy doesn't speak as he gathers his clothes. Doesn't speak as he steals furtive glances around the hem of his T-shirt, doesn't speak as he realizes he didn't even make time for cleanup so he's definitely driving home with the evidence of this night still fucking on him.

Evan's still cradling his head in his hands when Tommy shoves his foot into a boot, not bothering with laces because maybe he'll just fucking trip on the curb and fall into oncoming traffic. It might be the better option.

"I'm -."

"Don't," Evan says, just loud enough for Tommy to know he's barking around a phlegmy throat. "This is worse, just so you know. It was already bad, Tommy..."

Tommy expects there to be more, but there isn't anything. Evan's shoulders heave, and Tommy grabs his keys and phone off the side table, and he blinks and he's somehow out the door, eyes stinging and blood rushing in his ears and he honestly shouldn't be driving but he's not gonna leave his fucking truck here.

He's not entirely sure how he makes it home. He comes back to himself with scalding hot water washing away the evidence of his fuck-up, throat sore and jaw tight and his phone blowing up on the bathroom countertop.

He shouldn't feel the vindication he does that at least this time he milked enough emotion out of Evan to make him send fourteen - his phone buzzes again - fifteen texts in a row.

He feels it anyway, and just to dig the knife deeper into his own chest he shuts his phone off for the night the moment he's towelled himself dry.

Tomorrow. He'll figure it out tomorrow.

He's been telling himself that for five months - a year - his whole fucking life. Maybe one day he'll be telling the truth.

[neontiger]

snowglobe

♡ MDNI 18+

♡ jason todd x fem!reader

♡ Bruce may not be able to get revenge for Jason's death, but he can pay for a weekend at a snowy mountain resort for the two of you. Hot tub and a special appearance by Mr. Todd's bag of goodies.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Cold air bites at your exposed cheeks. Bubbling heat engulfs the rest of your body, steam rising from the water's surface as you rest your head back on the pillowed edge of the hot tub. Below a village more deserving of a Christmas card sparkles in the setting sun, cupped in the embrace of snow-peaked mountains. There's not a thought, not a worry, running through your head as you soak in the water. If only this could be real life and not simply a weekend getaway.

None of the other cabins are visible from your perch in the mountains. All is quiet, the only sounds the bubbling of the hot tub and the occasional kiss of the wind. Even with the window to the cabin's master bedroom open, you can't hear Jason snoring - though you know for a fact he is, having passed out nearly as soon as you got here. But you can't really blame him. He needs the sleep.

Still, you'd like a little time with him. In your travel bag was an arsenal of lingerie and toys, and you'd be at least a little disappointed not breaking out some of them. Here, where the walls weren't paper thin and you could make some noise without the neighbors banging on your door. Where Jason couldn't disappear in the middle of the night.

Three whole days with him. You couldn't waste a breath.

New sounds enter your bubble: the creak of the bed, feet meeting the hardwood floor, as Jason finally seems to be stirring from his deserved nap. You keep your eyes closed but ears open as the sliding doors leading to the patio open.

His presence is felt, the weight of him thrusting in your gut before he even places his lips to your forehead. "How dare you start without me?"

You open one eye and squint at him. "You're the one who passed out. You're lucky I didn't leave you here entirely."

"Right. Sure." He's wearing too much, still in his jeans and a thick sweater, hair tousled from good sleep. All of it makes him look softer, more tender, than the man you know in Gotham. It's not a complaint, maybe. Only different.

You sit up enough to expose shoulders missing the telltale bikini straps, alerting him that you were at least topless. Jason's eyebrow cocks in a quick, blink and you'll miss it move, before he clears his throat and leans on the side of the hot tub. The foamy bubbles won't break to give him a peek at below.

"Are you coming in? It's really nice." You slip out of reach, turning to cross your arms on the edge of the tub. The village underneath appears to be falling into a quiet evening step, streetlamps clicking on as open signs are shuttered.

"Are you wearing anything?" Jason asks.

You give him a sideways glare. "Yes, Jason. I've got bottoms on."

"I didn't know. I thought people hung out naked in these things."

"That sounds gross."

He shrugs, gripping the hem of his sweater. It comes off over his head in one slick move. Your attention - half of it, anyway - returns to the village. It feels like a caricature, a fantasy place caught inside a snowglobe. Too perfect to be real.

Water splashes out of the tub as Jason steps in. The bubbles lick his waist as he moves to sit next to you, draping one arm over the edge to watch the scene below.

"What do you think it's like?" There's something unplaceable in his gaze as he drags it over the village. "Living here."

"Nothing like being on vacation here." You turn your head to look at him instead, resting your chin on your arm. His profile is sharp and soft, scarred and still smooth, gentle.

"It's not Gotham," he says.

You shake your head. In the movement, strands of hair wiggle themselves loose from the messy knot you piled them into. You sit up to fix it, dragging wet fingers through your damp hair.

Jason watches, quiet, at the simple way you fix your hair, the stretch of your arms. the concentration in your eyes. Mesmerized.

"It'd be nice, I think." You return to your spot, though a little closer to him now. "Boring."

"I could handle boring."

A tease sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back at the last second. "Me too," you say. "We could...be sheep farmers."

He snorts. "They do that here?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

A smile spreads across his face, eyes crinkling under the pressure of it. He reaches his hand to your waist under water to tug you closer. "Sit in my lap. I want to hold you."

"Hold me, or fuck me?"

"One first. Then the other."

Soft and pliant in his arms, you float to his lap and nuzzle his neck, cheek finding home on his shoulder. Another new sound, the distant beat of his heart. Steady pump of blood. Alive, in the now, and safe.

A knot forms in your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut and swallow it down. You're not going to think about those things right now, not here, not in this place or moment. Instead you concentrate on the hum of the hot tub's jets, the firmness of his shoulder under your cheek, the circle of his fingertips on your hip bone.

His other hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip. "Don't fall asleep."

You pick your head up. "You get to sleep, but I don't?"

"You had your chance." Jason moves his hand to cup the back of your head. Pupils blown out with want meet yours, the silent question trapped in them to obvious to ignore.

There's no option but to give in. He's impossible to say no to, not when those blue-green eyes are so brazen in their display of need. Lips meet in a soft kiss, part for tongues. Hands brush and slip, tangle and grip, hair, flesh, scars. The water temperature rises another twenty degrees, searing sensitive skin pink. You find your lips drawn to the curve of his neck and wrap them over a patch of skin near a scar faded white.

Red petal-shaped marks bloom everywhere you plant your lips to his skin. His hands grip your waist, pull you closer until you're flush against him. Cup your breasts, tease your nipples under the water with gentle circles and pinches. You let him, lean for him to repay the favors you've painted across his neck and collarbone.

Jason is rougher, always has been, teeth scraping the skin on your throat with the intention of leaving his mark. One hand at your back keeps you from floating away as you arch into his kiss. Thumb and forefinger work your nipple until firm, but it feeds a desperation in you. Need his mouth lower.

You shift higher onto your knees and lift out of the water, only enough to expose your breasts to the cold. Jason is quick to remedy the shiver that runs through your body, making a quick path down to a breast, closing his mouth around a nipple. He's more careful as he sucks, less teeth, but hard enough to twist your core. Your cunt clenches around nothing when he pulls off, a thread of spit connecting his lips to the bud. It breaks as he moves to your other breast to slather it in the same attention.

You cup the back of his head, wet fingers tangled in the dark strands, thigh muscles tensing with want to sink back down and impale yourself on him. But the ask remains caught in your throat, kept in place by his hands and his mouth, busy on your body and too good to quiet with your words.

He hums around your breast trapped in his mouth. The vibrations explode down your arms and back in the form of goosebumps. You tug his hair, not purposefully, but because control is slipping and you're searching for anything on which to ground yourself.

Jason pops free of your nipple and smiles up at you, already looking drunk. His hand disappears under the water and toys with the string of your bikini where it sits on your hip. "Regretting this now, huh?"

You forego an answer in place of kissing him again. His hand brushes up your thigh and under the fabric of your bikini to cup your ass. Possessive, how tight he squeezes. You return the favor with another tug of his hair, this time meaning it when his lips are wrenched from yours.

"Let's take this inside," you whisper.

Jason frowns. "I can't make it that far."

But he lets go when you lift off his lap, watching the jiggle of your ass as you climb out of the hot tub. The chill grabs you first, scrapes nails over now exposed skin. You grab a cold towel from the chair near the tub and rush to dry off as you hurry inside.

Jason is on your heels, as expected, grabbing you by the arm as soon as he's inside and pulling your body to his. Lips crash, teeth clatter, from the cold and the mess of the kiss, uncoordinated and raw as his moves are. Your breath shivers off your tongue, and he takes you into his lungs without pause. The walk to the master bedroom is a stumbled blur, but when you open your eyes you're in his arms above the bed.

You take his bottom lip between your teeth, let it snap back. "You made it. I believed in you, you know?"

He drops you unceremoniously onto the mattress. You don't bother crawling to the pillows before throwing off your bikini bottoms, but he walks away to the armchair under the window where your shared luggage still sits.

"What are you looking for?" You sit up on your elbows and watch him root through his bag. "Can you close the window?"

Jason pushes shut the glass and locks it. Funny, you think, considering you keep yours unlocked just for him. "I brought a couple things," he says, glancing over his shoulder.

It's not really surprising. Maybe you share a brain cell, or at least your vibes run on the same wavelength. You lie back, feet fluttering in the air with excitement as he approaches with a silky black bag in one hand, the other fidgeting with the waistband of his damp boxer briefs, tight enough to expose the entire shape of his cock. It's mouth-watering, literally, but you're quick to wipe away the drool from the corner of your lips before he notices.

The briefs are lost to the floor, and you don't feel an ounce of shame letting your gaze drop immediately to his cock, swollen and flushed with arousal. His hands are busy, but doing what you could care less. You sit up and wrap a hand around him, using your thumb to smear the pre-cum that beads at the tip. He makes a strangled noise and grabs your wrist.

"Calm down." He presses his lips to your ear. "I'll give you what you want, babe, but we're doing it my way."

So much arousal floods your body at the words - at the way they drip with lust like honey, the way they wrap your ear and brush your skin - you're surprised you haven't soaked through the bed. Slowly you release his cock, doe-eyed as you look up at him.

He holds up a vibrator, C-shaped, dual stimulation. Clicks the silicone ends together and smiles. "I want to hear you scream," he says. "Are you going to scream for me? Say yes."

You nod. What are words, anyway? You've forgotten.

"Babe, I said say yes. In fact - yes, sir."

You wet your lips. "Yes, sir. I'll scream all you want, Jay."

That wide grin cracks across his face, betraying the persona he's trying to play off. He clears his throat and reaches into the bag again, this pulling out strips of black satin. "Can I tie you up?" He asks.

You nod. God, your pussy would nod if it could, swollen as it is with fucking need. "Yes, sir."

His chest heaves with deep breaths. "Give me...a safe word. Pick something easy."

Your only thoughts at the moment are: Jason, cock, fuck. But those won't work, keen as you are to scream them out loud the moment he gets his hands on you, and so you scan the room for something, anything. There's a painting on the wall of a goat on a mountainside.

"Goat," you say.

Jason snorts. "No. Really? Okay."

You're not going to use it anyway, you figure. Jason, as tough as he is out on the streets, as dirty as his hands are from the things he's done, is unbelievably soft. Tender. You've known it forever, in the ways he shows his love because he doesn't know how to say it out loud - the way he remembers that you prefer the soft brownies in the center of the pan, or by putting on detective shows before he leaves at night because he knows they help you sleep, or by reading the books he sees on your shelf so he can ask you about them, talk with you about things you like. The love letters you find on your pillow.

When that satin wraps around your wrists, held at your back, it's loose. "Pull on this one," Jason whispers in your ear, brushing fabric in your right hand. "That'll get you out fast."

You purse your lips. He gives you a short kiss before knocking you back over gently.

"Let me see how wet you are." Jason slides a hand over your thigh, urging you to spread them for him. His cock twitches at the sight as you do, pussy glistening with want, his question easily answered with just a look. You jolt when his finger brushes over your clit before sinking into your heat.

He sighs. "Shit. Is this all for me, babe? You need me this bad?"

"Yes, sir." Your hips squirm on their own, trying to take his finger deeper. He pulls free and leaves you achingly empty, though it's not for long, as he presses the thick end of the vibrator against your pussy.

A concentrated look takes over his face as he fits the vibrator's suction end over your clit. "I control it," he says. His eyes flash up to meet yours, to read if there's hesitation in them.

You nod understanding.

He tugs you to the edge of the bed and helps you sit before retrieving the vibrator's remote from the bag. His fingers card through your hair and make to pull out your hair tie - the movement doesn't prove fluid, and he pauses to tug it out gently and fix your hair before pulling your head back. You can't bite back your smile.

"Open your mouth," he orders.

Lips part wide for him. He presses two fingers onto your tongue and pushes them into your mouth. Instinct - or the game - has you closing your lips around them and sucking, almost gagging as he thrusts to your throat.

A jolt slams through your body. You yelp around his fingers - it's not cute, not pretty, but a weird, little dog type yelp. There's no time to contemplate it as the vibrations pick up inside your cunt, right up against that rough patch of pleasure, and the suction on your clit increases.

Jason pulls his fingers from your mouth to hook a thumb at the corner. "I want to cum in your throat," he says through gritted teeth, almost a growl. "You're going to be a good girl, right, babe? Gonna let me cum in your throat?"

You nod, already messy, his thumb keeping you from moving your mouth for a proper yes, sir. It doesn't matter this time; the physical agreement is enough for him. He guides you off the bed and to your knees on the floor, then pauses.

Frowns. Walks around the bed and grabs a pillow for under your knees. "Comfy?"

Your cunt clenches around the vibrator. You're close, the suction infuriating on your clit, rhythmic and pulsing and sucking and fuckfuckfuck. "Yeah," you squeak. "Jay...gonna cum."

"Already? We just started." His fingers scrape through your hair to wrap it around his fist as he smears the head of his cock on your lips. You open for him, take the tip of his length into your mouth. Pre-cum coats your tongue but doesn't help as you struggle to take him deeper. The vibrations inside your cunt echo through your body and make it nearly impossible to concentrate on the task at hand.

You whine, the sound coming out gargled as Jason hooks his thumb into the corner of your mouth again. Spit drips down your chin as he thrusts into your mouth, each one deeper than the last, until you're where he wants you - gagging around him, throat tightening on his cock. A mess, tears already bubbling in the corners of your eyes, thighs clenching together to fight against the inevitable.

Your peak is felt shortly before it bursts, a bubble swelling in your core that explodes through your body in pulsing waves. Jason feels it in the way every muscle in you tenses, including your throat, clamping down on him with another muffled whine. His hand at the back of your head keeps you in place, keeps his cock buried in you, as you ride the pleasure.

Then all at once that pleasure is gone, replaced with the burn of overstimulation. The remote is pressed against your cheek in the hand that remains hooked in your mouth, but he makes no movement to lower the pressure. You lift on your knees, wiggle your hips, like you can run away from it, can stop the burning.

"One more," Jason grunts through gritted teeth. "Give me another, babe, come on."

It's hot, boiling, a painful knot in your core as you're dragged back up to your peak. You try to focus on his cock, tightening the suction around his thick length as he fucks into your mouth, fighting against the gag as he buries inside you. Hairs tickle your nose as he bottoms out and holds you down. You look up at him, tears streaking your cheeks, spit and precum coating your chin. You're on the verge of screaming, another orgasm reaching point, and by the look in his eyes - the haze, the blowout - he's close.

It racks through your body, the release, shudders and burns through every fiber. You choke on his cock and that's all it takes to bring him to a crashing end. His hips give weak, trembling thrusts, an instinctual attempt to be deeper in you as he pulses down your throat. Between the jolt of your own hips and him, it's too much to handle, and you gag on his cock, cum trickling from your lips down your chin, landing on your breasts.

The vibrations finally cease, and Jason pulls free of your mouth. Your chest heaves as you finally manage to catch your breath as he brushes your hair with his fingers.

"Fuck." Jason leans to kiss your forehead, cupping your tear-stained cheeks. "So good, babe. You okay?"

You nod weakly. He doesn't stop kissing you, showering you in them, forehead to cheek to ear.

"I'll get a towel. Ready to stand?" He holds your waist, steadying your balance as you lift back to your feet, and guides you to collapse back on the bed.

"Untie me?" You wiggle your shoulders.

Jason shakes his head. "Not yet."

You turn your head to watch him disappear into the bathroom, leaving you with your arms twisted behind your back and legs hanging off the bed, release dripping down the insides of your thighs. You could pull the knot free, sit up and end this, but there's a new swell in your gut that doesn't want to. He's back a moment later, hotel towel in hand.

"You're not done?" You ask, as he wipes your mouth and chin clean.

"Are you?" He sets the towel aside and leans over you. Two fingers slip into your swollen cunt, and you gasp, their intrusion jostling the vibrator inside. His nose scrunches in concentration as he scissors his fingers apart. "No," he says. "Not until you cum on my cock."

Eagerly, you nod. "Yes, sir."

Jason cups one of your breasts and squeezes roughly before capturing your nipple in his mouth. The blood's already begun rushing to his cock again, stiff as he grinds against your inner thigh while his fingers work to prepare you. Every thrust has the vibrator brushing your clit, but it's not enough to peak again, only to tease.

With a wet squelch, he pulls his fingers free and brings them your mouth. You already know what he wants. Your lips wrap them without hesitation, tasting the sweetness of your release as he watches. Mesmerized. How easy it is to get you to obey.

Jason straightens up, fingers leaving your mouth and breast to grip your hips possessively. His lips part and hang open for a moment, then close again without a word. You squirm lower and nudge him closer with a knock of your heel to his butt.

"Are you gonna fuck me, Mr. Todd?" You blink at him with those big eyes, pupils blown up with lust. "Gonna fuck me with that big cock?"

He grins. "I know what you want, babe. You've got no patience." He leans over you again, one fist holding him up, the other hand reaching for the vibrator remote. You tense at the sight of it.

The spread burns, only a little, as he notches the head of his cock against your entrance. You're wet enough, ready enough, to take him, but with the addition of the vibrator still nestled inside it's a tighter fit than you're used to. You choke on a moan as he bottoms out, his own face screwed up in concentrated pleasure.

Then that jolt, again. That fresh, hot, burning, sucking pressure on your clit, the vibrations against your core, his cock stuffing you full and slamming into your cervix with each long, desperate thrust. He grabs your hips to keep you still as he fucks into you without control; the vibrations are too much for him to handle, and he's not going to last as long as he wanted.

It's too much. Your release swells and pops, ricochets through your body and comes out in the shape of a scream - loud, raw, something that sounds a little like his name, or at least that's what he imagines - and then it burns.

Your legs shake uncontrollably. Jason's arms give out, can't hold him up, and his lips crash on yours in a fiery kiss that you can't reciprocate, too distracted at the burn of being overstimulated, nearly missing the throb of his cock inside you as he cums - you feel that at the very last second, when he slams into you, unable to move as the orgasm rocks his body.

He's quicker this time to shut the vibrator off, before losing all strength and collapsing atop you. Every breath from your lungs trembles, little shocks of pleasure still caught in your nerves. A tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

"I got you." Jason whispers. He kisses your cheek. "I got you, babe. You did so good. I love you."

Your tongue is gone, replaced with a stretched-out cotton ball. You can only blink and stare at him. Nothing you're thinking comes out: Now? Here? Like this? This moment, when you're a fucked-out mess, is the one he picks to finally say it out loud.

You stare at him - though he avoids meeting said stare - as he straightens up and pulls himself free of your heat. He swallows, still doesn't look up, attention on the the vibrator as he tugs it free. You wince at the sensation, pussy sore from all the abuse.

"Jason," you say. He helps you sit, unties the satin from your wrists, but still refuses eye contact.

He kisses your cheek again instead, rests his forehead against your temple when he asks, "Do you want me to help you in the shower?"

Your shoulders are sore, thighs aching and loose like jelly. Standing sounds like a foreign concept. "Yeah," you say. "Can we talk first?"

He sighs. "I didn't mean it. I mean, I didn't mean to say it right now. I mean it, I just -"

"Kind of a weird time." You lean back on your palms. Your shoulders give a whine of pain, and you quickly readjust by sitting up. He rests his head on your shoulder, clearly still hiding.

"Pretend I didn't say it," he whispers. "And I promise I'll pick a better time."

"Hmm." You wrap your arms around him, prompting him to do the same, nuzzling against your neck. "Nope. You got to own it now, Jay. You really love me, or are you just drunk off me?"

Jason picks up his head. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, heart racing, limbs numb. Hair tangled. Marks he's left cover your neck, shoulders, breasts. He's not in a much better state, neck equally reddened from your lips, sweat beaded on his forehead.

"I love you," he says. "And I mean it. I'm sorry I couldn't say it before when I first felt it, but I promise from now on I'll say it more often."

A wall has crumbled, given you access to him, even though the timing is a little off. You're not sure how to respond. "I love you too," you say, because that at least means something.

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he looks down at your legs before you can really catch the smile. "Can you walk? I can carry you."

As if you could refuse that offer. You lift your arms into the air. "Carry me, Mr. Todd."

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤All the places that Matt Murdock loves to fuck you-

A/n: Matt is such a cutie

Matt Murdock isn’t a man who allows himself many indulgences. His life is filled with shadows, sacrifice, and the weight of the city pressing down on him. But when it comes to you—the quiet, kind-hearted nurse who’s softer than anyone in his world should be—he finds himself craving every part of you.

And while you turn warm so easily,squeaking under his touch, Matt learns quickly that once he gets you alone, there’s a fire beneath that shyness.

A fire only he gets to stoke.

1. His Apartment – Against the Bookshelf

✨:

It started innocently enough.

You had come over to check on his injuries—again. Despite knowing he heals fast, you had been adamant about making sure he wasn’t reckless.

Matt had been sitting on the edge of his couch, listening to your heartbeat flutter as you pressed gentle fingers to his ribs.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up and let me do this, Murdock,” you had mumbled, heart rate spiking

He smirked.

And then, something shifted.

Maybe it was the way your fingers lingered too long against his skin.

Maybe it was the way his own hands itched to touch you, to map out every inch of the woman who had become his quiet salvation.

Either way, the next thing you knew—Matt had pinned you against the bookshelf, lips devouring yours.

You had gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, and the sound had destroyed him.

He had lifted you easily—one hand beneath your thigh, the other bracing against the shelf behind you. The books dug into your back, but you didn’t care. Not when Matt was kissing you like that.

Desperate. Rough.

Like he had been starving for you.

And by the time you were both done, you were breathless, shaken, and laughing softly when he finally let you back down on shaky legs.

You two didn’t even bother fixing the books that had fallen to the floor.

2. Your Bedroom – With the Windows Open

✨:

Your apartment was small but warm—much like you.

And Matt had fallen in love with it.

Not just because it smelled like vanilla and the faintest hint of antiseptic, or because you had soft blankets everywhere (which he would never admit he loved).

No.

He loved it because it was yours.

And when he was in your bed, tangled in sheets that smelled like you, listening to you whisper his name, he felt like he could breathe.

One night, with the windows cracked open, letting the cool night air in, he had taken his time with you.

Letting his hands trace every inch of you soft, warm skin.Letting his mouth memorize every spot that made you whimper.

Letting you fall apart beneath him, whispering his name like a prayer.

And when you came apart on his fingers, your voice barely above a breath—the city outside had disappeared.

Because in that moment, it was just you and him.

3. His Office – On His Desk

✨:

It was a mistake.

You both knew it the second you walked in, wearing that damn dress.

Foggy had already gone home for the night. Karen had left too. It was just you both—you had stopped by to drop off something he had forgotten at your place.

But the second he heard your heartbeat spike—the second he smelled the faint scent of your shampoo, your perfume, the lingering traces of something sweet on your lips and the rustle of the fabric of your dress.

He had lost all control.

You had barely set down the folder before Matt had you pressed against his desk, your hands gripping his tie as you gasped into his mouth.

“Matt—”

“Tell me to stop,” he had murmured against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, listening to the way your pulse fluttered.

You hadn’t.

Not when he had lifted you onto the desk, pushing papers aside.

Not when he had slid his hands beneath your dress, pulling a moan from your lips as his fingers brushed your core through your panties.

Not when he had taken you apart right there, in the very office where he fought so hard to be the “good man.”

Because around you—he didn’t always want to be good.

He just wanted you

4. The Rooftop – Under the Stars

✨:

You had never been a fan of rooftops.

They made you nervous, made you feel like one wrong step would send you plummeting.

But when Matt had pulled you up there one night, promising he wouldn’t let you fall, you had followed.

And somehow, sitting there with him, the city below wasn’t so scary.

You had leaned into his side, warm beneath his touch, whispering about your day, his scars, the things you two never told anyone else.

And maybe it was the intimacy of the moment.

Or maybe it was just Matt Murdock, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world worth touching.

Because suddenly—his lips were on yours.

Slow. Gentle.

Not like before—not rough, not desperate.

But like a man who had finally come home.

And there, under the stars, with nothing but the wind against both of your skin and the city buzzing beneath you both, Matt made love to you like you were something sacred.

And for once, you believed him.

5. The Church – When it Shouldn’t Have happened

✨:

It had been wrong.

So very, very wrong.

Matt had been struggling—torn between his faith, his demons, his feelings for you.

And you had just wanted to comfort him.

But when he had pulled you into the dimly lit confessional, hands gripping your waist, breath hot against your ear, you had known that you both weren’t going to stop.

And you hadn’t.

He had touched you like he was searching for salvation.

Matt Murdock is not an easy man to love.

But you love him anyways. You love his scars, his sins, the way he worships you when no one is watching.

And no matter where you two are—

His apartment.

Your bed.

His office.

A rooftop.

Even a place that was meant for prayers, not sins.

You will always comes back to him.

And Matt?

Matt always lets you.

Because he loves you, more than life it's self.

[amourtoken]

Luke has always given cuck vibes lol not until he proves that he isnt 😏

listen I ADORE Lukey he's my baby I need him BAD but sometimes I cannot help but think abt how his brothers for sure could not keep their fuckin hands off his gf.

Maybe they're right. He doesn't have much experience, he could use some pointers on how to treat you better in the bedroom. He's not bad by any means, but he would've never thought up half of what Quinn and Jack could come up with putting you through.

Having Luke sat across the room where he's forced to keep his hands to himself while they take their time melding you into the perfect little fuck toy for them while your boyfriend watches. Quinn making a point to keep you facing Luke while he has you in his lap, your legs spread over his so he's got the perfect view of how his brothers fingers fill you up just right. Jack dragging you back into bed after Quinn makes you cum a few times just to grind his cock against your slick cunt until your legs shake and you beg him to give you even just the tip and stop teasing.

Luke would be so hard he'd be dizzy, constantly adjusting the position he was sitting in to do anything to ease the throbbing ache between his legs but nothing helps. It only gets worse as the scene continues, he has to fight back whines watching his brothers use you like they were. He'd love to copy their actions and fully intends to, he needs to see you this fucked out for him. Luke's cock twitches against his thigh watching the way your head tips back just a little extra against the mattress to take Quinn into your mouth while Jack's still settled between your legs. You look so pretty all flushed and pliable like this, god he would do anything to get his hands on you right now but he's supposed to be taking notes isn't he?

He would've never thought this up on his own. Quinn leans forward just enough to settle his hand on your throat, squeezing as he rocks his hips against your face to almost fuck his fist through you like you're nothing more than a fleshlight. When Jack finally makes you cum just from the feel of his tip brushing your clit, he'd finally give in and fill you up entirely in a single thrust. His hands would slide up your torso to knead at your tits and tease your nipples until you were whining like a puppy around Quinn's length.

"Doing so good for us, baby. Feels good, huh? Oh honey I know- fuck- i know"

"Should say thank you to Lukey for letting us fuck you right, sweetheart. I know you needed this, didn't you?"

[sunnie-angel]

Um hello?????? This was so good and there’s going to be more at some point? July is an amazing messenger for this story and I’m so here for it. The yearning is so real.

He kissed her a little, tried to do what he was supposed to; put his hands on her waist, maintaining a respectable distance from too high or too low. But it felt…off, somehow.

I’m so emotional over this. He’s doing what he’s supposed to even though it doesn’t feel right and it makes him think that he can never have this now.

working himself to the bone as the Red Hood so he wouldn’t have time to reflect on who he was as Jason.

Insane over this part!!!! There’s a separation between the mask and the man and he’s leaning on the mask because he finds the man wanting.

He needs time to think. To lie down in his old bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about if he’ll ever see you again.

Yearner Jason Todd confirmed.

“That’s…uh…” Dick clears his throat again. Then again. “That’s great, Jason,” he says, at last regaining his composure.

Dick is the unexpected VIP of this fic, I love how you write him here

Dick has to quiet the extremely loud sirens going off in his head when he (albeit incorrectly) has the realization that his baby brother, the one he still sees as four feet tall, swinging his little legs off the kitchen island and covered in cookie crumbs is, in fact, having sex. 

Cackling at Dick losing his mind and simultaneously trying to keep it together. Yes his little brother is all grown up! But also it’s not at all what he thinks it is.

Jason can’t imagine you’d be welcoming, either, after the way he left two nights ago. He watched you splash your face with cool water, leaving him with a shaky, watery smile, then listened to you putter around the kitchen with the promise of tea for the both of you.

The little details make this so heartbreaking.

He climbed out of your bedroom window, like a coward. In his haste, he left those bloodstains he promised he would clean.

!!!!!!! Jason I’m pretty sure she cared way more about you yeeting yourself out of the window while injured and ghosting her than the stained sheets.

“You’re, uh…using protection, right?”

Dick is trying so hard to be a good big brother but also I am dying from the awkwardness. So is Jason.

You’re mad at yourself for being so stupid as to break down in front of him. It’s no fucking wonder he ran out the first chance he got.

Nooooo!!!!! I knew that bit of vulnerability was gonna come back to bite the both of them.

In the days following, the book sat there, practically taunting you until you turned it face-down so the sight of the star-constellated cover would stop making your stomach twist over in nausea. Nausea at the memory of how eager you were to pick it up at the library mere days after he had mentioned it, how you buzzed with excitement, and maybe something deeper, when you came home at night ready to snuggle into the couch with a blanket and your favorite mug to read the next chapter.

1) is this based on a real book? 2) Love the zoom in on the little details in the face of everything else. Reader’s brain/emotions can’t deal with the enormity of everything so it focuses on the little parts it can handle.

That their love was doomed from the start because, inevitably, he will have to leave her, and he has known the entire time that he would have to leave. That he loved her with one foot out the door.

Ohhhhhhh I love the parallel to Reader/Jason and the book couple. Now I really am wondering if this was based on a real book.

You hoped not; no one else needed to know him the way you did.

Let’s go possessive reader!!!!!!!

Ten days after that night, that book is one week past its due date when you muster up the will to take it back to the Gotham Public Library.

This is such a creative idea to get them back together but it also is so heartbreaking.

It would be another two months before you saw him again.

TWO MONTHS?????? Oh the angst is going to be off the wall. I can’t wait to see where you go with this!

love in withdrawal

true that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, that the sound of the saw must be known by the tree.

or; in the aftermath of that night, you're both wracked with regret, wishing it went differently. [3.3k]

jason todd x fem!reader; warnings from pt1 also apply; typical jason-angst (so ptsd, self-image/hatred, family issues, etc) + virgin!jason YOU ALR KNOW THE VIBESSSS😝😝😝👹👹 previous: you're good to me, baby

Jason Todd has tried very hard to be normal. At least, as normal as he can get. After returning to his home city and settling into his role as the Red Hood, crime lord and resident anti-hero of Gotham, he really did try. He went out with his 'coworkers' to have a good time. He spoke to his neighbors, hoping some friendship would stick. He went to a seedy bar with Roy and stuttered through some flirting with the girl who eye-fucked him from across the bar for fifteen minutes. With Roy’s encouragement (read: peer pressure), he followed her out to the alley behind the bar. He kissed her a little, tried to do what he was supposed to; put his hands on her waist, maintaining a respectable distance from too high or too low. But it felt…off, somehow. His heightened senses made the way she trailed one finger up and down the muscles of his arm feel prickly, the scars under his sleeve sensitive and itching at her touch. Her lips were too sticky with gloss, and its saccharine watermelon flavor lingered on his teeth for days. No matter how hard he scrubbed at them.

Roy hadn’t let him live that down for months. His recounting of Jason leaving her in the bar when she invited him home, looking ‘scared shitless and fumbling hard’ was an exaggeration, but maybe not that far off. Looking back, he wasn’t sure what he expected; he could barely look his own family in the eye. How did he think he’d be able to keep it together around a pretty girl? He was quick to give up any hopes of being ‘normal’ after that.

He lived like that for a while; putting all his energy into keeping the city safe, working himself to the bone as the Red Hood so he wouldn’t have time to reflect on who he was as Jason. He fixed things with his family just enough to have a place to go every other weekend to “upgrade his gear.” When he stuck around long enough that it was ‘only convenient’ to stay for dinner, no one commented on it. He’d accepted that this was his life now.

He never meant for things to go this far with you. Honestly. He was just doing his job when he gave you a ride home after you sprained your ankle trying to fight off that mugger. When he had to hold your weight so you could walk up the stairs to your apartment, he was still just doing his job. And when you, still in shock and heart pumping with adrenaline, put your frantic energy into nervous ramblings and fretting over his bruises— making sure you were okay before he left was part of his job. But one visit to your apartment turned into two, and two turned into three, each under the guise of ‘checking on your ankle’ or ‘being on his route’. Somewhere along the line your arrangement came to be: he stopped by with wounds needing to be treated, you treated them, and then he’d leave. And if you wanted to make some small conversation, getting to know each other a little more with every visit, that was harmless. Seeking you out for the smallest injuries that he was fully capable of dealing with himself was harmless. Holding you in his arms while you clutched onto him for dear life and sobbed into his shirt, neglecting his knife wound for far too long in favor of wiping away your tears—

He never meant for things to go this far.

Two days after that night, Jason is still reeling. In hindsight, letting the slice on his arm sit in the open, stale air for as long as it did was not the best idea. Sewing it closed one-handed so as to relieve the burden from your shoulders, taking no care to sterilize the instruments that fell to the floor in his hurry to follow the alarm bells in his head that screamed go! Get out and go! was a horrible idea. Sure, having you kneeled in his lap, pressed against him for the better part of the thirty minutes he spent at your place wasn’t exactly a regret. But was it worth the round of antibiotics and week-long benching ordered by Bruce after he stumbled into the Batcave an hour ago, hastily stitched up by his own hand and running a fever? He can’t decide. Was it worth the consequence of his siblings taking turns covering the patrol route of his city sector during his absence? Definitely not.

Was it worth the sight of you looking up at him, watery-eyed with flushed cheeks and fluttering eyelashes accentuated by the shine of your tears? The feeling of your hand sliding over his chest?

Maybe.

Maybe he could use the time off, as pointed out by a sneering Timothy, considering he was so stupid as to let his wound fester to the point of infection. He’d be too distracted to give the city his full attention, anyway. He needs time to think. To lie down in his old bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about if he’ll ever see you again.

Tim’s comment earns him a smack to the back of the head from Dick, who promptly kicks Tim out of the room.

“How are you feeling?” Dick stands at Jason’s bedside, arms crossed in concern.

“Same as when you asked me five minutes ago.” Jason wheezes. His pit-enhanced immunity makes the infection symptoms much easier than they could have been, but Bruce still insisted on him staying the whole week for observation. With how much he’s grown since he last used it, his childhood room feels much smaller than he remembers.

“Yeah, but…” Dick narrows his eyes at Jason. His gaze flits to his arm, wrapped in fresh bandages with an ice pack pressed over the stitches. “How…are you?”

“The same as…before,” Jason says, mimicking his brother’s cadence.

Dick sighs, thinking over his next move. He walks to the door, closes it, and pulls Jason’s desk chair to the bedside and sits down.

Jason groans. “Do you really have to—”

“Just humor me,” Dick interrupts. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He takes Jason’s silence as resignation. “Did something happen?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “I got stabbed, Dick.”

“Is that all?” There’s a lilt in Dick’s voice.

“What are you implying?” Jason shoots back, though his hoarse throat negates his attempt to sound intimidating.

“Nothing! I’m not implying anything!” Dick leans back in his chair, holding his palms up in surrender. “I’m just saying. You seem…bothered. By something.”

“Yeah, the stab wound.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Dick clears his throat. “If there’s nothing.” He stands, returning the chair to its place. As he’s leaving, though, his hand settled on the doorknob, he hears a rustle of fabric and turns back to Jason. He’s shifting around in his old bed, awkwardly pulling at the comforter and he moves to sit on the edge, staring hard at the red pattern of the blanket while opening and closing his mouth, battling with himself on whether or not he should speak. Dick waits, giving him the time to work it out.

“I think I…” Jason says finally, not looking up from his lap. “I messed up.” He looks very uncomfortable. If opening up wasn’t such a rare occurrence for him, Dick might have found humor in his brother’s embarrassment.

Dick lets go of the doorknob, but doesn’t dare move closer. He knows that Jason’s fight or flight instincts will take hold the second he feels too caged in. “Messed up how?” He asks, keeping his tone even and unemotional.

“With…someone.” Jason forces out the words, cheeks burning as bright as his bedspread. He still refuses to look at Dick, but at the surprised, choked-back sound he makes at the admission, Jason’s face snaps up to his. Dick is disguising his shock as a cough into his fist, but his wide eyes are unmistakable, even behind the curtain of thick hair falling over his eyes.

“That’s…uh…” Dick clears his throat again. Then again. “That’s great, Jason,” he says, at last regaining his composure.

“Is it?” Jason says, squinting at his brother.

“No, I mean—not that you—” Dick sighs, running a hand down his face and deciding to abandon that train of thought altogether. “What happened?”

“I sort of…left. Abruptly.” Jason rubs at the growing stubble on his jaw. “Like— like after…” He trails off, hoping Dick will get the idea.

Dick has to quiet the extremely loud sirens going off in his head when he (albeit incorrectly) has the realization that his baby brother, the one he still sees as four feet tall, swinging his little legs off the kitchen island and covered in cookie crumbs is, in fact, having sex. 

“Is it serious?” He asks through a stiff smile.

Jason, ever oblivious to the silent breakdown his brother is having at the door, is not sure if he’d describe what you two have as serious. He knows you fairly well, knows what you do from the nights you talk about what’s going on at work; what you like from the posters and trinkets you have hung up around your place. And yeah, you talk sometimes. He may not speak that much around you, and it’s usually just frustrated complaints about the other bats, but it’s certainly more than he speaks to most people outside his family. And he sees you more often than he does most people outside his family. And he feels more comfortable with you than—

“Jason,” Dick calls, pulling him from his thoughts. “Is it serious?” He asks again, though there’s a quirk in his brow that suggests he already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” is what Jason settles on.

“When did this happen?”

“Uh, a few days ago?” Jason says, even though he knows that’s a lie. It was 45 hours and 26 minutes ago, to be precise, but he doesn’t say that. He’s not sure how it would be received.

“You can’t go back? Just try to apologize?”

He wants to see you again, but he can’t. Doing so in the first place only put you in danger, and he was an idiot for ignoring that. If the wrong person had seen the Red Hood making consistent visits to the same window of the same building? His stomach turns at the thought.

Jason can’t imagine you’d be welcoming, either, after the way he left two nights ago. He watched you splash your face with cool water, leaving him with a shaky, watery smile, then listened to you putter around the kitchen with the promise of tea for the both of you. He felt like an asshole, picturing you coming back to the bathroom with his mug in hand, only to be met with an empty room and scattered first aid supplies on the floor. He didn’t even leave through the living room, like he entered, because you were in the kitchen. He climbed out of your bedroom window, like a coward. In his haste, he left those bloodstains he promised he would clean.

“I’m not sure she wants to see me.” Jason says quietly.

Dick answers thoughtfully; “Did she tell you that, or are you just making assumptions?”

Jason sighs. “Shit.”

“But, actually,” Dick winces. “You do have to stay here for the whole week, so…”

Jason lets out a tired groan and drops his face into his palms.

“Maybe call her?” Dick offers. He gathers the conversation is over from the way Jason glares at him, and turns to leave. But when he’s halfway out the door, he turns back. “Hey, Jaybird?”

Jason lifts his chin.

“You’re, uh…using protection, right?”

Jason blinks. It’s now that he realizes what Dick thought he was talking about and it burns him, leaving his skin red-hot.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—” He cuts himself off with a yelp, leaping out of the doorway to dodge the projectile pillow thrown at his head.

Jason hears a ‘good talk’ from the end of the hall, but is too busy with brand new concerns about his situation with you. If he could call you, he would, but he doesn’t have your number. He could easily find it, but not while he’s confined to this bedroom; he’d need access to his gear at home. And with the entire manor breathing down his neck for the next week, there was no way he’d be able to sneak out. So he’d have to wait an entire week before coming to see you again.

Maybe showing up at your place two days after the ordeal would have you understandably hurt, but nine days? You were going to be pissed. You are pissed.

Not at the Red Hood. You’re mad at yourself for being so stupid as to break down in front of him. It’s no fucking wonder he ran out the first chance he got. You sobbed into his shirt like an idiot for who knows how long. You practically felt him up. You’re an idiot for not thinking that would make him uncomfortable. And now, he’s never coming back, and you can’t even blame him!

There’s a book on your coffee table with a bookmark near the end that’s been staring at you since that night. That night when you, more consumed with confusion than anything else, dumped two mugs of fresh tea in the sink and flopped down on the couch and…waited. For what, you had no idea. The cover art took up your entire field of vision while you lied to yourself, saying you weren’t stealing glances at the window, hoping for a certain body to appear in the frame.

In the days following, the book sat there, practically taunting you until you turned it face-down so the sight of the star-constellated cover would stop making your stomach twist over in nausea. Nausea at the memory of how eager you were to pick it up at the library mere days after he had mentioned it, how you buzzed with excitement, and maybe something deeper, when you came home at night ready to snuggle into the couch with a blanket and your favorite mug to read the next chapter.

I hate you so much, you had murmured into a nasty bruise on the back of his left shoulder one night, though you couldn’t stop the grin that broke through the words.

What did I do? He replied, turning to look at you over his shoulder. 

You never told me that would happen halfway through, you said, forcing a frown when you looked up at him.

He chuckled. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to spoil it for you.

Through the amusement there was a lull in your usual rhythm. He did not need to ask which part of the book you were complaining about. He knows, knows you well enough to understand that you would be angry, reading about a budding, hopeful love that’s marred by the revelation that the boy and the girl will not make it. That their love was doomed from the start because, inevitably, he will have to leave her, and he has known the entire time that he would have to leave. That he loved her with one foot out the door.

You turned him around, ready to focus on the small abrasion at his temple when he asks, forgive me?

Fine, I guess so, you said, standing on your toes to get closer to his head.

That night replayed in your mind too often. The way he moved a ghost of an inch closer to lean into your fingers. The smell that was purely him in the grime and sweat in his hair when you pushed it back from his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t notice the extra second you lingered, fingers threaded into those streaks of white. You always wondered if they would feel different than the rest of his hair. They didn’t. They were just as soft. You wondered if anyone else knew that. You hoped not; no one else needed to know him the way you did.

(No one needed to know that you revisited that night with such frequency, either, in the middle of the night hidden under layers of blankets and darkness with nothing but your hands and imagination. You’d take that to the grave.)

Perhaps, deep down, there was a small part of you that wished he would turn up at your window again, this time armed with reasonings and apologies.

There was an emergency.

My team needed me.

I didn’t want to leave.

But after five days of radio silence, there’s not much you can do except take the hint.

You go about your normal routine, trying your hardest to push him out of your mind. Things at work are steady, your position intact and safe from usurping coworkers. You resign yourself to a fate of friends with questionable compassion, grateful to have any at all, and call up your best friend to smooth things over. She accepts, moving on to squeal about her boyfriend’s friend that she’s been dying to set you up with. You reluctantly agree to a double date somewhere down the line, but start preparing excuses and illnesses in the back of your mind.

Ten days after that night, that book is one week past its due date when you muster up the will to take it back to the Gotham Public Library.

(So maybe you still held out a small flicker of hope. What matters now is that you’re here, ready to return it and blow out that flame.)

There’s one person ahead of you when you fall into line at the front desk. He makes easy conversation with the librarian while she scans his library card; judging by the waves he garners from other passing staff, he must be popular around here.

“Thanks again, you’re the best,” he says, taking the book she hands him.

“Oh, of course,” the librarian gushes, a faint rouge coloring her face. “You let me know how you like that one.”

“I will.”

He turns around, halting suddenly to stop himself from walking into you. You mutter out an apology, ready to move past him, but he stares at you, saying nothing. His large hand tightens its grip on an old and worn book. The ends of jet black strands peek out from under a red beanie and he searches you with wide, teal eyes, mouth agape like he wants to speak. He’s looking at you like he’s been looking for you for ages, and he can’t believe you’re here.

“Hi,” he says, sounding a little breathless.

“Hi.” You clutch your book tighter against your chest, not knowing what to make of this man. It draws his eyes lower and he sees the title.

“Hi,” he says again. Then; “I— I was wondering. About that book.” He nods toward it. “I’m, uh, thinking about reading it. What did you think?”

“Oh,” you exhale. “I actually never finished it. Sorry.”

“Oh,” he echoes. His face falls, but only for a moment, before returning to a neutral expression. “Okay, sorry.”

He brushes past, leaving you addled in his wake, but also next in line. The librarian flashes you a glare when the book is scanned in as one week late. Sheepishly, you pay the fine and watch as it gets rolled away on a re-shelf cart, the last of your connections to the Red Hood rolling along with it.

It would be another two months before you saw him again.

remember after the last part when i said "ignore how his open would is just sitting there marinating"? well i figured out how to amend that👍 idk why i feel like this is so short i tried to write more but yk how it is the story goes the way it wants to i am but the messenger. i've been experiencing mad writer's block this past couple of weeks please pray for me🙏🙏🙏

listen to the inspo song!!!

[scribblesofagoonerr]

𝑀𝑜𝓃𝓀𝑒𝓎 Our Girl: Growing Up | 𝐼𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓀𝓎 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒲𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒰𝓅𝑜𝓃, 𝒮𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒯𝓊𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐹𝒶𝓁𝓁

summary: the new house move is overshadowed by monkey's first supervised visit with mark

our girl: growing up masterlist

“Looks like that was the last box in the van,” Jordan cheerfully announced, stepping into the house with a cardboard box in hand, “Now it’s the fun part of unpacking everything.”

Leah mock-wiped her brow with an exaggerated sigh, “Phew, thank God. That felt endless.”

Jacob snorted, smirking at her, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You barely carried half of them–Dad and I did all the hard work.”

“Shush, you,” Leah shot back with a playful grin, “I’ll have you know I’m carrying precious cargo.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? And what’s that then?”

“Your future niece or nephew,” Leah smirked, motioning to her stomach.

Jacob blinked before letting out a low whistle, “Touché. I’ll let you off this time.”

“Le, I’m just sorting out everything in the kitchen,” Amanda called from inside the house, already beginning her work in the kitchen, “Is there anything you guys want in a specific place?”

“No, it should be fine wherever. We can always rearrange it if needs be,” Leah responded, shrugging her shoulders, taking the moment to glance around the spacious three-bedroomed house, her expression shifting to something more contemplative, “Well, I guess this is it–home sweet home.”

You stood beside her, silent, your eyes wide scanning the unfamiliar space.

Leah had never expected to move out so soon—sure there was countless talks of it with Jordan, but the plan had always been to stay in her family home until she was at least done with her accountancy degree, but life had a way of throwing unexpected changes her way.

The biggest one? You.

You needed a safe place to stay, and Leah’s childhood home simply wasn’t big enough. So here you were–standing in the hallway of what Leah called your new home.

And then there was the baby. Leah and Jordan were only ten weeks along, but their future had already shifted in ways they hadn’t fully processed yet. You weren’t sure what that meant for you. Did this change things? Did they still want you here? Did you even belong?

“We’ll make it perfect for our kids–Monkey and our little one, whatever gender they turn out to be,” Jordan swooped behind Leah, wrapping her free arm around her girlfriend’s waist.

“My money’s still on it being a boy,” Jacob teased.

Leah huffed, rolling her eyes, “You just want a nephew to support the same team that you do.”

“Of course I do!” Jacob puffed out his chest, “I can guide him down the right path. Ain’t that right, Dad?” He asked, turning round to look at the older man who had just walked into the room.

“Absolutely,” David agreed.

“As if,” Leah scoffed, waggling her fingers in mock threat, “There’s no way my future child will support anyone but Arsenal.”

Jordan laughed in agreement, moving to crouch down to unpack a box that she’d recently brought into the house, “She’s serious about that one. If you even brought a Spurs shirt into this house, she’d probably set it on fire.”

“Correct,” Leah said, nodding firmly.

Jacob scoffed, “You can’t just expect them to pick Arsenal. What if they want to support Spurs?”

Leah shuddered dramatically, “Over my dead body.”

“Jacob does have a point though,” Jordan began, grinning at her girlfriend, “A boy would be nice–one of each then, yeah?”

“Mhm, maybe,” Leah mused, “But a girl would be nice too, wouldn’t it? Only ten more weeks until we find out.”

“Ten weeks feels like forever,” Jordan sighed.

The conversation drifted around you, the room buzzing with movement–The banter continued about which team the new baby would support, while Amanda unpacked in the kitchen and Jordan sorted through things in the living room. You stood still in the hallway, watching it all but unsure where you fit into the chaos.

Your fingers twitched at your sides before, slowly, your thumb found its way into your mouth. It was instinct, comfort–something familiar when everything else felt too new, too uncertain.

Leah must have noticed because before long, she was crouching in front of you, “Hey, my girl,” She began in a gentle tone of voice, “This is your new home now. You have your own bedroom here, and we can make it however you like–it’s entirely yours.”

“Mine?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Leah smiled, reaching out to tuck a lose strand of your hair behind your ear, “Yes, it’s yours–”

“Oi, Leah!” Jacob called, interrupting the moment the two of you had, “Where do you want this box labeled ‘kitchen’?”

“My guess would be in the kitchen there, J,” Leah laughed, her younger brothers’ question making her smile, but she barely paid him any mind with her attention still on you, “What do you think about it, my girl?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to. Talking felt too big, too hard–you felt it was safer to remain quiet at this time. 

Leah reached out, rubbing slow, circles on your arm. Then, with a small smile, she gently tapped your hand, “Hey, let’s try to keep your thumb out of your mouth, yeah? We don’t want you getting poorly from the yucky germs, do we?”

You hesitated but, after a few seconds, pulled your thumb away, rubbing it against your sleeve instead. Leah nodded approvingly and stood up, holding her hand out, “Come on, let’s go see your room.”

“It… It’s mine?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, it is,” Leah agreed, squeezing her hand reassuringly as you began to climb the stairs, walking into your new bedroom, “Do you like it? We can decorate it however you want.”

Your brows furrowed, “But… But I thought this was only temporary.”

“This is your home now, Monkey,” Leah reassured you, crouching to meet your eye level, “You’re here, and you don’t have to worry about going anywhere, alright?”

You hesitated, shifting your weight, “I… I guess so.”

“Plenty of room for all those Lego bricks you love to leave everywhere,” Leah added, nudging you lightly.

“How do you like it, little one?” Jordan poked her head around your bedroom door, “Think there’s enough space on the walls to put up all those Shrek posters–hey, we can even paint it green if you want, or yellow, like Spongebob?” She grinned playfully.

Leah laughed, squeezing your hand again, “This is your home now, Monkey. With us. We want you to feel safe here. To be happy.”

“H… Happy?” You echoed uncertainly.

“That’s right, my girl,” Leah’s voice was warm, “Your happiness is what matters most to us.”

Before you could respond, a loud crash from downstairs made you jump.

“Jacob!” Amanda’s voice rang out.

“That wasn’t me!” Jacob not-so-innocently replied.

Leah chuckled before turning back to you, “We should probably go and see what’s going on. Do you want to come with us, or do you want to explore your new room?”

You hesitated for a beat, then whispered, “I… I want to come.”

Leah didn’t waste time holding out her hand again, “Come on then, cheeky Monkey. Let’s go see what chaos awaits downstairs.”

As you walked together, you heard Jordan murmur behind you.

“Home sweet home, eh?”

Leah hummed in agreement, “Home sweet home. It’s going to be perfect–for us and our kid."

“Come on my girl, you need to eat more than that,” Leah noted the untouched plate of food that was set in front of you on the table, “I know you like it, and you even have baked beans instead of spaghetti hoops this time, so what’s the problem, hm?”

The following night in your new home should have been the start of a new and exciting new adventure, a new chapter with them–however, that was overshadowed by the planned court-ordered supervised visit with your dad that had been mentioned to you in passing conversation the next day.

That set your mood for the rest of the evening.

You hadn’t even bothered to lift your fork to take a bite of your food, “I… I don’t want to.”

“You’ve hardly touched it,” Jordan added.

You scrunched your face up in protest, “I don’t care! I don’t want it–I’m not eating it!”

“Well you can’t not eat anything, can you?” Leah remained calm and patient, fixing you with a knowing look, “If you don’t eat your dinner then you won’t get any pudding, and I know how much you like that, don’t you?”

“I don’t care!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms over your chest as you scowled at your dinner, “It’s dumb and stupid! I… I don’t want it!”

“Right, okay then…” Leah exhaled a sigh, rubbing her temples–she wasn’t angry at you, not really. But she hated seeing you like this, torn between giving in and holding her ground, “If you don’t want to eat your dinner then that’s fine, but you will not be eating anything else–no cake, no biscuits, no chocolate.”

“That’s not fair!” You growled aloud, getting angry at the idea of not being allowed any nice treats, “I… I want them!”

“Neither is wasting dinner that Jordan has cooked,” Leah wasn’t budging on her own decision, “You know the rules. If you’re not going to eat your dinner then you’re not getting any nice things.”

You continued to scowl at Leah, keeping your arms crossed over your chest, “Don’t wanna eat stupid dinner…”

“I know you don’t want to, Monkey,” Leah remained patient the entire time, “But you need to eat. It’s important.”

“No, don’t wanna,” Your hands clenched into fists under the table, nails digging into your palms as you glared at the plate. A lump formed in your throat, and you could feel the tightness in your chest that you didn’t know how to explain. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, but you were trying so hard to keep them back.

Leah furrowed her brow, sensing this was something bigger than you being stubborn and not wanting to eat your dinner, “What is this about, madam?”

“Nuffin’ I just am not hungry!” You exclaimed.

Leah didn’t automatically believe that. She knew it was something deeper than just not being hungry, “Monkey, come on. Talk to me, my girl. What’s going on inside that head of yours, hm?”

“I… I don’t want to,” Your voice faltered, afraid to admit what was the actual source of your upset.

“Don’t want to, what?” Leah repeated in a gentle tone of voice, “You can trust me, Monkey. If something is upsetting you then I would like to know, please.”

“I don’t want to go,” You mumbled so quietly that you were barely even heard, “I… I don’t want to see him.”

“Oh,” Leah’s realisation was immediate as she exhaled a sigh, “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll be okay. Hannah will be there with you the whole time, won’t she?” She reassured you the best that she could.

That did nothing to ease the sour mood you were in, “NO! I don’t want to go, Le!”

“I know you don’t, but it’s not our decision on this… I’m sorry, my girl,” Leah hated the idea of the courts being able to give your dad a second chance, but there wasn’t a lot that she could do about it to make them think differently–it wasn’t her decision.

You huffed, sitting slouched at the dinner table while continuing to glare at your untouched dinner like you had a personal vendetta against it, “I… I don’t want to go.”

“Hey, it’s only going to be for a couple of hours, and then you’ll be back here, won’t you?” Leah reminded you with a kind smile.

You still weren’t keen on the idea regardless, “I don’t want to go!”

Leah frowned, pursing her lips, “I’m sorry, Monkey, but it’s out of our hands.”

“NO!” You shot up from the table so fast that your chair scraped across the floor. Without another word, you bolted up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door so hard the walls rattled.

“Monkey–” Leah stood up, frustration written all over her face, ready to go after you.

“Hey, just let her calm down, Le,” Jordan interrupted, placing a steady hand on her girlfriend’s arm, “Let’s just give her a minute to calm down.”

“You’re right,” Leah relented, exhaling a sigh.

Jordan sympathsised with her girlfriend’s frustration, “It’s a lot for her to deal with, remember? We’ll talk to her when she’s ready.”

“How could the court even consider giving him a second chance?” Leah’s voice cracked slightly as she muttered the words, disbelief and anger mingling in her tone, “Those photos… the bruises… it’s not enough for them?”

Jordan moved closer to Leah, placing a gentle hand on her back, “I know, but it’s been agreed and there’s nothing we can do about it,” She explained, “Let’s just hope… Well for now, let’s just hope that it goes well tomorrow.”

“Thank God Hannah will be there to supervise it,” Leah murmured quietly.

“Come on, come sit down and finish eating,” Jordan gestured Leah to sit back down at the table and finish her own dinner, “It’s not good for you to be getting so worked up. You have the baby to think about, remember?”

“I know… I just…” Leah’s hands balled into fists as she leaned against the kitchen counter, “I feel so helpless, Jord. We can’t protect her from this… We can’t protect her from him.”

“Le,” Jordan began to speak before the sound of furniture crashing echoed through the house, followed by a drawer being yanked open and your muffled shout, “What on earth was that?”

Leah’s shoulders slumped in resignation, “That would be Monkey destroying everything in her room… again.”

“Wakey, wakey, Monkey,” Leah gently nudged you, her voice soft and warm. Your bedroom was still a mess from the meltdown last night–clothes scattered, stuffed animals thrown across the room, blankets half-hanging off the bed. But Leah didn’t say anything about it. She just carried on with the morning routine, the same one she’d followed every day this past month, like you hadn’t spent the night crying into her chest until you finally wore yourself out.

You’d wake up, and then you’d have breakfast while watching morning cartoons–Coco Pops and Spongebob, always the same. Your routine was solid, it was safe. Change was bad. You hated it when things changed.

Leah was always the one to wake you up. You’d learned that Jordan preferred her lie-ins–though Leah joked that wouldn’t be happening much longer when the new baby arrived.

You weren’t sure how to feel about that. Would you still get your morning cartoons? Would they steal all the cereal?

“I know you’re awake, madam. You can’t fool me,” A smile tugged at Leah’s lips as she reached out to tickle your foot, the one spot she knew would always make you giggle, “See? I knew it.”

“Not fair,” You muttered, scrunching your face up in protest.

“Did you sleep well, my girl?” Leah’s voice was soft, but of course she already knew the answer–it was a definite no. She’d woken up with you several times throughout the night, but then, Leah wasn’t sure there had been a single night in the last month that you had actually slept through the night.

“M’ still sleepy,” You mumbled, pulling the duvet over your head in an attempt to hide.

“I know. But come on, we’ve got a busy day ahead,” Leah’s tone stayed gentle, but there was an edge of something else in her voice–something that made you tense up, “Do you remember what’s happening today?”

Of course you remembered. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it since yesterday. Your heart started to race just at the thought of it.

You didn’t want to see your dad, let alone sit in the same room as him. The idea made your stomach churn.

Maybe if you just pretended to be asleep long enough, then you wouldn’t have to go?

“I don’t want to go, Le,” Your voice was small, almost a whisper.

“I know, Monkey, I know,” Leah’s hand brushed your hair back gently, as if she was trying to soothe the anxiety bubbling up inside you, “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t make you go either. But…”

“Then make it happen,” You whispered desperately.

Leah hesitated, her fingers pausing on your hair for a moment before she sighed, “It’s just not that simple, Monkey. This… This is out of my hands.”

You didn’t like that answer.

You curled in on yourself, gripping the duvet tighter. It wasn’t fair. Leah was the grown up–if she really wanted to, she could stop this, couldn’t she?

She could fix it.

“Come on,” Leah coaxed after a moment, “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you? You didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“M’ not,” You protested against the idea.

Leah hummed like she didn’t quite believe you, “Well, if we go downstairs now, I’m pretty sure we’ll make it in time for another episode of Spongebob.”

You turned your face deeper into the pillow, “Don’t wanna watch it.”

“You don’t?” Leah sounded amused, “Now that is something new.”

“I just wanna go back to bed,” You huffed, your voice growing thick with frustration, “I don’t wanna go to the stupid visit!”

The words exploded out of you before you could stop them, your hands balling up into fists against the mattress.

Leah didn’t react right away. She didn’t scold you or tell you off. She just sighed, shifting so she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I know you don’t want to do this, Monkey,” She said quietly, “And believe me, if I could change it, I would. But you know I can’t. It’s out of my control.  And I know you’re scared about this, but it’s going to be fine. Okay? You’re not going to go through this on your own.”

Her words sat heavy in the air between you.

You hated this. You hated everything about it.

“It’s not fair,” You muttered.

Leah nodded in understanding, “I know it’s not.”

She didn’t try to force you out of bed. She just stayed there, waiting, letting you feel what you needed to feel.

And then, after a while, she spoke again, but softer this time.

“Tell you what. How about we go downstairs, yeah? You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. We can just sit together. We can watch Spongebob, or something else entirely different if you want. I just want you to be happy.”

You hesitated.

You didn’t want to go downstairs. You didn’t want to do anything. But… Leah was waiting. She wasn’t going to leave.

You peeked out from under the duvet, “Anything?”

Leah smiled, “Anything.”

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse. But still, slowly, you pushed the duvet back.

Leah held out her hand, patient as ever.

After a moment, you took it.

But it was never going to be that easy.

If you’d have asked Leah and Jordan, then the entire morning leading up to the visit was a gruelling task–everything was a struggle, and you weren’t shy about making it clear that you didn’t want to go to the contact centre.

“Monkey, you have to get dressed,” Leah’s voice was tired and her patience fraying after hours of battling with you over even the smallest tasks.

“No I don’t!” You argued, shaking your head and refusing to follow instructions–in your head, if you didn’t get dressed then you wouldn’t have to go.

Simple. Or so you thought it would be.

“Yes you do,” Leah’s tone was firm, but she wasn’t without empathy. The frustration was growing on her side, but she tried to keep her voice steady, ”Come on, let’s get dressed, okay?”

“NO!” You kicked out, your fists clenching as you tried to make your point clear. It wasn’t just about the clothes. It was everything–the whole day that felt impossible.

“Well unless you want to go out wearing your pyjamas then you have to get changed,” Leah tried to reason with you, her voice quieter, like you were much younger than you were, seemingly the only approach that would have any hope of working, “Come on, let’s go and find something for you to wear.”

“I don’t wanna wear that!” You pushed the shirt she offered away, shaking your head furiously as the tears welled in your eyes.

“Okay,” Leah said gently, holding up another shirt, her hands already trembling a little from the pressure, “What about this one instead?”

“NO!” You were beyond reasoning now, your body tense with defiance, face scrunched up in frustration. The more she tried, the more you pushed back. The tension was growing, and Leah could feel it too.

“Hey, hey, less of the shouting please,” Leah sighed, massaging her temple as the beginnings of a headache crept in. She could already feel the strain of your resistance, “Right, how about… how about this one?” She asked, holding up yet another option.

You scrunched your face up in further protest, “No–I’m not going!” Your voice cracked, raw emotion slipping through despite your best attempts to stay in control.

“How’s it going in here?” Jordan gingerly popped her head around the door, more than aware of the answer–she’d heard the full high-pitched screaming from downstairs.

“Well every outfit so far is out of the question,” Leah muttered sarcastically, “How about your Arsenal top? You love that one, don’t you.”

You couldn’t wear that top–your dad was dead against your team. Arsenal– it wouldn’t go well if you wore it, “NO! I’m not wearin’ that–I’m not goin’ there. I’m not doing it!”

Leah’s heart hurt hearing the plea in your voice. This was the crux of it. You didn’t want to go to the contact centre–the one place where you were expected to interact with your dad, and the thought of that terrified you. The idea of being forced to see him–of being near him at all–filled you with dread.

Leah knew it. Jordan knew it. But the court had decided that your dad deserved a second chance, and that was something neither of them could change.

“We’ve been through this, Monkey,” Leah said, her voice softening with sympathy, “I know you don’t want to go, but it’s not my decision. The court decided it, so we have to… we just have to follow their rules, alright?”

“The court is dumb,” You muttered, the words bitter and resentful. The fear was still there, swirling just beneath the surface, but it was now tinged with anger, too.

“The court might be dumb,” Leah said with a small, tired smile, “But I am still going to need you to get dressed for me, please?”

“Nuh-uh. You’re a meanie making me go! I don’t want to go!” Your voice trembled, thick with the frustration and terror you were feeling. You weren’t just refusing to–you were desperately trying to convince Leah to take control, to make the decision that you so badly wanted her to make, “I don’t wanna–you can’t make me!”

“I’m sorry, I really wish that it was up to me to decide,” Leah said softly, her voice breaking just a little at the edges, “I love you so much, I’m sorry that you have to do this. It’s only for an hour and a half and then you’ll be back here, and you’ll be safe, yeah? It won’t be that long, my girl,” She told you, biting her bottom lip, knowing she had to remain calm and sensible in this current situation.

Leah absolutely hated this.

She hated seeing you like this–the raw fear that ran so deep.

But the rules were the rules, and they had to be followed.

“No,” You whined, stomping your foot in protest, “Tell them not to allow it, Le,” You pleaded again, your voice weak and full of exhaustion.

Leah’s heart cracked just a little more, “I wish I could, Monkey,” She said, her voice steady but soft, “But we have to follow the rules, even if it’s unfair.”

“I would rather go to school than this,” You blurted out, desperate for anything to change the situation, even if it meant facing a classroom full of uncomfortable lessons and unwanted classmates.

“Wow? School? That must say a lot then, huh,” Leah replied with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her heart ached for you. She could see how desperate you were to avoid what was coming–she couldn’t blame you for not wanting to go.

“Why can’t I just stay here?” You turned to her, your big eyes pleading.

“You are staying here, we’re not going anywhere,” Leah said, her voice gentle now, trying to comfort you as best as she could, “But this… this visit needs to happen, okay? It’s not going to be like before, I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back.”

You looked at her, your face scrunching with fear, and the tears started to fall freely now, “I… I don’t want to see him. And I… I don’t want to talk to him.”

“I know,” Leah whispered, her hand moving to your hair as she gently stroked it, trying to calm you down, “I know you’re scared. You don’t have to talk to him until you’re ready. But it’s really important that we follow the rules, Monkey.”

“Please… Please don’t make me go, Le,” Your hands were trembling now, and the tears blurred your vision as you struggled to catch your breath. You could feel the tightness in your chest again–the same tightness that you always felt when things felt out of control.

Leah didn’t push you to stop crying. Instead, she pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around you protectively, letting you feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. You clutched at her tightly, your hands still trembling in fear as you buried your face into her chest. 

Leah’s hug felt tight… and safe.

You didn’t want to let go.

“It’s going to be okay,” Leah whispered into your hair, gently rocked you back and forth, her voice soothing and steady, “I’m right here, I’m right here with you.”

The knock at the door broke the conversation, and you flinched in sheer panic.

That meant time was ticking, and you would have to face your dad soon.

“That’ll be Hannah at the door. I’ll go let her in,” Jordan straightened up, making her way out of your bedroom, “I’ll let her know that we’re having a bit of a wobble at the minute.”

Leah looked over from where she held you tight against her and nodded, “Thanks, Jord.”

You continued to tremble in fear. You didn’t want to go, but you had no say in the matter.

Leah continued to hold you tight in her arms, “Hey, hey, I’m here. Listen, I know you’re scared, my girl,” She cooed, “And I know it’s a scary thing to go through, but you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me, you’ve got Jordy, and there’s this new Bubba as well kicking away in my belly. We’re a family now, my girl, okay? And no one can take that away from us.”

“I don’t want to see him, Le. I… I don’t want to see him. He scares me, Le,” You admitted, your bottom lip wobbling as the fear continued to pool in.

Leah swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, using one hand to keep a protective hold on you and the other hand to run through her hair, “I know, my girl. I know you’re scared. It’s just an hour. It’s one hour and then it’ll be over and done with. I promise, it’s not going to be for long.”

“Hi, Hannah. Come in,” Jordan’s voice was tired as she answered the door, her concern evident as she stepped aside to let the social worker in, “Things are… a bit tough at the minute. Monkey’s not exactly coping well.”

“Hi, Jordan,” Hannah  offered a small, sympathetic smile as she stepped inside, “I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling, but we’ll go at her pace. No rush.”

“Thank you,” Jordan sighed, running a hand through her hair, “This morning has been rough. Leah’s upstairs trying to get her dressed, but she’s fighting it every step of the way.”

Hannah nodded, understanding, “I imagine this isn’t easy for her. How long has she been like this? It’s hard to stick to a routine when everything feels so uncertain.”

“Since last night, when we told her,” Jordan exhaled sharply, “She had a meltdown. Trashed her room again. She’s scared. And honestly? I don’t blame her. None of this is fair.”

Hannah’s lips pressed in a thin line as she nodded, “I agree. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t allow this. But the court believes in second chances, unfortunately.”

Jordan scoffed, shaking her head, “Yeah? Well, I think she deserves a second chance more than he does. We’ve worked so hard to build some kind of stability for her, and now… it feels like all of that progress is just unravelling.”

“I understand why you might feel like that,” Hannah placed a reassuring hand on Jordan’s arm, “But I promise, it’s obvious that she feels safe here with you both.”

Jordan swallowed, nodding, “I hope so. I just hate that she has to go through this. She was finally settling in–she had her routine, she had stability… and now this just throws everything off.”

“I know,” Hannah’s voice was soft, “Consistency is so important for her, and having this looming over her must make it even harder. Has she been sleeping any better?”

Jordan hesitated before shaking her head, “Not really. She’s been waking up a lot. Leah and I take turns getting up with her, but she’s so unsettled. Nightmares, accidents, the whole thing. I think she’s just terrified all of this is going to be taken away from her.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Hannah sighed, “She’s been through so much already. She’s probably scared this isn’t permanent. That any second, she’ll be back with Mark.”

Jordan rubbed at her face, then hesitated before murmuring, “We, um… we just actually found out we’re pregnant. It’s still early, but… we’re excited.”

Hannah’s face lit up, “Oh, that’s amazing news! Congratulations!”

Jordan smiles softly, “Thank you. We haven’t told many people yet. Monkey knows–we’re just not sure how she feels about it.”

“I think it might take her some time to process, but I think she’ll love being a big sister,” Hannah gave a thoughtful nod, “It’s clear she adores you both–I can see her being fiercely protective.”

“Yeah, I can picture that too,” Jordan chuckled, “I just want her to know that no matter what, she’s ours. That’s never going to change.”

Hannah’s expression was warm, “She knows, Jordan. Even when she’s scared, even when she’s struggling–she knows.”

“I really hope so,” Jordan exhaled a sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly.

Back upstairs, Leah finally managed to tug a jumper over your head, exhaling heavily as she braced herself for the next battle–brushing your hair, cleaning your teeth. Every little task felt like an uphill struggle.

She hated this. Hated seeing you this upset. None of this was fair.

“One task down, several more to go,” Leah muttered to herself, grabbing your hairbrush and a loose bobble, “Come here, Monkey–no, don’t start jumping on the bed. Sit down so I can do your hair.”

You ignored her, too busy bouncing on your bed with a renewed energy, “I don’t wanna sit down–I wanna watch Scooby Doo!”

Leah sighed, trying to wrangle you down, “I know, but we need to get ready first. When you come home, you can watch it. Okay?”

“No! I want to watch it now!” You kicked out defiantly.

“Monkey, not now,” Leah said firmly, running a hand through her hair, “We need to get ready for today.”

You shook your head in defiance, “No! I want to watch Scooby Doo!”

Leah inhaled deeply, keeping her patience, “Listen, my girl, I know you want to, but you can’t right now. You have to go out, remember? The contact centre, with Hannah like we talked about, remember?”

“Nuh uh, I don’t wanna go,” You mumbled in protest.

Leah’s heart clenched, “I know, my girl. But this isn’t our decision to make. When you come home, we can watch whatever you want. Scooby Doo, The Lion King–whatever you’d like, yeah?”

Your face scrunched up and your whole body tensed, “No! No, no, no! I’m not going!”

“Monkey, I… I know this is really hard,” Leah crouched in front of you, keeping her voice soft but steady, “I know you don’t want to go, but Hannah’s here now. We have to try, okay?”

“I… I’m scared,” Your bottom lip trembled.

Leah’s expression softened, “I know, my girl. I know that you’re scared but Hannah will be there with you the whole time. She won’t let anything bad happen.”

You hesitated to agree to the idea of this, “You… You promise?”

Leah swallowed past the lump in her throat, then held out her pinky, “When have I ever broken a promise, eh?”

After a moment, you hooked your pinky around hers, sniffling.

“I promise you, Monkey. I know you’re scared, but Hannah won’t let anything bad happen to you, will she?” Leah reminded you gently.

“N… No,” You replied, biting your bottom lip.

“Exactly,” Leah ruffled your hair, “So… can we finish getting ready?” She held up the hairbrush, “And when we get home, we’ll do something nice. A movie, hot chocolate, proper snuggles–how does that sound?”

You hesitated, eyes darting to the floor. Then, with a reluctant nod, you jumped off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud bang that made Leah wince.

“That’s my good girl,” Leah praised, pressing a light kiss to your temple before working quickly to brush through your tangled hair, knowing full well your patience wouldn’t last long.

“I’ll see you when you’re home, my girl,” Leah forced a smile as she crouched to your level, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Just an hour, okay? That’s all.”

“We love you,” Jordan added, her voice steady, reassuring.

You huffed in response, crossing your arms. It felt too much like before—like all those times you begged not to go. Like all those times you hadn’t been given a choice.

You didn’t like that.

Leah hated this. She hated watching you step through the door. Hated the way your little fingers gripped Hannah’s hand instead of hers. Even knowing you were coming back didn’t make it easier. It never did.

The door clicked shut.

“She hates me,” Leah murmured, staring at the space you’d just occupied, arms wrapping protectively around herself as if that might hold her together.

Jordan scoffed softly, stepping closer, “She’s a child, Le. it’s not possible for her to hate you.”

“Yeah, but it feels like I sent her away,” Leah’s voice cracked, her arms tightening as if she could still hold onto you.

Jordan’s hand rested against Leah’s back, grounding her, “The difference is, she’s coming back. In less than two hours–”

Leah didn’t waver from the front door, “Right now, an hour feels like forever.”

Jordan sighed, placing a steadying hand on Leah’s back, “I know. But stressing yourself out like this isn’t good for you in your condition. You need to take it easy–”

Leah shot her a look, “In my condition? Wow, Jord, flattery like that will get you nowhere.”

Jordan rolled her eyes but softened, “You know what I mean. I just… I don’t want you worrying yourself sick over this. Just… remember to breathe.”

“How am I supposed to breathe easy when I know she’s in a room with him?” Leah whispered, jaw clenched.

Jordan hesitated before replying, choosing her words carefully, “I know. It’s impossible to wrap my head around, too.”

Leah scoffed bitterly, “It shouldn’t even be allowed. He deserves to be locked up for what he’s put her through.”

“I know,” Jordan’s voice was quiet but firm, “I agree with you, and if I could, I would. You know that.”

Leah exhaled sharply, rubbing her face tiredly, “It’s just… I feel so powerless. We’ve built this for her, Jord. Safety. Stability. And now some judge gets to undo all of it with a flick of a pen? It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Jordan squeezed her shoulder, “But this is where she belongs, Le. No matter what happens in that room, she’s coming home to us. She’s not the same little girl he controlled before—she has us now.”

“But what if he confuses her?” Leah’s voice was barely above a whisper now, “ What if he says all the right things and makes her doubt everything?”

“That isn’t going to happen. Because she’s our girl,” Jordan turned Leah to face her fully, “She’s ours. We’re not going to lose her again. We’ll remind her that she’s loved and that he doesn’t get to hurt her anymore.”

Leah blinked rapidly, swallowing against the tightness in her throat, “I just want her to be happy and I hate the fact that she has to be put through this. It’s just not right, and I hate to think about how this is going to affect her when she comes back.”

“I know,” Jordan murmured, squeezing Leah’s hand, “But right now, we don’t have a choice. And that’s just the hardest part, isn’t it?”

Leah didn’t answer. She just looked at the door again, like she could will you back home.

Jordan rubbed her arm gently, “Come on, sit down for a bit. You need to rest.”

“No,” Leah shook her head in disagreement, “I can’t sit still. Not when she’s there… with him.”

“Standing there won’t make the time go quicker, Le,” Jordan told her in a gentle tone of voice.

“I know,” Leah admitted, her voice dropping lower so it’s barely audible, “I just can’t stop thinking about her. She’s our girl. I’m worried about her. I’ll always be worried about her.”

“At least come and sit down on the sofa, Le. I’ll make us a drink and we can talk to pass the time, yeah?”

Leah hesitated but eventually nodded in agreement, “Alright, fine.”

You stared ahead at the building in front of you, sitting in the back seat of Hannah’s car. The sight of it made your stomach twist in knots. You could feel the weight around you, thick with dread.

“Do I… Do I have to go in there?” Your voice was small, fragile. You couldn’t hide how terrified you felt.

“I’m afraid so, Monkey. I’m sorry,” Hannah responded, her voice soft and apologetic. She glanced back at you, offering a sympathetic smile, “But I’ll be right there with you the whole time. We can take this slow, okay? You don’t have to say anything, not unless you want to.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. You didn’t want to be here–you didn’t want to face him. Mark. The man who made your skin crawl just thinking about him.

Your stomach churned painfully at the thought of seeing him, let alone sitting in a room with him.

The moment you stepped inside the contact centre, everything felt wrong. It was as though you were walking straight into a trap. Your hands tightened around Hannah’s, your feet feeling like they were stuck to the floor. You tried to push down the rising panic in your chest, but it didn’t work.

You spotted Mark before he even saw you. His posture was slouched, knees bouncing too fast. His clothes were wrinkled, and the air around him smelled stale–like the alcohol from the night before.

Surely, he hadn’t come here still smelling like that, had he?

Then he looked up, and his face lit up in a way that sent a chill down your spine. It wasn’t a warm, welcome smile–it was a predatory kind of grin.

“Kiddo! Kiddo, over here!” Mark waved, his voice too loud, too enthusiastic.

Your body stiffened at the word–it felt cruel, like he didn’t care about how that word twisted your insides. You wanted to shrink into the floor and disappear.

“I don’t want to be here,” You mumbled, your feet still rooted to the floor, your body frozen in place.

Hannah’s hand gently pressed on your shoulder, a soft comfort against the rising fear inside of you, “I know, sweetheart. Let’s just take it one step at a time, okay? We don’t have to rush.”

But Mark’s voice sliced through the air again, you felt like you were trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“Hey, kiddo,” He greeted again, his tone flat and too casual.

Hannah took a step forward, standing firm between you and Mark, “We’re not rushing this today, Mark. This is just a stepping stone, and we’re doing this at her pace. She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Mark didn’t seem to care much about that. His eyes gleamed with an eager sort of energy like he was too excited about something he didn’t fully understand, “I brought you something, kiddo. I hope you like it.”

He dug into his khaki green jacket, pulling out a stuffed animal–a Chelsea bear.

Your heart sank. Chelsea? You didn’t care about Chelsea. You didn’t even want it. He knew you were an Arsenal fan–you played for the team. Arsenal is in your blood. It’s your home. He knew that, right? Why would he give you a Chelsea bear? Your stomach flipped in disgust. It wasn’t just the team–it was the fact that he thought this would make everything better.

He held out the bear to you, but you didn’t move. Your breath caught in your throat as panic surged through you, hot and suffocating.

“I–no–” You tried to speak, but the words were stuck in your throat. Your body started to tremble, your hands shaking as your mind screamed at you to run.

Hannah immediately noticed, stepping between you and Mark, her voice gentle but firm, “Mark, I don’t think that’s appropriate,” She glanced down at you, noticing the distress in your face, “We’re not doing this today.”

Mark shrugged, like he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, “Right, course, but the thought counts, I guess,” He tossed the bear on the small table in front, too careless, too unconcerned.

It was too much. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in on you. Your vision blurred, and tears welled up, hot and fast. Your body betrayed you in the worst possible way, and the burning shame flooded your chest as warmth spread through your clothes. You couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t control it. All you could do was crumble in place, the weight of it overwhelming.

Hannah was at your side in an instant, her hand warm and reassuring on your back, “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay,” She whispered, her voice gentle, but it couldn’t undo the flood of panic that had taken hold of you.

“I… I’m sorry,” You choked out, the words barely escaping your lips through the tears.

Then, Mark’s voice cut through the moment like a knife.

“Seriously, kid, are you a fucking retard or something?” He sneered, his tone laced with disgust, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Can’t even control yourself like a normal kid.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you flinched, your face burning in humiliation. Your tears came faster, the shame washed over you in waves. It felt like everything was falling apart.

Hannah stood frozen beside you, her mouth slightly open, but no words came out. Shock flickered across her face–disbelief, anger, something else–but she was too stunned to react in the moment. For a second, it seemed like it might say something, but instead, she just reached for your hand and pulled you toward the door, her grip firm yet careful.

As she reached for the handle, her gaze landed on the Chelsea bear sitting on the table. Without thinking, she scooped it up and tucked it under her arm as if it was something you’d want. 

But you didn’t. Not now. Not when it felt tainted.

The woman didn’t say anything as she led you outside, didn’t even look back at Mark, but Hannah made a mental note of it to add to the report later down the line when she came to write it–his words were there, haunting her. She would make sure to note the vile comment he made, making it known to the court that this man was not capable of ever being given custody of his daughter again.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” You mumbled again, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Hannah said softly, guiding you toward the car, “It’s going to be okay. Let’s get you home so you can clean up, alright?”

Hannah’s hand stayed firmly on your back, as if she could shield you from everything with just that touch. But as you climbed into the back seat, the dampness clinging to your clothes was unbearable, but there was nothing you could do--you had no spare clothes, no way to escape the lingering humiliation.

All you could do was sit there, staring out of the window, as the weight of it all pressed down on you.

The car ride back to Leah and Jordan’s house was silent. Not the peaceful kind of silence, but the thick, suffocating kind that pressed against your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

Hannah kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror, her face etched with worry, but she didn’t push. She didn’t ask you to talk. She just drove, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tight.

You stared out the window, numb. Mark’s words echoed in your head, rattling around like they were trying to carve themselves into your bones.

“Seriously, kid, are you a fucking retard or something?”

Your throat felt tight. Your chest ached.

By the time Hannah had pulled into the driveway, you couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

“Hi, my girl. How was it…” Leah’s words were cut off as you bolted past her and up the stairs.

You didn’t stop running until you were in your bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you.

Your skin burned with humiliation. The damp fabric of your clothes clung to you like a second skin, suffocating, a disgusting reminder of what had happened. You yanked at them, stripping them off as fast as you could, your fingers trembling with rage and shame.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Mark’s words cut through you, sharper than any knife.

You dug your nails into your arms, pressing hard and trying to ground yourself–an attempt to drown out his voice. But it wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

Stop, stop, stop.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but it didn’t help. His voice–mocking, cruel–kept coming back, over and over, like a relentless wave.

“Are you a fucking retard?”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Leah and Jordan stood frozen, exchanging worried glances as the sound of your bedroom slamming echoed through the house.

Hannah exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah… so that went about as well as you’d expected.”

Jordan folded her arms, “That bad?”

Hannah hesitated, then nodded, “She… had an accident,” She kept her voice gentle, careful, but it didn’t stop the way Leah’s brows furrowed with concern, “And Mark… he–” She sighed, shaking her head, “Well, his words weren’t exactly pleasant.”

Leah’s jaw tightened, “What did he say?”

Hannah hesitated again, but there was no way to sugarcoat it, “He called for a ‘fucking retard’ for it.”

Silence.

Jordan inhaled sharply, her grip tightening on the back of the sofa tightening until her knuckles turned white.

Leah’s entire body stiffened, something dangerous flickering behind her eyes, “He did what!?”

Hannah held up a hand, a silent plea for them to stay calm, “She’s going to be spiralling. It’s going to be tense for a bit, and I think it’d be smart to be prepared for any future visits–”

Leah’s temper snapped, cutting Hannah off, “You mean he’s getting to see her again?! After he called her such vulgar things!” Her words were sharp, loaded with unstrained anger.

“It’s not up to me to decide that, Leah,” Hannah’s shoulders tightened, her gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Leah’s, “I’ll note it in my report, but ultimately…” Her voice trailed off, the weight of the situation settling in.

“It’s the court that makes that decision,” Jordan finished her thought, her tone grim.

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling a slow breath, “I’m going to go and talk to her,” She muttered, already turning toward the hallway.

Jordan didn’t stop her. She knew better than to get in Leah’s way when it came to you. Instead, she turned back to Hannah, voice low and controlled, “What else happened?”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Jordan. He was… He was horrible to her,” Hannah admitted.

Jordan exhaled sharply, running a hand down her face as she tried to steady her anger bubbling under her skin, “That fucking bastard,” She muttered, pacing the living room.

Hannah nodded grimly, “Yeah, it was bad, Jordan,” She hesitated, her voice softening, “She was doing okay at first. I mean, she was nervous, but she was handling it. And then Mark just–” She let out a frustrated breath, “The second the accident happened, he flipped. You could see it in her face, the way she just… shut down.”

“I swear to God,” Jordan clenched her jaw, eyes dark with fury, “If the courts ever make her go back there, I’ll–”

“I know,” Hannah’s voice was gentle, but firm, “But right now, she’s here. She’s safe. And she needs you both to remember that.”

Jordan swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a deep breath, “She’s gonna spiral,” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

Hannah nodded, “She already is.”

Jordan rubbed at her temple, “We should’ve known something like this would happen. We should’ve–”

“Stop,” Hannah placed a hand on Jordan’s arm, “You couldn’t have stopped this. You couldn’t have prevented it. All you do now is be there to help her through it.”

“Yeah,” Jordan exhaled through her nose, shoulders slumped slightly, “Yeah, you’re right,” She murmured.

“I usually am,” Hannah smirked, then sobered, “You should pack that bag for the next visit, just in case. Even if it doesn’t happen again. It’ll be good to have it to stop her going through that embarrassment again.”

Jordan sighed, nodding, “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of and ready for next time.”

Leah was furious. How could she not be? Hearing the venom in Mark’s words, knowing how deeply they cut–you–it made her blood boil. The fact he still had any access to you at all was unfathomable. She hated it. 

Every. Single. Bit of it.

Her footsteps were quiet as she ascended the stairs, but the weight of what had just happened pressed down on her like a heavy fog. The air felt thick, charged with emotions too overwhelming to name.

You were so fragile, and Mark’s words had carved through you like a blade. Leah knew that, knew the way you carried wounds that no one could see.

At the top of the stairs, Leah hesitated. A muffled scraping noise reached her ears, followed by the sound of something heavy shifting across the floor.

Her stomach dropped.

What is she doing?

Leah moved quickly, her grip tightening on the railing as she reached your door. Then came another sound–wood dragging, a soft grunt of frustration.

“Monkey?” Leah called out, worriedly as she felt her heart tighten.

Leah pushed open the door, just enough to see you struggling, your small frame straining as you tried to shift the chest of drawers across the floor. Your breathing was shallow, your movements frantic, desperate.

Leah’s pulse kicked up. Instinct took over as she stepped inside, “Hey, hey, what’re you doing?” She asked frantically, “You’re going to hurt yourself, Monkey!”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide and panicked. For a split second, you froze–a deer caught in headlights–before quickly looking away, biting your lip. You didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, my girl,” Leah repeated her words, softening her tone, “Come on, let’s go sit down on the bed and talk, yeah?”

You didn’t listen. You clenched your fists and pushed harder, your whole body shaking with effort.

Leah’s heart clenched. She knew you were spiralling. She had seen it before, the way you tried to make yourself small, tried to block out the world. But barricading yourself in your room–was this the only way you thought you could stay safe?

Then, in one final shove, the chest of drawers teetered precariously. The furniture wobbled, tilting at a dangerous angle. Leah’s heart lurched.

“Monkey, no!” Leah lunged forward, her reflexes kicking in and she reached and caught it before it could fall on top of you. Her hands gripped the edge, holding it steady, and for a brief moment, everything felt like it was frozen in place.

You stared up at her, your breathing coming in shallow gasps, eyes wide with something Leah couldn’t quite name–fear, shock, something deeper.

Then, like a switch had flipped, you whimpered and scrambled backwards, retreating into the farthest corner of the room.

You curled into yourself, knees drawn to your chest, hands shaking as they flew over your head, “I… I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Leah’s heart clenched.

“Hey,” She crouched down in front of you, slow and careful. She knew better than to move quickly, knew that right now, any wrong step could send you further into yourself, “It’s okay. You’re alright. Lucky I came in here just in time, eh?” She asked in a gentle tone of voice.

But the moment that Leah lowered herself, you let out an ear-piercing scream, raw and filled with something that Leah could only describe as terror.

Leah winced at the sheer volume, barely processing the frantic footsteps pounding up the stairs before Jordan’s panicked voice rang out, “Le?! What’s going on?!”

“Easy, Jord,” Leah called back, keeping her focus on you.

Jordan appeared in the doorway, her face tight with concern, “Are you alright?”

Leah didn’t move, she didn’t break her gaze from you, “I’m fine. Monkey is… she just needs a minute. It’s fine, Jord. Just go back downstairs. I can handle it.”

Jordan hesitated, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” Leah’s voice was steady, controlled, “Why don’t you start on dinner? We’ll be down soon.”

Jordan still didn’t look convinced, but after a long pause, she relented, “Okay. Just.. call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Leah murmured in agreement, turning to face her girlfriend, “Pop the nuggets and smiley faces in and we will be down in a bit, yeah?”

Once Jordan disappeared, Leah turned back to you–still curled up in the corner, still trembling.

Leah exhaled slowly, making herself as non-threatening as possible, “It’s okay, my girl. I know you’re scared. You’re safe here. I promise.”

She didn’t reach for you. She just stayed there, patient and waiting.

Because she wasn’t going anywhere.

And neither were you.

Leah lowered herself onto the floor, careful and deliberate, but not too close. Just near enough that you could feel her presence without it overwhelming you. She sat cross-legged, hands resting loosely on her knees, making no move to touch you or close the space between you.

You stayed where you were–huddled in the farthest corner, knees drawn to your chest, eyes flitting between her and the door like a trapped animal searching for an escape.

Leah didn’t push. She didn’t call your name again or try to coax you out of your fear. She just sat. Quiet. Waiting.

Minutes passed, stretching endlessly, the only sounds in the room were your shaky breaths and the faint creak of the house settling.

Your fingers twitched against the fabric of your sleeves, fists clenching and unclenching. The panic hadn’t fully faded, but the longer Leah stayed–unmoving, unwavering, safe–the more the sharp edges of it dulled.

Your breathing was still too quick, too shallow, but your muscles ached from holding yourself so tight. The weight of the exhaustion pressed down on you, creeping in slowly, making it harder and harder to stay curled up so small.

You shifted–just barely. Your toes inched forward, the tiniest movement but Leah noticed. She didn’t react. Didn’t even glance up. She just kept sitting there, steady as ever, as if she had all the time in the world.

A few more seconds passed. Then another tiny shift.

Another.

And another.

You weren’t even aware of how it happened, how little by little, you edged forward, drawn in by the quiet safety of her presence.

Then, finally–hesitantly–you reached out. Your fingers ghosted over the fabric of Leah’s hoodie, barely touching, like you were testing if she was really there.

Leah still didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

She just let you come to her.

Your breathing hitched as you closed the last bit of space between you, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. But when Leah still didn’t do anything, when she just stayed solid and quiet and safe, you finally let go.

Wordlessly, you climbed into her lap.

Your body was stiff at first, curled in tight like you were bracing for something, but Leah just adjusted slightly to give you all the space you needed to settle.

And then–without a word–she wrapped her arms around you.

Soft. Steady. Warm.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t shush you or tell you it was okay. She just held you in her arms.

Leah’s hands moved in slow, absentminded strokes over your back, grounding you with nothing more than the steady rhythm of her touch.

You let out a tiny, shaky breath against her shoulder, your body slowly unwinding from its tightly coiled state.

Leah still didn’t speak. Didn’t ask for the words you couldn’t give. She just sat there, holding you, until the fear wasn’t quite so sharp.

Until the tension melted away, leaving only the quiet, unspoken comfort of her arms around you.

And for the first time since the call with Mark, you felt safe.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[lumieresdreams]

‼️ caleb is mad mad and you're facing the consequences ‼️

cw: smut drabble, smut with barely any plot, heavy on the dirty talking, degradation, clothed sex (caleb), toxic relationship (two-way), mention of spanking, very jealous and mad caleb, barely any mercy, orgasm denial

a/n: it's 4am and i have silly dirty thoughts about this man, none of this is proof-read either and i'm not editing this anymore as a funny reminder of my sleepy thoughts LMAO

you hate him, you hate him so much. he's such a pain in the ass ever since you two reunited together. you hate that he knows where you are and who you're with almost all of the time, there's barely any wiggle room. so why is it that you found yourself attempting to hookup with a cute guy from your workplace just to specifically spite caleb, then act surprised when literal hell came down upon you?

this isn't the first time and, in a sick and twisted way, it surely won't be the last either. you tell yourself that you hate the man that now bares the title colonel with every fiber of your being, yet your mind finds creative ways to be dragged back into caleb's possessive grasp instead of just asking to spend time with him.

maybe you really are fucked up in the head.

you find yourself trapped back in the colonel's lonely house, now occupied by none other than you and its owner. there's a trail of clothes and knocked over furniture that lead towards the bedroom where gasps and whines could be heart through a half open door. you put up quite the fight this time, hurling items at the man you so dearly loved growing up, yelling and screaming profanities at each other, it'd all eventually get to a boiling point and caleb finally snapped.

you were now pinned down underneath the colonel, his clothed hip pressed flush against your bare one as he growled and scolds you from above. his hands has your legs bent and pressed down into a mating press, keeping you in place with no room to escape, it's not like you had any plans to do so, although a part of you wished you did as the man above you hasn't stopped grinding into you for 2 hours straight, not letting you get that sweet, sweet release.

"you're such a fucking slut, y'know that?" caleb hissed through gritted teeth, his tone heavy with venom despite the slight shakiness to it as he pulls himself in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, each time bottoming out into your sobbing cunt that ached for friction.

"i'm gonna teach you a lesson and thus time-...." he pauses as he groans loudly above you, his eyes closing momentarily out of pleasure as he bottoms out inside you, forcing a mix of a whine and sob out of you. "this time, you will remember to fucking behave 'cause tonight, i won't stop until you're on your knees for me-"

a gasp followed by a moan would escape you as caleb pulls out halfway only to slam back inside you. hard. "fuck....!" he says under his breath, he's starting to lose patience, like hell is he gonna let you win again and walk away with a slap on the wrist, not this time.

"i'm gonna force you on your knees... use my evol to keep you on all your fours like the animal you are, you're a literal bitch in heat...!" he snarls, locking eyes with you with that unfaltering intensity in his eyes. you're disgusting. you loved this side of him.

"going after other boys behind my back, you're deousional if you think you even had the option to choose anyone else but me." this is dangerous, you're whining out half-assed apologies as you try to wriggle into a more comfortable positiin, but the colonel's grip on your legs doesn't allow it in the first place. "i'm not gonna stop until you're groveling by my feet... sobbing, begging, kissing my goddamn boots..!"

he emphasizes each and every point with a hard thrust, the friction your hungry body has been aching for being given one after another in a short burst has your eyes rolling towards the back of your head, rocking your body and making the bed creak underneath you with each movement.

"you don't.. you don't even deserve this, you don't deserve me fucking you dumb, you don't deserve my cock filling you up like this 'cause you're so goddamn ungrateful" caleb continues, one of his hands letting go of your legs, then a loud SMACK! resounds around the room and your bottom stung not a second later. fuck, he's started spanking you.

the childhoid best friend turned cold stranger slows the movement of his hips back to how it was before. you aren't getting what you want out of this interaction, not anytime soon until you've learned to only want caleb and he's got all night to do so.

[everlastingserenitys]

SWEET MESS

summ. you accidentally downed some aphrodisiacs that Luke and Kieran bought, now sylus had to deal with you for the night.

pairing sylus x f!reader cw. masturbation, handjob, gentle sylus, aphrodisiacs, mutual masturbation, fingering a/n. officially reposted all my works from the ongoing series.. more coming soon. <33

cross-posted from ao3 ;3

“Sylus? Oh.”

You stop in your tracks, as you meant to walk into the kitchen to ask Sylus for some food, instead of Sylus being there, Luke and Kieran were sitting at the counter talking with each other as they drank some drinks.

“Hey, where's Sylus?” you ask, as you make your way to the fridge.

“Uh, boss? Not sure.” Luke mutters, his fingers resting on his chin as he tries to figure out when he last saw Sylus. But you just shook your head and flung open the fridge door.

“Hm…” your eyes scan the fridge, trying to find something appetizing. You were craving for something sweet, maybe just maybe––Oh!

Perfect.

You grab the box of chocolates sitting on the bottom shelf of the fridge and open up the box without reading anything. The chocolates were tiny balls and it didn't seem bad to grab more than one…

So you grab a handful and throw them in your mouth.

But, shit. These chocolates were too good.

Handful after handful, you end up almost devouring the whole box. But before you could get one more round of chocolates the sound of Luke’s voice snapped you out of daze. The box falls from your hand and falls to the ground.

“Are you crazy?!” Luke warned, flipping you over, his eyes stare down at your chocolate stuffed mouth. You raise an eyebrow and swallow the last pieces of chocolate remaining in your mouth.

“What's wrong?” you ask, slightly concerned.

Luke glanced at Kieran and stepped away, “those chocolates…They were not something you’re supposed to eat large amounts of.”

“Huh?”

“Listen, boss asked us to buy these for you… for later i guess, but you weren't supposed to eat them now! So I think you should go to your room and we will send boss to you soon, okay?”

You look at him with a confused look and either way, still listen and head to your room.

It's not like you were hungry anymore.

-

Well, fuck.

You might as well be a little more hungry than before.

Twenty minutes had already passed and you were rocking back and forth on your bed, your body was heating up and you felt a weird tingling sensation all over you. But your fingers couldn’t control themselves anymore.

A shaky sigh left your lips and you leaned against the bed.

Where the fuck was Sylus at?

A desperate whine left your lips and you slipped a finger under your shorts. Your cold fingertips brush against your twitchy clit and you rub small circles against it.

Since when did it feel this good?

Going slowly wasn’t doing it for you anymore. You slide two fingers in your soaking cunt and you rapidly stroke yourself. You bit on the hem of your shirt as your movements on your fingers quickened, desperately seeking for release.

With the curl of your fingers, a wave of pleasure sparked through your body and a groveling moan escaped your lips when you reached climax. You pull your fingers away and stare at the mess coated on your fingers.

You needed more.

Where. Was. Syl–

Two knocks were heard from your bedroom door and you hopped off your bed, rushing towards the door to open it.

You opened the door in a swift movement and almost fainted at the sight of Sylus in front of you. Sylus looked down at you, his gaze filled with a little concern and curiosity.

He eyes down your messy outfit and walks himself in your bedroom, shutting the door behind him. When the door closed shut you look up at Sylus with teary eyes and step closer towards him.

Sylus wraps his arms around you and pulls you towards him.

“Luke told me what happened, why didn't you just read the box before eating the chocolate?” Sylus lectured. But you were too much in a horny daze to even answer that question, all you needed was him.

“I dont…please…do something?” you whine, rocking yourself against him. Sylus sighed and pulled you away from him. His large arms wrap around you and he effortlessly carries you to your bed, carefully placing you on it.

“If you were hungry you could have just called me?” Sylus coos, his fingers trailing down your thighs as he continued to look down at you with his glowy ruby eyes.

“I did! You w-werent in the kitchen..ngh”

“You have a phone for a reason sweetie, I would've picked it up if you called.” Sylus said, calmly, way too calmly. His fingers reach your twitchy soaking pussy and he slid one of his fingers in. You let out a whine and thrust yourself in his fingers.

“M-more..”

A chuckle left Sylus’ lips and he slipped another finger in you. You rock yourself against him and lift yourself so that you are sitting up, facing him. Your fingers grab onto his arms as you pull yourself closer to him.

Your fingers slide down his muscular arms and you press against his boner, slowly rubbing on it in an indescribable pattern. Sylus’ breath hitched and he pressed himself closer to you, quickening his movements in your cunt.

“Please, Sy.” you moan, sliding your finger under his shorts.

“Whatever makes you feel better.” he groaned, bucking his hips up and letting you slip his pants off. His leaking boxers were on display for you and you pulled his boxers down, letting his searing cock spring out.

Your warm fingers wrap around his cock, and you stroke slow, deliberate movements on it.

Both yours and Sylus’ moans grew louder in the room, and the sounds of both you touching each other was turning you on even more. You wrap another hand around his cock and quicken the pace on him.

“Sweetie, calm down. We have…ngh...all night.” he moaned. But when you weren't listening to him and went even faster on his cock, Sylus curled his fingers inside you and warned you again.

“Please.. 'm gonna cum!” you wailed, thrusting yourself in him one more time, and the last final thrust both you and Sylus came in sync.

“Feel better?”

No, you weren’t feeling better, in fact, that made you even more horny and…

“More, please.”

part 6 of untamed desires | sylus -> next work

[dollfacefantasy]

thinking about dr. zayne who has a fixation on your hands.

you’re pretty sure they’re his favorite part of you if the way he stares at them and handles them with such care are any indicator.

you two rarely have moments where you’re both free to relax, but when they do come up, you spend them on the couch. maybe you’re just talking, maybe you’re watching something. either way, zayne’s got your hand between his. he traces every little line on your palm. he twists and plays with your fingers like they’re some kind of toy for fidgeting. you think it’s subconscious. he doesn’t say anything about it or even look down at your hand. he just likes the touch.

whenever one of you leaves in the morning, you say goodbye at the door. he tells you he loves you, to be safe, and every other thing that’s part of your little routine. then he leans in for a kiss. and down below, his hand takes yours and gives it a nice, tight squeeze, sending you off with electricity in your arm and butterflies in your stomach.

in your bedroom at night, he loves your hands in a different nature. one of his favorite ways to start things off with you is by having you touch yourself for him. he instructs every movement while watching your fingers move according to his words. he listens to every little whimper and moan you give him as your hands rub and caress like they’re his own.

for special occasions, you give him handjobs. he barely lasts under the careful tugs of your palm. he watches your wrist swivel, the way your pretty face sits right next to your moving hand. you try talking to him a bit, but all he can get out are breathy moans of “mmm, that’s so good.”

and while he’s actually inside you? the need for more connection doesn’t dissipate. he has one set of fingers intertwined with yours at all times. you feel how his hands flex as he thrusts, how he grips you with desperation every time your pussy flutters around him.

your hands just give him something that he needs. he’d never let go if he could <33

[lovelybucky1]

I saw that you were taking requests and was wondering if you would do Logan x Reader smut in the Go Greek universe? Maybe they hook up in the supply closet in the frat house😏

not canon to the go greek storyline // go greek masterlist // tw: alcohol consumption, sexual content, 18+ minors dni

Logan is the grumpy to your sunshine. He doesn’t say much, and when he does, it’s usually some jab at the other guys. He is always nice to you, though. It’s small gestures like carrying your bags, or making you a cup of coffee. It’s a kindness you’ve never seen him give anyone else and it makes you feel special.

It always catches you off guard when Logan outright flirts with you. He’s not really an affectionate kind of guy, but after a few drinks, he gets more bold.

He’s been complimenting you all night and has been inching closer as he listens to you talk about your classes and projects. His leg, thick and muscular, is pressed against yours in a way than could not possibly be accidental.

You don’t exactly play into it but you certainly don’t reject him. You’re not used to being flirted with, not like this. When Sam and Bucky do it, they’re mostly teasing. Sure, they may jump at the chance to be with you, but that’s not what they’re expecting; they’re just having some fun. Logan, however, isn’t like that. This is genuine and if the look in his eyes is anything to go off of, he wants you.

You can’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the way they flutter every time he says your name. Logan’s a good sport and would understand if you didn’t want to go further than flirting. That would be the smart thing to do.

“Sweetheart,” he says, placing his hand on your thigh. “Why don’t we take this upstairs?”

You hesitate for a moment, pondering if you really want to complicate things further by sleeping with Logan. You worry about what the other guys would think, if they’d be jealous, but they’re all busy playing beer pong, passed out on the couch, or entertaining women of their own. You can try something new for once, be a little adventurous.

“I’d love to,” you smile.

Your hard seltzer and his beer are left abandoned on the kitchen counter as you follow him upstairs. Just as Logan is about to open his bedroom door, he pauses. Through the door, you can hear high-pitched moans and a deeper voice cursing.

“Fuckin’ Wade,” Logan huffs.

“I wonder if it’s that girl from Kappa Alpha,” you say.

“Knowin’ him it could be the old woman from across the street.” Poor Mrs. Lee.

Logan looks around in the hallway, then grabs your wrist and pulls you along with him. He pulls you into the supply closet near the stairs and once inside, he slams the door and presses you against it. It’s dark, but some light filters in from the cracks in the door that allow you to see the man in front of you.

“Not really what I had in mind,” he says, his voice sounding loud in such a small space.

“I don’t care where we are,” you say. Maybe that makes you sound a bit desperate, but how could you not be? His hands are on your hips, squeezing gently. Just the pressure alone is enough to make your head spin, but he’s also rubbing circles on the exposed skin above the waistband of your pants.

“Didn’t take you for a down and dirty kind of girl.” Logan has never teased you before, not the way the other guys do. Maybe he’s only doing it now because he knows he has you wrapped around his finger.

“I don’t know what kind of girl I am,” you say. It sounds like a line but you’re being truthful. You don’t have enough experience with this kind of thing to know.

“Let’s find out,” Logan says.

He leans in, his left hand holding firmly on your hip while the other one slides up your side and to your jaw. He holds it, tilting your head up before he touches his lips to yours.

You’re thankful the door behind you is solid, because the kiss soon turns heated and Logan is pressing against you. He leads the kiss, which you have no problems with. His hands explore your body while yours hold still on his broad shoulders.

Logan’s lips migrate down your neck where he can kiss, suck, and bite at your sensitive skin. You hope he doesn’t leave any marks, because walking out of a supply closet at a frat party covered in hickies is far too cliche for you. Not to mention humiliating.

“You make the cutest fuckin’ sounds,” he mumbles against your skin. You had no idea you were even making noise, and you hope you aren’t being too loud.

His praise gives you a confidence boost. You slide your hand from his shoulders to his belt and grab ahold of it. Logan pulls away to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“That what you want?” he asks as your fingers toy with his buckle.

“I wanna try,” you say.

That seems to clue him in on just how inexperienced you are. He leans his head back and mutters a quiet fuck.

“We’ll go slow, okay?”

He puts his hands overtop of yours on his waist and moves them aside. He undoes his belt for you and pushes his jeans and boxers down his thighs.

You kneel down so you’re level with his cock that hangs half-hard in front of your face. You look up at him and wait for instruction. Sure, you’ve done this before but never a guy with as much experience as Logan.

He takes the hint and grabs ahold of his dick, stroking it a few times before tapping the tip against your lips.

“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he urges. You do as he says and he feeds his cock into your open mouth. Almost half of it fits easily, but you have to work to get your mouth around the rest. “Relax your throat and breathe through your nose. That’s it, good girl.”

This may be the most you’ve ever heard Logan talk. He’s trying to keep his voice quiet, but if anyone walked by, they would be able to hear you. You’re not sure you’d be able to handle the teasing that would come from Bucky hearing you choke.

Logan helps you take the rest of him, then guides your head to work up a good rhythm. He doesn’t push, but he uses his hold on you to direct. It’s nice having him take control like this. You don’t have to worry about if you’re doing a good job because he’s taking care of everything.

You start to move faster and each time his tip hits the back of your throat, tears spring to your eyes and you have to take a deep breath through your nose to keep from gagging. Thankfully, Logan announces that he’s close and he asks where you want him to finish.

You don’t want him to stain your clothes or make a mess of your face, so you point to your mouth. It’s the easiest that way, and you know guys like that the best. It only takes a few more strokes for Logan to begin shooting hot ropes of cum into your mouth.

You instinctively swallow it, not allowing yourself to hold the taste in your mouth. He rides out his orgasm and once he’s finished, he pulls out.

“I can return the favor, but…” he looks around at the tight space. There was enough room for him to stand up straight and you to kneel at his feet, but Logan is a lot bigger than you are.

“It’s okay,” you say. “Another time.”

Logan nods and pulls up his pants, tucking himself back in. He helps you to your feet and kisses you gently, not caring that you just had his cum in your mouth.

“Thanks for that, sweetheart,” he says.

“I’ll see you downstairs?” you ask as you straighten out your appearance. He nods and you turn to leave the closet, poking your head out to check for anyone before stepping out.

You make your way downstairs and find some of the guys in the living room. They all greet you cheerfully and ask what you’ve been up to. You say you were with Logan, but you spare them the details. You stay to chat for a bit, but you excuse yourself and head back to the kitchen.

Matt follows you and opens the fridge to pull out a beer.

“So, Logan, huh?” he asks. You furrow your brows.

“What do you mean?”

He chuckles a bit. “You want a drink?”

You hesitantly agree and he grabs you a bottle of water from the fridge. He walks over to you and you attempt to take it out of his hand, but he holds firmly onto it.

“You were a little loud up there, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk. Your face falls and you mentally scramble to think of a way to preserve your dignity. “Don’t worry, no one else heard. But if you ever want to get some more practice in, you know where to find me.”

He finally lets go of the bottle and walks off, leaving you to sit with that embarrassment.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Heyy! I just read the Moon Knight sleeping hcs and had a thought, I hope you could write a small drabble or something.

You said Marc usually falls asleep naked when it's hot, so what if one day there's a heatwave or something and he wants to sleep but he doesn't know how the reader will react to it once dhe comes over because he hasn't done it in front of her yet and they've been dating for a couple of months and poor baby starts overthinking. Lots of overthinking and comfort please. 🤍🤍🤍

Aww this is so cute! Thank you so much for requesting!

Bare

Marc Spector x gn!Reader • Rating: mature pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Marc's not sure if he should sleep how he wants.

Warnings: Fluff, nakedness, sweat, overthinking, overuse of italics, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 744

“You okay?” You give Marc a smile as you watch him from the doorway, he’s been standing in the middle of the room for a good fifteen seconds. Just staring at the bed. His hand on the waistband of his jogging bottoms. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he gives you a weak smile and shakes his head, “just… thinking.” 

You nod, deciding not to push it. It’s too hot and you're exhausted from the day. 

Your bedroom window is as open as it can be, but the London nighttime air isn’t half as cool as you hoped it would be. 

Screw the UK and its general lack of air conditioning. And building houses to keep the heat in. (Even though you’d be thankful in the winter.) 

You slip past him and get into bed. He’s slept over before, plenty of times in fact. Maybe he was thinking about whether to get under the covers or not. 

You can’t help it as the stress from the day quickly overtakes you and you fall asleep almost the second your head hits the pillow. 

Marc stays where he is. Thinking. 

Usually, when it was this hot, he slept naked. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t seen him without clothes, you’d both seen each other bare plenty of times. It was just that those times usually involved more physical activities, and normally you were both taking each other's clothes off. So there was clear consent really, expectation of nakedness. I’m taking your clothes off so I know you’re naked. This was more… unexpected? 

He bites his bottom lip. Why was this even an issue? He should have just asked, “Hey, can I sleep naked in your bed?” That was what he wanted to check, it was your bed, so he should ask, shouldn’t just assume. But now…

He glances at your peaceful sleeping face. It would be unfair to wake you just for that. 

He breathes in deeply and turns off the side lamp before getting in bed. 

Marc tries his absolute hardest to go to sleep, he really does. But his thin jogging bottoms feel like they are made of thermal insulation. 

He shrugs them off, throwing them gently to the floor before he lays back down. Sweat beads on his chest. He shifts, moving onto his side. Then his stomach. Then his other side. Finally, back to his back. 

This was fucking ridiculous. He stares at his phone. Forty eight minutes had passed.

“Shit.” He grumbles and pulls off his boxers. He  throws them to the floor to join his other clothing. You wouldn’t care, why would you care? He was being stupid. 

And finally he drifted off. 

.

The sun was in your eyes through the crack in the curtains you’d left open to get as much fresh air in as you could. You squint at the window and grumble before you turn over and flop your arm over Marc as you get comfy again. 

Your fingers skim his hip and… oh. That was a pleasant surprise. As you shifted closer his bare ass greeted you. 

You lift your head a fraction to enjoy the view and Marc tenses under your touch.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out.

“What?” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he goes to grope around on the floor for his boxers aimlessly. “I should have asked-”

You frown, thoroughly confused. “Should have asked what?” 

“If I could sleep naked, I thought, didn’t think- I was tired, and hot and-”

“What are you talking about?” You prop yourself up a little so you can look at him, your eyes still blurry with sleep. 

“Me. Being naked.” He says softly, not looking at you. 

“Oh. Why are you sorry about that?” 

“Because,” he swallows. “I didn’t ask if I could?” 

You pause to think, trying to add two and two together to get the seven Marc was obviously on. “Why do you need to ask?” 

“It’s… your bed?” His voice is quiet, timid almost.

“So? It’s your bed too?” You lay back down and yawn, sleep beckoning you again. “I like you being naked anyway.” 

Marc relaxes and smiles ever so slightly. “You do?” 

“Yeah, you can walk around the flat naked if you want.” You yawn again, your voice already thick with sleep. You snuggle up to him and kiss his shoulder before you start to drift off. 

Marc beams, the knot of anxiety dissolving. Of course, you didn’t mind. “I love you.” He whispers before he closes his eyes. 

Thank you for reading!

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[paladin--strait]

Prompt 15 with Marino?

guys? - john marino

the floorboards creak beneath me as i silently walk back to my bedroom, some lights in the lake house are still on, but those people won't raise any questions as to where i'm coming from. my room is right across from jack and luke's, so my steps have to be even quieter.

just as i'm opening my door, i hear a door open behind me. i take a deep breath, hearing jacks voice behind me. "hey, why are you up?" he asks and i look back, his brows furrowed and his head tilted in confusion.

"just went to get some water, don't worry." i say with a lighthearted laugh.

"then where is it?" he asks, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe, cocking a brow. luke comes in view behind him, wondering what's going on.

"i didn't bring it with me, i just got some and put my cup in the sink." i save it, taking a deep breath. "you act like i'm having some secret relationship and i'm sneaking back in."

except that really is what's happening. john's been sneaking me in his room for the past four nights, pulling me into his arms under his comforter, the bed warm and covered in his scent. sometimes he'll let me sleep, and sometimes we just talk quietly.

"okay, i believe you." jack says, telling me goodnight and retreating back into his room.

-

luckily, that hasn't happened again for a few days, though i have been more careful now. tomorrow is john's last day at the lake house before he leaves to go home and see his parents, so obviously i'm gonna spend a little more time with him tonight than usual.

i'm not sure how, but john and i have managed to keep our relationship a secret for five months, the sneaky facetimes and text messages going right over my brothers heads.

although, i did try to break the news to them once. i told them i had a boyfriend, but not who it was. obviously, they freaked out. so a few days later, i told them we broke off our relationship and we're no longer seeing each other. i hate lying to jack and luke, but john and i just don't know how to tell them.

anyways, i'm laying in john's bed now, his arm around my shoulder as i'm tucked into his side. there's a movie playing on the television, the volume set low so we can talk. his hand plays with my hair, twisting it and wrapping it around his fingers.

i feel his chest rise and fall as he sighs, his voice cutting through the quiet room. "i can't believe i'm leaving tomorrow...i'm gonna miss you, more than you'll ever know."

i smile softly, my eyes dropping with the weight of tiredness. "i'm gonna miss you too. i'm just glad we've been able to spend some kind of alone time while we were both here, even it was just for a few hours."

he chuckles at my words, leaning in to peck my forehead. "me too. i'm gonna facetime you and call you and text you everyday, you know? you better let me know when the guys go to sleep so we can call."

a nod comes from me, along with a yawn. "i will, don't worry."

"you should get some sleep, i'll wake you up later." john whispers, his soft voice almost instantly putting me to sleep as he tells me some stories about the team back in utah.

all is well as i sleep in his arms, until his eyes soon begin to droop as well. against his own will, john too, begins to fall asleep.

-

i wake up to the sun shining down on me, and a feeling of being watched. there's arms wrapped around me tight, and a face tucked in my neck. i gasp softly, john fell asleep. it's morning, all the guys will see me leave. maybe i can jump out the window?

i'm torn out of my thoughts of escape to banging on the door. i jump, hitting john to wake him up. "johnny! have you seen y/n? also, your ride is here!" it's luke, and i shake john more, his deep sleep not helping in the moment. "i'm coming in since you're not responding!"

my head whips to the opening door, luke's eyes widening in shock. "uhm, guys? what's going on here?" he asks, his arms crossing and brow cocking, and i can't help but think about how much he looks like jack right there.

"john...john...!" i whisper, smacking his arm. he finally wakes, sitting up slowly. he looks down at me, his curls a mess, his eyes red and droopy.

"what? why are you still here...?" he asks, yawning. i smack him again, my head gesturing to luke and now jack who are standing at the door. "oh, hey guys..." he laughs awkwardly, a head coming up to rub the back of his neck.

the room is silent for a moment, the tense awkwardness sensed so far into the lake house that it draws more people, ethan edwards and jamie drysdale making their way up to see what's going on. ethan's eyes widen when he sees us, and he backs away, pulling jamie with him.

jack pushes luke further into the room and shuts the door behind him. "you're lucky we like you." jack says, crossing his arms like luke. speaking of luke, he looks over at jack with both brows raised. "well, at least i like you." jack says, changing his mind from luke's expression.

"listen, i don't mind that you two are together. i had a feeling you two had something going on when i saw how excited you two were to see each other. but what i am upset about, is that you two hid it from us." luke says, breaking the silence.

i sigh, looking over at john then back at them. "i'm sorry. we were just worried about how you guys would react. especially you, luke. since john is your best friend, i was nervous you'd be upset with him."

"i'm sorry too, i feel the same way as y/n and i can assure you all i will take such good care of her." he says, grabbing my hand and holding it. "to be honest, you two can both hate me, but i'd still love y/n."

my eyes widen a bit, my head slowly turning to loom at him. "you love me...?" i whisper, my voice and expression full of surprise.

he nods with a smile, looking into my eyes. "i've loved you since the day i met you. you're kind and fun, always looking out for others and you're beautiful...you're just, you. and nobody could ever take your place." he looks back over at luke and jack, "so if you two want to hate me, then hate me. but you can't take me away from her."

john's voice is stern, standing his ground. jack and luke look at each other, like they're silently communicating with each other. jack nods, and luke nods too.

"okay, we're fine with you two being together. but absolutely no more secrets, got it?" jack states, wagging a finger at us. john and i nod, happy smiles on our faces. "also, john your uber has been here for like twenty minutes and i'm pretty sure he's left by now."

john sighs, "well, i'll have to call my mom and let her know i'll be a few more days."

"why? you can call another uber, you know?" i laugh, rubbing his knuckles with my thumb.

"i know, but i want to spend more time with you now that we're not a secret anymore. we finally don't have to hide."

"oh yuck!" luke says, leaving the room. jack follows, his loud laugh echoing down the hall. john and i laugh too, looking at each other.

it's quiet for a few minutes, then i break the silence. "john?"

"hmm?"

"i love you too." i smile, looking over at him instead of down at the blanket. he smiles, pecking my lips and pulling me in for a hug. we lay back on the bed, his arms wrapping around me.

the next few days are so much happier, less awkward and less stressful. everyone seems to have perked up since we finally got caught by jack and luke, with trevor claiming that he already knew. (he didn't.) i end up going back with john to his parents house, getting to meet his family and enjoy being with them too.

our lives have been so much better since we were finally able to tell people, our instagram posts and stories full of each other. it's a few weeks deep into the season, the devils and UHC are finally playing. the jersey i'm wearing is a mash of all of their numbers. one of the utah wags was able to make me one, excited for the mash up of colors and fan bases.

the diamond ring rests on my finger, shining under the arena lights. since i moved to utah with john, we've only grown closer in our time together. he proposed to me a few weeks ago, after winning a game and getting announced first star for his two goals.

john is the best fiancé i could ever ask for. he always takes care of me and our pets, always buying us gifts. my brothers are supportive of course, calling every day to make sure he was treating me right.

i couldn't ask for a better life. my fiancé is amazing, my brothers are awesome, the utah wags are so kind, and my mental health is at an all time high. all because of john.