#on one hand I want her to be around the same age as the other MCI kids something between 8 to 10 years old

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review by @zyafics

im currently writing rn and i love gigi's dialogues the most, so i'm back here to read and get inspired from her amazing words (long annotations below) ⬇️

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened.

pussy

Self-sufficiency had long been your norm. Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age. 

my poor baby who had to take care of herself for too long (love love this sentence)

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of his presence inside you—

the butterflies i felt from reading this line

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.” "You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

i love their banters fr

“At least they’re not murder—”

one thing i love is how this fic is similar but deviates from the original canon plot and i love that you managed to capture the same essence!

"What are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowing in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.“Helping you.”

when the bare minimum got me kicking my feet 🤭

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener.

this is such a standout line when i first read it cause i love how u captured the atmosphere of cheap motels (LOL)

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh.

CAUSE HE DIDN'T WANT TO LET GO OUT HER HAND 🫠

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the underlying edge of irritation. "But let's save up the pity for later. I'm more interested in asking you why the fuck you got just one room with one bed."

the one BED TROPE YES

In the next second, you were gasping for breath as Rafe's hands closed around your throat in a vice-like grip. Shock and fear surged through you, your body instinctively fighting against his hold as you struggled to break free.

one thing i love more than the one bed trope is the nightmare one that follows it 😈

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

MY POOR BABY OHMYGOD

But then, instinct kicked in, and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could. Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you like a lifeline. 

i love love LOVE how you write intimate moments like this

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft sound of your heartbeat. "Yeah, I think so."

his voice so soft, just above her heartbeat? shut up your writing EATS

It served as another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep. And it terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence. 

YOUR CHARACTERIZATION OF RAFE I LOVE SO SO SO MUCH

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that." You felt like there was more to the story.

yeah 🤨

Rafe's jaw clenched, his expression turning steely as he locked onto your gaze, "I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Maybank," he retorted, his tone laced with irritation. "I'm protecting myself. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you're the one who needs to reevaluate things."

damn shit, because he wants to be ur bf 😉

“No, I fucking won’t. You’re the one who punched me on that ship, your guards were the ones who shot me, your father is the one who wants me dead,” your lips quirked in a small, humorless smile, “And you want to talk about protecting yourself?”

me, reader, "damn that's so long ago why won't u forget about it" me, irl, *i've held year-long grudges against people for stealing my pencils*

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. "You have no idea what it's like. To carry that weight, to know that everything you touch turns to shit.” His voice was probing, his eyes scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you want to run out the door.  “And you—Shit, you’re just searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as everyone’s made me out to be. Newsflash, I am."

he's so insecure 🥺

“Right,” You swallow, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

DAMNNNN

Without another word, he closed the distance between you in a single fluid motion, his movements graceful yet filled with an underlying urgency. His hands found their way to your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His touch wavered between tenderness and roughness, with soft, gentle kisses blending seamlessly with fervent, desperate ones, as if he was unable to choose between cherishing the moment and giving in to his desires completely. You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It felt different from the first time you kissed. Less violent, less primal, more…intimate. It was as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words, everything he had been keeping bottled up inside, and you welcomed it. 

INTIMATE INTIMATE INTIMATEEE 💘

“You can’t kiss me to avoid questions, Rafe.”"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

reminds me of that specific scene in 10 things i hate about you

"I know," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. "But for now, can we just...be?"You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, "For now, we can just...be."

my poor babies i love; they r unfortunately stuck in a situationship 😭

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - two

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader x sorta canon!rafe; doesn't exactly follow the real plot line but...it does?; am i turning this into a series? maybe.

word count: 6k...

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened. It couldn't have happened; it must have been a figment of your overactive imagination. 

There was no way in hell you would have let Rafe Cameron have you on top of a dining table, living up to the derogatory "dirty pogue" nickname. You were better than that. You knew better.

Despite that...You found it impossible to look at him for the next forty-eight hours. In fact, facing yourself in the mirror became a challenge, so much so that you refused his help in tending to your wound. Self-sufficiency had long been your norm. Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age. 

Initially, there was an undeniable tension between you and Rafe.

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of his presence inside you—but there were bigger things at stake, and so, you pushed the nagging feelings aside, focusing on one thing only: getting out.

You and Rafe didn’t mix, oil and water, two stubborn bastards with heavy emotional baggage. Sometimes it was tricky to work together, but other days, it flowed so easily it gave you whiplash. In the time that followed, you both worked tirelessly to plan your getaway, meticulously plotting every detail to ensure success and not another round of bullets. Your job was to sit around and act innocent, while Rafe had to ensure you had a way out and enough money to pay someone off. Avoiding Ward was easy enough since he spent most of his time in Guadalupe.

Rafe scoffed; his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the small, weather-beaten boat skeptically. "I'm not getting into that piece of shit. No fucking way," he declared, voice dripping with disdain.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the knot of frustration building in your chest. He was so fucking insufferable. 

"Oh, so you've got a better suggestion?" you shot back in defiance.

He shot you a glare, but you can't help but notice how his eyes caught the shimmer of the clear night sky, "I do," he retorted, gesturing towards a sleek motorboat moored nearby. "That one looks like it might get us somewhere without sinking halfway."

You followed his gaze, your entire face scrunching up as you took in the sight of the motorboat. It was certainly more modern and well-maintained than the rusty old dinghy you had been eyeing, but something about it made you uneasy.

"Hell no?” you hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. "It seems a bit...too much. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves."

Rafe rolled his eyes, his frustration evident in the way he tugged at his hair, "C'mon,” he scoffed, his voice tinged with impatience. "This isn't the time to be playing it safe. We need to get out of here, and that boat is our best chance."

You bit your lip, torn between your instincts and Rafe's seemingly reckless impulsiveness. On one hand, you didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but on the other hand, you knew that time was running out and you needed to act fast. Ward was coming back to the island soon enough and if he dragged Rafe away with him…you were a lost cause. There was no third chance. 

“What about the guards?” your voice dropped to a whisper as you glanced around nervously. The last thing you needed was someone overhearing your plans.

Rafe’s stare flickered with a hint of irritation,  “I’ve got it covered,” Your skepticism must have shown on your face because he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I’m not about to let us get caught. I’ve been dealing with Ward’s security my whole life. I know how to slip past them.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, “Fine. But if this goes south, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.”

"You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

"Keep your voice down."

The tension between you two was palpable, but there was no time to dwell on it. You both turned your attention back to the task at hand. The sleek motorboat gleamed in the fading light, its potential for escape glinting like a promise of freedom. As night fell, you both moved with practiced stealth, with a reluctant nod, you followed him towards the sleek motorboat. The docks were eerily quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the waves against the hulls of the boats. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept a lookout for any sign of the guards. Rafe moved with the confidence that you envied, quickly untying the boat and preparing it for departure. You glanced around nervously, half-expecting to hear the shout of a guard at any moment. Every shadow seemed like a threat, every noise a potential alarm.

“Hurry up,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder.

“Calm the fuck down,” Rafe muttered, though he did quicken his pace. “We’re almost ready.”

Your anxiety spiked. This was it. No turning back. Rafe started the engine, the low rumble sounding like a roar in the silent night. You winced, half-expecting the noise to draw attention. The sound was louder than you expected. But luck seemed to be on your side.

“C’mon,” He whispered urgently, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble, “Get in.”

You climbed aboard, your hands shaking as you settled into the seat. 

“Go!” you urged, glancing back at the docks nervously. Rafe didn’t need to be told twice. The boat lurched forward, cutting through the water with surprising speed. As the island receded into the distance, you felt a surge of hope. For the first time in months, freedom was within reach.

As Rafe guided the boat out of the harbor, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

“See? I told you it’d be fine,” Rafe said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Just keep your eyes on the water,” you retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He adjusted the throttle, the boat picking up speed. "Relax, Maybank. Enjoy the ride," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You shot him a withering look, gripping the edge of your seat. "Just focus on getting us out of here in one piece.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Frankly, I don’t care what you think you know. Just keep us moving," you snapped back, your voice tense.

Rafe's hands tightened on the wheel, but he said nothing. The silence between you was a common thing, the hum of the engine the only sound cutting through the night. Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. The coastline was a distant memory now, the open water vast and foreboding. You kept scanning the horizon, every wave a potential threat.

"You're acting like we're about to get ambushed by pirates," Rafe finally said, his tone lighter but edged with irritation.

"Better safe than sorry," you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Rafe let out a sharp laugh. "Always so paranoid. That's what gets you in trouble."

You whipped your head around to glare at him. “No, your family got me in trouble. In case you’ve forgotten.”

His face hardened, the easy bravado slipping for just a moment, “Huh, right. ‘Cause your friends are such fucking saints”

“At least they’re not murder—”

You cut yourself off before you said it, but the damage was done anyways. Rafe's jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching as he ground his teeth, lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. He didn't respond verbally, but the anger radiating from him was answer enough to you.

He turned his attention back to the horizon, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles were white. The boat's engine roared louder as he increased the speed, the vessel slicing through the water with renewed urgency. The waves splashed higher, and the night air became colder, but Rafe didn't seem to notice. His focus was absolute. Yeah, he was pissed.

What could you possibly say? Apologize? There was no way in hell you were apologizing to him. Not after everything his father had put you through. If anyone owed an apology, it was him. And you knew you'd see the world end before Rafe Cameron ever uttered those words. It was infuriating. There he was taking a step forward, leaving his loyalty to Ward behind and he still refused to show remorse if not between four walls with you. Never out in the open, never too loud.

The sound of the engine became a steady thrum, drowning out any other noise, as if creating a barrier between you and the rest of the world. You sat in silence, each lost in your thoughts, the weight of the past pressing down on you like a lead blanket. It was done. And although you wished things had been differently, they weren’t. 

Despite the chill in the air, sweat prickled at the back of your neck, tension coiling in your muscles. The night stretched on, like a never-ending path.

After what felt like an eternity, a sliver of light appeared on the horizon, signaling the approach of dawn. You breathed a sigh of relief, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. The worst was over, for now at least.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, “We’re almost there. Keep an eye out for any patrol boats," he instructed, his voice curt and businesslike. He was all focus still, facade slipping away to reveal that calculating side that had always unnerved you. 

You nodded, scanning the waters diligently. The further you went, the more the reality of your situation sank in. You were out there, in the middle of nowhere, relying on a Cameron to get you to safety. The irony was almost laughable.

“Where are we heading?" you asked, breaking the silence. Your voice was softer, the edge of anger dulled by exhaustion.

Rafe glanced at you, his expression unreadable. "We'll head south, find somewhere to lay low for a while. I've got contacts who owe me favors."

“Uh? We’re not going back to The Outer Banks?”

He shook his head, attention fixed on the horizon. “No. Not unless you want to get killed.”

The Outer Banks, once your home, now felt like a trap waiting to snap shut. You should’ve figured Ward would send someone after you the minute he figured you were gone. A loose end. Shills ran down your body as you remembered your close encounter with death. 

"Your contacts won’t sell us out?"

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. "They know better than to cross me. Criminal, remember?”

You sighed, ready to jump into the water if it meant a little space from the unbearable atmosphere. Despite everything, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt that twisted in your gut. 

“You know what I meant, Rafe.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Listen,” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but you pressed on, determined to break through the wall of resentment that had formed between you, “I don’t care, okay? Not right now. What matters is that you’re here, not with him.”

Rafe's face softened slightly; the hard edges of his demeanor were momentarily blunted by your words. He looked away, his jaw working as if he were chewing over something in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued than before.

“If you say so.”

As you drew nearer to the shore, details of the island began to come into focus. Lush greenery blanketed the landscape, punctuated by towering palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was oddly like the place you’d been stuck in for months, but this time, there was no sense of dread in you. The boat slowed as Rafe expertly maneuvered it into a small cove, sheltered from prying threats by rocky outcrops and overhanging foliage. With a soft thud, the vessel came to a stop, the engine sputtering into silence.

Once he was done, he stepped onto the water, knees deep as the sandy shore still lay a little ahead.  You blinked in confusion as he turned to you, his arms open wide in a gesture that left you momentarily perplexed. The water laps gently against the sides of the boat, its surface reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowing in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.

“Helping you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his simple gesture of assistance. It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, a faint blush tinged your cheeks at your slowness. In all fairness, you weren’t used to this side of Rafe. You’d only seen it a few times and it was…something else entirely.

“Right.”

As Rafe's hand brushed against your waist while helping you out of the boat, your skin prickled in goosebumps, despite your efforts to remain composed. You quickly brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to nerves from the situation. With a grateful nod, you stepped onto the sandy shore, feeling the warm grains shift beneath your feet. The island stretched out before you, its landscape dotted with lush vegetation and towering trees. It was larger than you had anticipated, much bigger than Ward’s private hell.

"We should find a place to sleep,” you said, turning to Rafe as you scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization.

He nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours as he surveyed the landscape. "Let's head towards the center of the island. There should be some motels.”

With a shared nod, you set off along the sandy shore, the waves crashing against the beach providing a rhythmic backdrop to your footsteps. The warm, humid air carried the scent of salt and seaweed, adding to the coastal ambiance. As you walked, an uneasy feeling crept over you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling, maybe it was just the paranoia that had become like second nature to you over the past year.

After a while, you noticed a winding path leading into the dense foliage of the island's interior. Without a word, you and Rafe followed it, venturing deeper into the heart of the island. The sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, you emerged into a clearing. Before you stood a beat up motel, its faded paint and weather-beaten facade blending seamlessly into the surrounding landscape.

"This should do," you said, nodding towards the building, "I guess."

“Yeah. Good for a night or two, my contact won’t be here till then.”

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. Rafe followed closely behind you, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the dimly lit room. You approached the front desk, where a bored-looking clerk sat slouched behind the counter, flipping through a magazine with half-hearted interest.

"Hi there," Rafe said, flashing a charming smile as he leaned casually against the counter. "My wife and I are looking for a room for the night."

His what? Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly masked your reaction, playing along with his impromptu act. It was obvious it wasn't the first time Rafe had pulled a stunt like this, and you had to admit, he had a knack for getting what he wanted. To pretend and lie his way out.

The clerk glanced up from his magazine, peeking over the two of you with mild curiosity. "Sure thing," he said, his tone disinterested. "How many nights?"

"One for now," Rafe replied smoothly, reaching into his pocket to produce a wad of cash that you hadn't even realized he had. It was a substantial amount, more than enough to cover the cost of survival for at least two weeks. 

The clerk took the cash without comment, handing Rafe a key with a grunt of acknowledgment. "Room 203," he said, gesturing towards a staircase in the corner of the lobby. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

"Thanks," Rafe said, pocketing the key with a nod of gratitude. He turned to you; his expression unreadable. "Let’s go, baby.”

Baby?

He must've been out of his goddamn mind. His hand found yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt oddly intimate. You glanced at him, confused, but he simply squeezed your hand reassuringly, focused on the hallway ahead.

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh. That always happened with him, there was always something new you couldn’t pinpoint, but eventually got used to. The charming, panty-dropping posture was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual brooding demeanor as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a modest but comfortable-looking room.

“After you.”

You swallowed your surprise at his manners and stepped into the room, grateful for the relative privacy it offered. Rafe followed close behind, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It was sparsely furnished, with a queen-sized bed dominating the space and a small television mounted on the wall opposite. A worn armchair sat in the corner, and a narrow window offered a glimpse of the night sky outside.

"It’s a fucking dump,” Rafe said, his tone light but with an underlying note of exhaustion. "But it'll do for now."

You sank onto the edge of the bed with a weary sigh “Better than my room back home.”

“Really?”

"Don't act so surprised," you said with a wry smile, a hint of defiance creeping into your tone. "We're not exactly living in luxury over there."

You could see the realization dawn on Rafe's face as if he’d forgotten your background, “Didn’t think it was that bad for you.”

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the underlying edge of irritation. "But let's save up the pity for later. I'm more interested in asking you why the fuck you got just one room with one bed."

“I can sleep on the floor, relaaax.”

You shoot him a skeptical look, eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Seriously?" you ask, a hint of incredulity coloring your voice. "You'd actually sleep on the floor?"

He shrugged, "Why not? It's not like I haven't slept in worse places."

You didn’t want to delve into that. Instead, you only studied him for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity in his expression. To your surprise, you found none. Moments like these reminded you that he was human, and you hated it.

“Okay.”

With a weary sigh, you rose from the bed and began to remove your shoes, the events of the day finally catching up with you. Exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you down like an unbearable weight.

Rafe watched you for a moment before turning away to rummage through spare sheets and pillows, preparing a makeshift bed. There was no time to change clothes; you had left the little you had behind. As you slipped beneath the covers and closed your eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the calm before the storm. It felt too easy.

You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled onto the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible, “Don’t fucking snore, Cameron.”

Rafe chuckled softly, the rare sound carrying through the darkness of the room. "Wouldn't dream of it, Maybank.”

Hours later, you woke suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of your consciousness. For a moment, you lay there in the darkness, disoriented and trying to make sense of your surroundings. Then, you heard it—a low, murmured voice coming from the other side of the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, you saw Rafe lying on the makeshift bed on the floor, his face twisted in a grimace of pain. 

He was tossing and turning restlessly, his brow furrowed as he muttered incomprehensible words under his breath. Concern gnawed at your gut as you watched him, the sight of him trapped in a nightmare and it weirdly stirred something protective within you. Despite everything, despite the walls he put up, you didn’t like to see him in pain. It felt so familiar, and for a second you were back home, in your room, rocking yourself back and forth after waking up in hysterical screams.

Moving quietly, you slipped out of bed and crossed the room to kneel beside him. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Rafe," you whispered softly, trying to rouse him from his restless slumber. "Hey, wake up."

In the next second, you were gasping for breath as Rafe's hands closed around your throat in a vice-like grip. Shock and fear surged through you, your body instinctively fighting against his hold as you struggled to break free.

"R-Rafe!" you gasped, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper as you clawed at his hands, desperate for release. But he was lost in the grip of his nightmare, his grip unyielding as he continued to squeeze, his eyes wide and unseeing.

Panic took over you as the world blurred around the edges, darkness creeping into your vision while your lungs burned for air. Frantically, you tried to call out to him, to wake him from whatever hellish nightmare held him in its grasp, but your voice was little more than a choked rasp, "Rafe!"

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure around your throat vanished, leaving you gasping and wheezing for breath as you collapsed against the bed. Blinking away the tears that pricked at your eyes, you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, his hands shaking as he stared at you with wide, horrified eyes.

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"

His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. It was a startling sight, seeing the usually composed and confident Rafe Cameron reduced to this, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see. For a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do or say in the face of such raw emotion. But then, instinct kicked in, and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.

He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could. Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you like a lifeline. 

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”

Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft sound of your heartbeat. "Yeah, I think so."

You remained silent, holding him close as he slowly calmed down. The weight of his body against yours was oddly comforting, grounding you in the present moment and pushing back the memories of his violent outburst just moments before.

After a while, Rafe pulled away slightly, his eyes red-rimmed but clear as he looked up at you "I didn't mean to hurt—”

You reached out and brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair from his sweaty forehead, your touch gentle and reassuring. "I know," you whispered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was just a nightmare. I have them too.”

You don't know why you offer him that solace.

"You do?"

You nodded, though you knew he couldn't see it in the dim light. 

"Yeah," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "They’re pretty bad too.”

There was a brief pause, filled only with the sound of your quiet breathing and the distant hum of the night outside. Then, Rafe spoke again, his voice tinged with curiosity, "What do you dream about?"

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in Rafe's earnest expression urged you to be honest, to let down your guard just this once, “Luke. You?”

Rafe's immediate reaction was defensive, hands pulling away from your body, “Doesn't matter."

You felt stupid for asking him such a personal thing. He wasn't like you.

“Do you want to sleep in bed with me? It might be better than the floor."

"I'm fine on the floor. Don't worry about me."

But you weren't about to let him off the hook that easily. With a sigh, you reached out and gently grasped his arm, turning him to face you again, "Rafe," you said, voice borderline pleading, “Just sleep on the bed. Okay?"

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the bed, but with a reluctant sigh, he nodded, his defenses crumbling. 

"Okay, okay," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fine."

With that, he rose from the floor and cautiously joined you on the bed, his usual bravado replaced by a rare hesitancy. You shifted slightly to make room for him, and as he settled beside you, a wave of warmth and comfort washed over you, “Don’t snore.”

“Not more than you do.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of fitful sleep and restless dreams, but somehow, with Rafe by your side, it felt more bearable. When morning finally came, you awoke to find he was already gone, his side of the bed cold, no traces of his presence, and a messy scribbled note left behind on the bedside table.

"Picking up food and clothes, brb. Don't open the door."

You felt relieved that he hadn't disappeared without a word and was instead putting in the effort to rely on you. Deep down, you knew he had left as soon as he woke up, probably sprinting out of the room to avoid waking you and having any awkward confrontations about last night. It was going to be a long day, especially if he was determined to hide his emotions and weaknesses. You knew the old, bad Rafe Cameron would make a reappearance.

Pushing aside your conflicting emotions, you rose from the bed and stretched. The events of the previous night began to fade into the background as you focused on the task at hand: a shower. You stank. It had been two days since you had washed, and the thought of having gone to sleep in such a state made you want to hurl. You’d have to ask for another set of fresh sheets if you stayed another night.

As you stepped into the bathroom, the warm water cascading over your skin felt like a soothing balm, washing away the remnants of fear and tension from the previous night. The steam filled the small space, enveloping you like a comforting embrace as you took your time, allowing the water to ease the knots of stress from your muscles. You focused on the simple act of washing away the dirt and grime, letting the familiar routine ground you.

Yet, even as you lathered soap onto your skin, your mind couldn't help but drift back to Rafe, to the way he had clung to you in the darkness, his vulnerability laid bare. It served as another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep. And it terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence. 

You stepped out of the shower, the steam still lingering in the air and with a towel wrapped snugly around your body, you stepped back into the main room of the motel, feeling refreshed.

“Huh, good morning to you too.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, “Fuck!”

Rafe stood leaning against the doorway, something similar to a playful smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watched your startled reaction. His arms were laden with bags of groceries and a few articles of clothing.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you were alive in there."

You stared at him incredulously, “Turn around!”

He scoffed, walking into the room as he closed the door with his foot, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He said it so casually, it irked you. As if you two hadn’t been purposely ignoring that night ever happened. You shot him a withering glare, snatching a towel from the nearby chair and aiming at his face, full force.

"That's not the point, Cameron," you grumbled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “And you didn’t see shit. I was dressed.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, catching the towel with ease before tossing it back to you "What's the matter, Maybank? You shy all of a sudden?"

“Will you shut up?”

Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he leaned against the nearest wall. There was no point in getting into a pointless argument with him, especially not when you had more important things to worry about. Instead, you focused on drying yourself off and getting dressed in the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

As you emerged again, fully dressed and composed, Rafe had already begun unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out an assortment of food on the small table in the corner of the room. The sight of the makeshift spread made your stomach growl in anticipation, reminding you just how long it had been since your last meal.

“Hungry?” Rafe asked, glancing up from where he was arranging the food.

You nodded eagerly, making your way over to the table and helping yourself to a plate of fruit and plain toast. As you ate, Rafe filled you in on his plans for the day. It was strange, hearing Rafe talk so casually, without insults, without fear, or threats. For so long, you had seen him as nothing more than a spoiled, entitled rich kid, content to coast through life on his family’s wealth and influence. But ever since that night, you couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of respect for him. He wasn’t Ward.

When he finished speaking, you glanced up from your plate, “Sounds like a plan,” you said, your voice steady and confident. “Is your contact here, yet?”

“Nah, only tomorrow.”

“Great. So, we’re on our own for now?”

“Yeah, you and me, Pretty Maybank.”

"Hey," you began, your tone light as you tried to sound casual, "I've been curious—why do you call me 'Pretty Maybank'? Is there a story behind it?"

Rafe's gaze flicked up from where he was picking at his food, a hint of surprise in his expression. He seemed taken aback by your question as if he hadn't expected you to bring it up.

He shrugged, "I don't know," he admitted his voice casual but tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "Just seemed fitting, I guess."

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, "Fitting? How so?"

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that.”

You felt like there was more to the story.

“Oh.”

He leaned back, now sat in the old chair, “Might start calling you snoring Maybank though.”

Your lips twitched, fighting back a smile, “You’re not funny. At all.”

“Sure.”

You tilted your head, studying him intently. He looked like a completely different person from last night, “Do you feel any better?” 

“About what?” He feigned innocence, avoiding your gaze, as his fingers started tapping nervously on the table. You knew what that meant. 

You leaned forward, expression softening as you reached out to touch his hand gently. “Uh—Y'know, last night, your nightmare.”

“Don’t,” Rafe's abrupt change in demeanor catches you off guard, his walls shooting up in an instant, his tone laced with defensiveness and irritation. You straightened up, your expression hardening as you withdrew your hand, a wall of your own rising to match his. 

"It’s not important," he snapped, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "Just drop it, okay?"

You recoiled slightly at his harsh tone, the sting of his words making you want to slap him across the room. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever demons haunted him in the night, and you knew better than to push him when he was like this. But you were feeling inspired.

“Why do you always do that?” You blurted out, frustration bubbling over. You needed some sense of security around him, and every single time you were close to getting it, he backed out.

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you “Not doing anything.”

"You always shut me out," You continued, words coming out in a rush as you struggled to articulate your feelings. "Every time. You say a few words, and then bamb, gone. We’re not friends, that’s fine. But I need to know you’re someone I can rely on, okay? You can’t be doing this. One moment you’re all trusting and the other…I don’t even know what the fuck you are. You can say no nicely, you don’t need to act like a dick.”

Rafe's jaw clenched, his expression turning steely as he locked onto your gaze, "I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Maybank," he retorted, his tone laced with irritation. "I'm protecting myself. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you're the one who needs to reevaluate things."

The words stung like a slap to the face. Resentment flared within you; the color drained from your face.

"Protecting yourself?" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "From what, exactly? Me?"

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Keep your voice down.”

You shook your head, standing up from your seat. He'd said the same exact thing before you got on the boat and you were tired of being pushed aside like a toy.

“No, I fucking won’t. You’re the one who punched me on that ship, your guards were the ones who shot me, your father is the one who wants me dead,” your lips quirked in a small, humorless smile, “And you want to talk about protecting yourself?”

Rafe felt himself flinch, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly. There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy.

"You think I don't know that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I don't carry that guilt with me every single day?"

His words caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. "You have no idea what it's like. To carry that weight, to know that everything you touch turns to shit.” His voice was probing, his eyes scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you want to run out the door.  “And you—Shit, you’re just searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as everyone’s made me out to be. Newsflash, I am."

You let out a groan, the sound scraping against your throat. "I’m trying to help you! Are you stupid? Oh my god.”

"I don't need your help!" he snapped, standing taller than you, "I don't need anyone's help. I've been doing just fine on my own."

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, "Fine? Is that what you call it? Living on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, never knowing who you can trust? That's not fine, Rafe. That's not living."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly, “I don’t know how to live. I know how to serve, that’s it.” His grip on your wrist tightened as if he was trying to anchor himself, "I just...I can't."

Can't trust you, you think that's what he wants to say.

“Right,” You swallow, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

His grip loosened slightly, his hand falling away from your wrist as if burned, “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. Dirty pogue, remember?”

His breathing mirrored your own, both erratic, leaning in closer, breath hot against your skin as his nose brushed against yours, “You think I’d risk my life for you if I believed that?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“You have no idea," he breathed, “Do you?”

"I don't understand you."

"Neither do I."

Without another word, he closed the distance between you in a single fluid motion, his movements graceful yet filled with an underlying urgency. His hands found their way to your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His touch wavered between tenderness and roughness, with soft, gentle kisses blending seamlessly with fervent, desperate ones, as if he was unable to choose between cherishing the moment and giving in to his desires completely. You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It felt different from the first time you kissed. Less violent, less primal, more…intimate. It was as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words, everything he had been keeping bottled up inside, and you welcomed it. 

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You can’t kiss me to avoid questions, Rafe.”

"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

You sighed, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled jawline, "It's wrong."

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching slightly at your words. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, and retreat into his shell. But then, to your surprise, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I know," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. "But for now, can we just...be?"

You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, "For now, we can just...be."

Neither of you knew what you were doing nor the consequences to come. 

[toxicanonymity]

Hello sweet toxic! May I pretty please have an age gap fic or drabble with game version of Jackson Joel ( my favorite long and grey haired man )!

Maybe something where in the beginning Joel comes off as shy and nervous and sweet but once he and reader get together he’s got the nastiest fucking mouth she’s ever heard once he’s confident that she likes him as a love interest

parts

JOEL x f!READER | 1.8k

NOTES: Hi sweet nonnie ❤️ I watched some tlou 2 gameplay for this, so I hope it helped. idk if I met the "love" interest part but she makes her interest known. Joel is quiet, then dom / dirty

WARNINGS: 18+ Age gap (Joel 60s/reader 20s-40s), objectification of reader, slutty descriptions of men as usual. Joel calls her "honey" and one time, "little girl." she's not super naive but eager to please. Turns into beginnings of D/s dynamics, no arrangement, no consummation. Joel holds out, a little grumpy/mean. talk of being owned. degradation, praise, body/pussy inspection. kind of stream of consciousness FIWB.

He stood like a man who no one could bother. Stone cold and solid, with a face that always meant business. His clothes were rugged and worn-in like a cowboy, and the obscenity of his tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, from the back or the front.

The first time you became aware of him, it was from behind, and you did a double take. He ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his shoulder-length mane with his other hands on his hip. He was talking to Tommy, and when you heard his voice, the twang put you at ease. He sounded like a nice guy, nicer than he looked.

Your first time at the mess hall, he was kind enough to show you around. You took that as a go-ahead to follow him around anywhere. You began to watch him around Jackson. Not exactly stalking him, but you didn't have anyone else to latch onto. You learned where he went, and you happened to go there too. You were full of questions about how things worked. He always took it seriously. He was a good teacher and didn’t seem interested in anything but helping you when you wanted help.

He taught you how to ride a horse—he must not have noticed you arrived on one. Your loins buzzed as he demonstrated how to sit. His big hands on the reins and the horn were enough to make you wet, but the bulge of his jeans and the way it shifted as he started off at a slow walk. “Now look close, okay? See how I hold it?” You were looking very close.

He taught you how to shoot. Stood behind you and you never felt more safe than holding a pistol with his arms around yours, his chest against your back.

“Attagirl,” he said when you shot the glass bottle target. “Look at that,” he marveled.

To be fair, you weren’t (just) trying to get him in bed. You had lost your traveling party and you joined another one but you felt like the odd one out. You never felt like you had someone to look out for you, specifically you. You hadn’t felt the affection or encouragement of a big, capable man in a long time. Sexual or not.

But there was no denying you had a crush on him. It felt like a shock that he didn’t have women following him around in droves, until you got to know him and found out he was pretty shy. He didnt't seem to have much interest in anything but practicalities and survival. He was sweet, but never crossed a line.

Even when you started crossing some yourself. He took you on an errand one day, and he was buckling in your seatbelt, and you stopped is hand. You put his hand on your thigh, and watched his face. He kept the same, composed expression, but he couldn’t hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. He left his hand there on your thigh for a moment, then pulled away without acknowledging your move. The time it took him to move his hand made you think he liked it there. It was as though he didn’t want to take it the wrong way, was t sure your intentions. He cleared his throat, finished buckling you in, and ran his hand over his smooth, gray hair again. It was always so well-kept. You had to wonder what it’d look like first thing in the morning,

One night, at the tipsy bison, you came in by yourself in a short dress. He looked you up and down and gave you a curious look, but didn’t acknowledge you. He was talking to Tommy. Tommy craned his neck to get a look, raised his eyebrows, and gave you a nod before grinning at his brother and resuming their conversation. Tommy was hot, too, but he was taken. Otherwise you’d love to see him in nothing but that ponytail. You sat at the other end of the bar and he tried not to look at you, but Tommy gave you a wink.

Another night, you showed up to the mess hall too late for dinner, and he was on his way out. He lived close enough and offered to make you something at his place, no problem. When you came inside, you took off your boots, he took your coat, and when he finished hanging it up, he looked back to see you in a thin, low cut shirt and no bra. His mouth hung open and you gave him a flirtatious smile, as though to say, what?

“Ya’ain’t cold, are ya?” He asked with a pink hue creeping up his neck. He rubbed his beard.

“No, are you?” You asked.

“No,” he muttered, then composed himself and went to the kitchen alone.

When he came to serve dinner, your eyes were on his jeans. The heft of his manhood was always apparent, but there seemed to have been some growth in the time since you’d been at his house. You leaned over the table as you ate your meal, and he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. It was a small, round table, and there wasn’t much of anywhere else to look. He looked at his meal as he ate. You looked at his forearms.

After he finished eating, he dabbed each corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it, dabbed his beard, and cleared his throat. Meanwhile, your foot nudged his ankle. His face darkened. Your foot moved up his pants, and reached the seat of his chair. He didn’t bat your foot away, but he didn’t look at you until your foot slid right up his thigh and gently nudged the hard bulge in his jeans.

His strong chest heaved, and he didn’t make a move, but his face was reddening as he cleaned his hands with the same napkin.

He looked up as he finished wiping his hands. “Think I’m your plaything, little girl?” He harshly smacked the cloth napkin down on the table and his strong hand wrapped around your entire foot in his lap. His eyes darkened with a forward tilt of his head, and his voice took on an edge. “Or you tryin’ to be mine?”

You rubbed your lips together and looked at you fondly. He raised his eyebrow to prod for a response.

“I wanna be yours,” you answered matter-of-factly.

“You dunno what you want, girl.” He pushed your foot away, then adjusted himself. When he stood up to take the dirty dishes, the silhouette in his jeans made you throb. He did the dishes, and when he was finished, he opened a beer.

He walked through the dining area on his way to the living room. “Still here,” he muttered, but didn’t stop to talk. He sat down on the sofa and turned on the radio, not inviting you to join him.

You joined him anyway.

You sat on the sofa, not too close, with your hands folded in your lap.

“You wanna know what it means to be mine?” Joel asked.

“Yes, please,” you answered.

“It means I own you,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’m yours.”

He looked at you skeptically. "I’ain’t agreed to own ya yet,” he clarified. "Ain't just something ya do. Takes work from both'a us."

"of course," you acknowledged.

“Gotta know it’s somethin’ ya really want, and if it is, we’ll agree on some rules, safe words and shit.”

“Okay,” you agreed excitedly.

He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. “Tonight, ya can leave at any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say, okay?”

You nodded.

“But later on if ya *are* mine, you do what I say, when I say it.”

He was so serious and official about this, it sounded like he was briefing his men for some kind of operation.

“Okay” you agreed.

"so what's it mean to be mine?" He asked.

you shrugged. "You do what you want with me."

He nodded hesitantly.

“It means I take care'a ya, I protect ya, and I own your body, it ain’t yours anymore,” he looked you up and down. “It’s mine,” he stated emphatically. “*if* I decide I want it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” You asked.

He blew out air through puffed cheeks as if there was a long list.

“Ain’t got patience for brats.”

”I can be good,” you promised.

”Ain’t got patience for tears either. Too distracting out here, still gotta focus on survivin'.'

You tried not to show your worry.

”Ain’t sure ya can handle it,” he admitted

"Ain’t lookin to break in some tight little pussy while she cries and bleeds, either.” he cocked an eyebrow at you, and grabbed the massive protrusion in his jeans. “This ain’t no joke, honey. I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“I’m not a virgin,” you insisted.

“Yeah? Well ya better fit four fingers 'fore ya 'spect me to try it."

“And I promise I’ll do what you say.”

Joel sighed. “Alright, take your clothes off.." He held up his hands to acknowledge your freedom "OR leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened”

You obediently stripped.

He took sips of his beer as he watched your body emerge from your clothes. “Alright,” he nodded. “Good girl.”

Once you were bare naked, he instructed you to turn around. You did just as he asked.

“God damn,” he whispered. “Now, c’mere.”

With him manspreading on the sofa, he made you stand between his knees and bend over.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

You hesitated.

“Don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You reached back and tried to do it with one hand, one finger on each side of the lips. “Like this?”

”Both hands, darlin’. “

You spread your pussy lips for him with both hands.

”Good girl,” he said. “Wide as ya can. Wanna see your parts if they’re gonna be mine.”

You pulled wider

He let out a low whistle. “Juicy little thing. Sure would like to use it...But I’m thinkin’ it might not fit, honey.”

“Why don’t you try it?” You asked.

You turned around and tried to straddle him. He visibly tensed. You reached for the bulge in his jeans.

He snatched your wrist to stop you. “You don’t get to touch me without askin’,” he admonished you. “Notice I didn’t touch you that whole time?”

Your face heated in shame.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? ‘

“I’ll think about it.”

Your eyes were tearing up.

“Ya did good, honey, it’s okay,” he promised. He picked up your clothes and helped dress you. “Just ain’t the kinda choice ya make on the fly. You gotta think about it too, okay?”

You finished getting dressed and nodded.

“I’ll think about it too,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he answered, rose to his feet, and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then he got your coat and opened the door. As you began to leave, he stopped you, “Hey,” he lowered his voice. “You got a beautiful body. Anyone’d be lucky to own it.”

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Thank you for reading 🖤🖤

[yanmuffins]

what if the dimension of batman vs vampires p&f reader and damian accidentally stumbles upon is vampire!reader dimension? oh, and they arrive after vampire!reader is killed and turned into a vampire

the drama if p&f reader looks the exact same as vampire!reader (honestly, i see them as two different people since p&f reader is the same age as Damian and vampire!reader seems to be dick's age), since bruce looks at them and can't quite remember If vampire!reader looked like this when they were little

they all looking at p&f reader and damian being kids and wondering If vampire!reader were like that at this age, but then realizing that they don't have memories of vampire!reader like that

the despair, the anxiety, the guilt they fell

Why didn't they noticed vampire!reader sooner? why didn't they acknowledged them? why why why why

now vampire!reader it's nowhere to be found, and they could be in danger (they are), hell, for all they know they could be dead! (they kinda are)

and p&f reader and damian slowly backing away as they watch these alternate versions of their family descend into madness

let's just hope that version of the batfam finds vampire!reader fast and don't become desperate enough to end up becoming yanderes for p&f reader too

context &. context.

interesting!!!

i think vampire! reader and p&f! reader are basically just different versions of the same person. p&f! reader is gender neutral so they could be whatever gender you want them to be, while vampire! reader is female. also, you are correct, vampire! reader is older. while p&f! reader is around a year older than damian and came to the manor after him (being around 10 when they came to the manor and 14 in the fic), vampire! reader is around 21-years-old, closer to jason in age, and came to the manor somwhere between dick leaving for the teen titans and bruce adopting jason.

so, yes, p&f! reader is not only younger, but was the last one to arrive at the manor in their reality, and they had a pretty good, healthy childhood before that. not to mention bruce already had damian, so the concept of a biological child wasn't entirely alien to him, and they already had their hands full with him. the familial bonds ate tight-knit, lives are too busy, bruce already has to deal with his exceptional children and since reader is so normal, they're kinda overlooked.

and although there are similarities in the way and reasons both readers are neglected, i think it's worse with vampire! reader. she's around 7 when she comes to the manor, the circumstances around it being extremely shady (it was a scandal), and she's there before anyone except dick, whom she has shallow interactions with. from then on comes jason and the following children, and she just has to watch her father (and older brother) make time for everyone but her.

anyway, appearence-wise, p&f! reader and vampire! essentially look the same, or at least extremely similiar. but here's the thing: vampire reader's bruce does remember what his daughter looked like when she was around p&f! reader's age. and that's what makes him crumble, because vampire! reader looked abstemious and somber from a yong age, which is a far cry from her younger, alternate-dimension version.

that fact hits him the hardest, but dick notices it too. his birdie looked like a mini-adult from the day she came to the manor, and seeing p&f! reader he just wishes he could have actually bothered to be there for her. jason notices it the most because he was the one closest to reader before joker killed him, as she was the only one in the manor around his age. the others, though?

they have no idea. mostly because they weren't there when vampire! reader was a kid, but there are some memories; of her welcoming them home, little acts of affection, trying to get close to them. and they took it for granted. they started noticing her lately, yeah, but as it seems it had been a bit too late.

vampire! au damian would feel kinda jealous of the sibling bond p&f! reader and damian share, it would stir conflict between the two damians which i think could be funny amidst the angst (if you ignore that they're both kinda terrified of this batfam spiraling). all in all, i think bruce thinks of how shit it is to have a child missing so he would make sure to help send both p&f! reader and damian home safely. he's got his own kid to take care of and good lord, that's going too big of a mess for him to even worry about the two intruders in his dimension.

[violenteconomics]

remember this post i made about ace and epel (and eventually the other freshmen) pranking their upperclassmen?

yeah, so, here’s an idea for a significantly less funny prequel:

the first-years actually met their housewardens as kids, where they got very attached to one another, but absolutely none of them remember this. 

i’ve got a drabble written for riddle, ace, and deuce, but for the others, i’m completely lost, lol.

^

(warning: mentions of child abuse)

^

4-year-old ace trappola, a pint-sized brat who loses a ball in dr rosehearts’s backyard. since dr rosehearts has an extremely sour reputation around town for being impossible to be polite with, ace decides it’s not worth the patience it’ll take to knock on her door. so instead, he climbs her fence to retrieve it.

that’s when he notices the boy sitting by the windowsill, with a thousand books stacked all around him, looking very intrigued at the book in his hands. ace has never seen someone so engrossed with a book that doesn’t even have a picture on the cover, and having absolutely no filter, even at that age, he simply walks up to him and asks what he’s doing.

at first, riddle tries to shoo him away, knowing how his mother will react when she finds out there’s a random kid stepping on her perfectly-cut grass. eventually, though, ace’s childish stubbornness wins out, and riddle tells him about the history book he’s reading.

[ace is alice and riddle is alice’s sister in this scenario in case you don’t get the reference, they make me insane, okay—]

everyday, ace comes back to the windowsill at the same time (at riddle’s request, because he only has so much independent study time) just to listen to him. everyday, he says that it’s stupid, boring, and he can’t believe riddle actually reads book without pictures. everyday, he comes back to sit under riddle’s windowsill and listen to him go on about food chemistry.

but then dr rosehearts finds out.

ace doesn’t really know what happens after she showed up to their doorstep, looking down on him like he was a bug underneath her heeled feet, but next thing he knows, his dad’s telling him and brother that they’re moving to a different town. he tells ace that their house just isn’t pretty enough, but ace is young— not stupid.

(in the future, whenever ace scores high on a test, and riddle will smile and tell him he’s proud of him. every single time, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth for reasons ace can’t explain.)

^

5-year-old deuce spade only knows ace as “the kid who moved out���, but through some wicked twist of fate, he’s the next person to lose something in dr roseheart’s backyard.

deuce’s mom actually used to work for dr rosehearts as her secretary, but deuce doesn’t really like her, because she used to make his mom work long hours with little pay in return. his mom lived in dr rosehearts’s medical practice more than she actually lived in the crappy apartment they could barely afford. he was so glad when she quit.

but unfortunately, dr rosehearts’s house is right next to the park, and losing balls in her garden is unfortunately very common for most kids in the neighborhood. and since deuce really doesn’t want to talk to her, he jumps over her fence instead.

this time, riddle’s the one who notices him.

riddle’s missing ace a lot (he never found out why he stopped coming around), so to fill the hole in his heart, he invited deuce over. sheepishly, deuce walks over and lets riddle tell him about the book on agricultural trade he’s been reading. deuce doesn’t quite get it as fast as ace did, but unlike ace, he’s patient and hard-working and oh-so earnest in his attempts to understand.

of course, dr rosehearts isn’t going to help this relationship in the slightest. a few weeks later, she waits for deuce right outside the fence, before dragging him off once he’s out of riddle’s view. she mocks his attempts at trying to learn something that’s clearly above his mental capacity, for trying to be someone above his station, for knowing the rules and being too stupid to stick to them.

(“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules?”)

when she delivers deuce back to his house, his mother says nothing. when she tells him they’re moving to a bigger house on the complete other side of the queendom, deuce doesn’t argue.

(deuce couldn’t tell you why doing so bad in school frustrated him to the point of becoming a delinquent. he really couldn't.)

[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 1. Fun Times & Potty Rooms

Summary: Dearest Gentle reader, as another season starts so do the surprises. Masterlist // Next Chapter Words: 1,517 Listen to: What's Up? -by Non 4 Blondes A/N: Don't forget to leave feedback, please! -Danny

Dear Diary,

Mother insists I write even though she knows this isn't what I meant when I said I wanted to write. I'm not a self-referential lady who enjoys talking to herself; in fact, I believe it is quite silly and embarrassing. But alas, I am writing. To myself. 

Why, you ask? Well, for the first time in my five-and-twenty years of living, I'll spend some time away from home. Mother thinks it's time I do so, otherwise I'll be a perfect stranger to other royals and no one will know of me once I become Queen. When I said in jest that it was my intention, Mother didn't laugh. Which hurt plenty, because she usually laughs at the nonsense I spit. Which means she must want me to mingle and socialize. Lord have mercy on all of us.

Mother used to be just like me when she was my age, but she is so regal nowadays that you wouldn't believe she used to trip over armour and set fire to gentlemen's suits. My father fell in love with Mother because she was fire, he often jests.

Are these the things one writes in a diary? I must admit I'm doing this with half a mind since I'm also watching over my twin brothers, Richard and Rowan, and my younger sister Marie, so they do not fall off of the moving carriage. I wish I were more like Marie, graceful and charming, she's all dad. 

I'm boisterous when careless, with my head in the clouds and unable to land swiftly... How is this journey to England going to change that? A bunch of mummies live in that palace. My maid said they are the most rigid crowd I'll ever meet.

The fun awaits.

Benedict rises from his slumber tangled in two different bodies, with the sun streaming down on his face and immediately heightening the dormant headache. When he props himself up, the man on his right rolls over groaning and covering his head with a pillow, then the woman on his left curls away from him, pulling the covers closer to her bare body, baring Benedict and showing the marks all over his body. He used to find satisfaction in them, but lately, the day after his love affairs has been causing him a most unpleasant irk.

Maybe it's time to... settle down?

Benedict shrugs off the thought with a grimace. A boring aristocratic life accompanied by some sensible woman sends him reeling, it's all a bit too serious, and deep within his heart, he's always felt that he could not possibly abandon this type of life. Such a wide variety of companions to love... Why would he quit it?

No fun at all.

You step out of the carriage and your foot slips. Helped by the footman, you give him a soft thank you and offer him a kind smile, but he doesn't look up at you at any moment. You sigh, realizing this trip is bound to be exactly what you imagined.

Your siblings hurry after you and you chastise them. Even though you're around the same age, the twins are just entering their twenties, therefore it's hard to make them understand being loud and bold isn't cute anymore. Your sister holds your arm as she looks up at the castle with curiosity.

"Ample..." Marie says bemusedly.

"All that wasted space," you sigh. "They don't have toilets here, so you'll have to go in your room in a pissy bowl—"

"Y/N," your mother, Queen Amelia, stops beside you giving you a look. "Don't even think about complaining in the Queen's presence... but call it a potty if you are to be funny. Pissy bowl makes you sound five."

You and your sister giggle, which makes your mother send a conspiratory wink your way. A lovely woman. Your father, King Nicholas, comes up the steps and presses his hands to your backs, urging the two of you to enter the castle. 

"In girls, it looks like rain..."

"Are we to spend all of our time indoors, then?" Your sister pouts. 

"That is less than ideal, considering Y/N is here to be outdoors for a change, but I suppose it depends on the weather," your father glares at the sky. "England wishes to give us a proper welcome."

"No, thank you!" Marie picks up her pace.

"I spend time outdoors," you argue under your breath.

The man smiles. "Let me rephrase, then. To meet new people and spend time with them outdoors."

As you enter the wide hall you're welcomed by the Queen of England and her many children. A few are closer to your age, but you do not like the way the male part of the bunch eyes you and your sister. Or the way the Princesses look at your brothers, for that matter.

"Your Majesty, Queen Amelia of Genovia. King Consort, Nicholas Devereaux, and their children— Princess Y/N Devereaux, Princess Marie Devereaux, and the Princes Richard and Rowan Devereaux."

While the girls curtsy and the boys bow, the queens greet each other. Queen Charlotte spares a brief glance toward your father and a little 'hmph' escapes her lips with no further comment. King Nicholas, a man with a sense of humour, glances your way and pretends to loosen his cravat anxiously while gulping, which makes you giggle.

"Ah, Benedict, there you are," Violet surveys her son over the teacup she's holding. "Took you long enough to join us. Where have you been?"

"Morning, Mother, I apologize," he smiles and sits next to Gregory. "I woke up early and walked around Hyde Park hoping for inspiration to strike."

"Seems to me you were the one striking," Colin mutters across the table, eyeing his brother's neck with a grin. Benedict pulls his cravat higher up and glares at his brother to keep quiet.

"Benedict, did you hear the news?" Hyacinth speaks, almost shaking with excitement. "A royal family is attending the first ball of the season!"

"There is always some royal family at balls, isn't it?" He retorts without interest.

"The Queen and King of Genovia are staying in London for the whole season," Anthony says carefully. "Along with their two daughters and sons. I expect you to keep the family name as pristine as ever."

"Is this why you're here and not at home with your wife?" Benedict asks. "You came to scold us ahead in case we were planning to make a fool of ourselves?" Anthony doesn't dignify the question with an answer, he looks at his brother with a steely glare for a few extra seconds before he goes back to his food. Like I care about flimsy princesses, Benedict thinks with disdain.

"Whistledown says this will be the first public appearance of Princess Y/N!" Hyacinth continues, unbothered by her brothers's lack of excitement. "I wish I were old enough to attend the ball..." She turns to Francesca and Eloise. "Will you try to befriend her for me? She must be your age."

Eloise scoffs. "Befriend a princess? If she's anything like ours, she'll be all night fanning herself looking down at every poor mortal that dares walk within her breathing distance."

"They're not quite like us," Colin points out, just as fond of gossip as his sister. "Ever since Queen Amelia ascended to the throne, Genovia has been known for their... er... forward thinking."

Benedict snorts. Whatever royalty considers "forward thinking" is not even halfway there. Eloise, however, leans on the table wanting to hear more of it. "What do you mean, brother?"

"Women are encouraged to get higher education. They participate in sports, hunts, arts— and can wear male's clothing—"

That pulls a gasp from their mother and Eloise, although they're both different sounds in nature. Violet blushes and replies in a shy voice. "Oh, well... if it works for them..."

"They're well on their way to becoming a leading nation," Colin continues excitedly. "Which is why the Queen has invited them. Whistledown made a joke last month... something about England living in the Dark Ages and being the reason why people branch out and leave the country, claimed that Genovia would double in size thanks to us... it was quite merciless."

Anthony shakes his head. "You let women do stuff they're already doing in the privacy of their homes and call it revolutionary. Please."

What would the Queen of Genovia think of people like Benedict? Maybe he should visit the country, perhaps this very season, he would try anything just to escape the usual horde of debutants and dull social events...

"Well, there is a great deal of difference between having to be private and choosing to be," Francesca argues. Benedict smiles at her, a silent compliment he gives every time she outwits Anthony.

"There are other things happening in Genovia, it's not all about women," Colin shrugs it off. "I was just giving an example I knew would interest Eloise the most."

"And which ones were left out of your consideration?" Eloise grins.

"The potty rooms," he states, making Gregory choke on his tea.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@babypink224221 @Booknerdlife @djsporks @lght-roastcoffee @marii-ren @mythical-goth @omgsuperstarg @creepytoes88 @sarahskywalker-amidala

[apricot-blossomss]

Hey. I LOVE what you've been writing for Apollo. Could I request something preferably gn but up to you?

Something about a devotee of Athena and Ares' lover? Like they were a wonderful fighter, got spotted and gained Athena's favour (I was kinka thinking like Odysseus). I just thought the idea of one of Athena's heroes loving her rival

☛ athena's devotee! gn! reader having a secret love affair with ares

☛ sfw, fluff & angst, first oneshot for ares!

Peace had never really been an option for you. From a young age, your life had been marked by chaos, violence and war- all things you were good at. Maybe that was the reason meditation or calmly going into yourself just didn't work for you. Thus, you were making the training puppets the victims of your pent up frustration.

Being a hero of Athena had its blessings and curses, and you walked on the fine balance between the two. Hacking at the props blindly, your mind wandered to one of the more ambiguous side effects of your position- though it was all but inherent. But if you hadn't been a chosen devotee of Athena, you would have certainly never caught the eye of another god who had all but holy intentions.

Suddenly, one of the figures you were attacking parried and you ripped your eyes open, just in time to dodge a hit by your opponent and get a closer look at him. The initial shock turned into excitement as you deflected a blow and evaded the sword of the mighty god of war himself. With a new rush of adrenaline in tow, you ducked and attacked his flank. Effortlessly, his sword arm shot down, and he took advantage of your short moment of hesitation and his physical superiority to disarm you and make you unable to retrieve your weapon- or steal his, your speciality- by pulling you into his chest and locking you in.

With a mirth in your eyes that made him crazy every time, you smiled up at him. "We have to stop meeting like this, or I'll win again."

"Ts," he made and his dark baritone vibrated against your body, since he still held you snugly against his broad chest. "Only because I let you win." He released you, and in complete contrast to the brutal swing of his sword, his touch was now very gentle as he set you down. You appreciated it, because it was rare that anyone had a little gentleness for you.

"Whatever you want to tell yourself," you grin and saw him mirror your expression. The god bent down to get your sword off the ground and wordlessly handed it back to you. You took it and wrapped your smaller hand around his as you walked over to the shed where you kept your weapons. He let you take him there without any resistance.

Even after all these months, holding your hand was still a strange feeling to the god. Not only that it was so much smaller, it was so soft, and yet had the same small cuts and bruises as his. Not that Ares had ever been good at reflecting on, much less expressing his feelings, but he did know that holding your hand felt good.

"Rough day?," you asked, and he wondered how your eyes could still be so kind, even when looking at him, even after what your life had become.

"Rough life," he said and you laughed at his poor attempt of a joke. He resorted to what he could do best, aside from fighting: he frowned in response. Because he didn't want to let you see how your little laugh had his chest swell with- something. Something warm, something good.

"So, what do we do about that?" you asked and your peppy optimism made him chuckle. He did know one thing: life was hell for the both of you. Only he frowned, and you enthusiastically pulled him away from the fighting grounds to savor the little time you two had with each other at a more peaceful place- and yes, you were aware of the irony of that.

At a secluded spot on the beach, you rested in the shadow of a tree and put a head on his shoulder. With him, you were always the one to make the first move. In touching and kissing because Ares was very unsure of himself when it came to affection, in fighting because he was too sure of himself. You snuggled closer to him and he got the message and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "Ares?"

A low hum was all you got in response. "Did you... did you tell Lady Athena about us?"

"No," he said curtly and looked down at you. His fiery eyes were somehow more calming than the quiet sea, or the soft wind. There had to be something wrong with you, that you could lie in the hands of destruction and feel more content than you would any other place. "Why?"

Chewing on your bottom lip, you looked back out onto the ocean, with its gentle, rippling waves, and wished you could parve a way through them to make them feel like you felt. Divided. "She asked me whether there was someone- someone more important to me than her."

"Am I?"

Shocked, you turned around and slapped him across the neck which only made him smile in amusement. "Gods, you're just as bad as her! Why does it always have to be a 'more' or a 'most' with you both?"

Ares gave you an apologetical smile and caught your hand, just to guide it into his locks, a rare show of initiating contact. "It always is with us. I'm sorry you're caught in between that."

"I love you both," you said stubbornly and caressed his scalp, making him groan in delight and rest his head on your shoulder. "Why can't I just love you both?" He didn't answer that question, and you were glad he didn't. Because the topic had turned awfully negative, you smiled down at him cheerily. "Well, at least it's exciting, all that sneaking around and hiding. Like a stealth mission with an unusually lovable partner."

"I'm not," he said, eyes closed and savoring your warm touch. "I'm not lovable. You are." It wasn't flirting, but maybe as close to it as he could.

"If you aren't lovable, what am I doing here?" you asked, making him look at you and hovering just over his lips in a silent challenge for him to close the gap between you.

"No idea," he whispered, something he rarely did, and leaned up to kiss you. Weirdly enough, Ares kisses were shy in the beginning, and as soon as you made them more, he exploded into a fervor of spit and passion and clashing teeth as if he had been constraining himself for too long. You knew why, he didn't have to tell you. Or rather: he did tell you, in the way he held your hands, your body, the back of your neck as he responded to you deepening the kiss with a series of passionate kisses, capturing your lips as if in a haze of fury.

It was you who broke away- never him, always you. Looking up into his restless eyes, in your own little world with him, breathing each other's breaths, you let your smile be, and he his frown. Just looking, just feeling, just thinking about each other and not sharing your thoughts because you trusted und knew each other enough.

"Being divided isn't so bad, you know?" you said and brushed his raven black hair out of his eyes, one of which being adorned by a vertical scar. "I'd be less whole, if I was- whole, you know?"

"I'm not good with your philosophical monologues," he said gently and pulled you closer, but you knew he understood, even if he didn't know he did.

🗡️

"Brother."

The last thing Ares wanted to talk to as he was drowning in the oh so sweet memories of last night was his tight-lipped sister and rival Athena. Still, he took notice of her by looking up from the attack he was overseeing on earth. He was surprised to find her not decked in her usual armor but dressed in a simple, functional tunic.

"May I sit?"

Grumbling under his breath and nodding, the god redirected his eyes to the battle down on earth. He had a good idea what she wanted from him, but he wasn't going to give it up. That she was the goddess of strategy didn't change the fact that Ares, too, understood the subtext here. The tunic meant a deal, a draw, that, if Athena had her wish, would result in her making him leave you.

He knew how she would do it, because he knew her. She wouldn't outright say it, she would break him down bit by bit, telling him he was not fit, he was going to cause you harm, that you deserved better. But it wouldn't work. Not because he knew it was wrong- it wasn't. But because, at heart, he was a selfish man. He loved you unconditionally, but as long as you didn't strike against him with the attempt to do harm, he would not leave you. And even then, he would never stop loving you, not ever. That he knew.

"They are not going to win, you know?" Athena said quietly as she seated herself beside him, nodding down to the battlefield.

"I know." Silence. "They will wreck unrepairable damage to their enemy, though." He felt Athena's grey eyes on him, but he didn't return their frown. His gaze had wandered- it had never been wholly focused on the fight in the first place. There you were. He spotted you, cooking dinner in your cabin for yourself. Always a bit more than necessary, in case he would come. He had been planning to.

"Is that what you're trying to do to me?" his sister asked him sharply and Ares' head shot around at the remark.

"This isn't about you"

"Of course it's about me." Athena let out a short, dry laugh. "It's about me and your pride. But they don't have anything to do with this. Leave them out of this fight, do not use them against me."

Ares had been wrong, and it felt like a gut punch. His sister didn't even allow him the grace to assume he could love you. Of course. He was just a bloodthirsty monster after all, unable to love, only lust and kill. Because he didn't know how else to say it, and because the heat bubbling in his chest threatened to explode into violent rage, he told her. "I love them."

"No, you don't," Athena hissed. "If you would, you would leave them alone. You are selfish and lustful, and you want to corner me, but it won't work."

"Are you trying to lecture me about love?" Ares scoffed, having a hard time containing his anger. "About selfishness? You are so self-centered, you can't even see- you can't-" He was raging now, which was always a bad move against Athena.

"They deserve better than you," she said coldly. "They deserve a gentle, loving spouse who will grow old with them and be there for them."

"Yes," the god confirmed. "But they chose me. Respect that, sister," he growled as his troops retreated and rose to his feet, uninterested in continuing the conversation. Athena was uncharacteristically quiet when he stormed off.

🗡️

The door slammed so hard against the wall that you jumped, even though you instinctively knew who it was. Not even a second later, strong arms closed around you from behind as you felt his chest heave against your back. His raspy voice next to your ear. "Kiss me or I'm gonna break something."

"What's wrong?" you breathed as you turned around in his arms and found yourself face to face with pure, unfiltered rage. His grip on you only tightened as if he was barely holding himself together. For a moment you were unable to breathe at all as you looked into his eyes.

With a long groan, his lips clashed with yours. In the heated kiss, you could feel all his pent up frustration, all his anger and fury. It was amazing. You kissed him back, standing on your toes for better access, and he hoisted you up onto the counter effortlessly. "Don't- fuck- don't look at me," he mumbled in between kisses.

Instead of an answer, you brought your hands into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. His wandered to your waist as his lips travelled down your neck, biting and marking like a man possessed. Moaning out a curse, you reluctantly pulled away from him. "Ares- if she sees the marks-"

"She knows," he muttered darkly, continuing his ministrations as you felt your lungs constrict. Unable to think about the consequences of this as he was covering your neck and collarbone in marks and bruises, you let his rough hands slip under your shirt, kneading your waist. Ares cursed when you pulled at the roots of his hair and you could feel his hot breath caressing your ear. "You're mine, right? You love me?"

"Y-yeah," you chocked out as he nibbled at the base of your throat. "I'm yours, I love you." The only answer you got was a guttural groan. Suddenly, you felt the tension leave his body as he slumped into you, hiding his face in the marked up crook of your neck. His arms encircled you as he caught his breath slowly. How fast had he sprinted to get to you?

You released your grip on his dark locks and opted to brushing through them gently. With a low hum, you let him catch his breath and cool his anger, curling into your body, as you caressed his hair and shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes"

The answer surprised you. As he looked up from your neck, you could see that the fiery storm in his eyes had calmed slightly. For a second, he looked really tired, before his signature frown adorned his face once more. "But not here. Not now."

You nodded and pecked the tip of his nose. "I'll draw you a bath, alright?" Only reluctantly, he let you go and when you slipped through the door, he propped up his head on his hands, rubbing his temples. They deserve better than you. Yes, you did. But he knew he couldn't give this up: your kisses, your hands caressing his hair, your understanding eyes and soothing voice that called out for him from the bath.

The tub was still a little too hot, but that was exactly what he needed. Laying down in the warm water, he looked up at you with your shining eyes and breathtaking smile. How could he be the god? You were divine.

Running a sponge over his shoulders softly, your hands traced his many scars and he felt himself grow self-conscious under your observant eyes. "I'm not... beautiful," he said into the silence, in lack of a better term. Surprised, you looked up at him and frowned. "Yes you are. Have you seen yourself?"

He didn't answer, so you leaned down, put your arms around his soaked, naked shoulders and ran your lips up and down his scars. Your hair grew moist as you rested your head on his shoulder, intertwining your hands with his. "You are the most beautiful man I know. Inside and out."

Ares couldn't believe you, but the words still felt nice, as did your touch, so he only leaned into it, sighing into the relief you offered his restless soul.

They deserve better than you.

He tried to drown out the words and only concentrate on you. If he could, he would write you elaborate declarations, but that wasn't his thing, so he only kissed your temple softly and closed his eyes, knowing he was safe with you now, for however long that may be.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[g-xix]

☁️Guess the Age | Sharky

Summary: That greenscreen suit had Sharky playing up on shoot and completely derailing the video to simply flirt with you, his brain chemistry honestly altered by seeing your body complemented so beautifully in such an ugly green <3

Notes: normally i hate writing fics based off of vids but this one based on THIS VIDEO was sm fun! ik the beta squad fandom is so dead atm but please boys, band together n appreciate this one 😓✊

The green screen suit wasn't the most comfortable, to say the least. As you walked in, you felt as though you were almost walking diagonally with each step, the suit so tight around your hips that you didn't even have full mobility, having to waddle (it felt) on-stage. Even so, the Beta Squad boys didn't fail to notice your shape in the figure-hugging suit.

"Bloody hell," Chunkz was the first to call it out, and you couldn't help but giggle as you watched him wipe his eyes as though he were seeing things.

Kenny of course found Chunkz's reaction hilarious, bursting into his iconic laughs whilst Niko had simply moved onto the next person - AJ trying to do the same - and Sharky not even attempting, his jaw slackened with wide eyes of shock and simultaneous allure. 

Luckily, each person had a name tag on so that you could at least tell who was who on the judging panel - after all - your friend had told you before coming on that if the one called 'Neeko' (her pronunciation of the name different from the name scribbled onto his card) tried to fist bump you, it was going to be a set up. Avoid at all costs. 

That being said, as your eyes scanned the line up, they definitely lingered on one person. 

Seemingly effortless, leaning back in his chair with his arm around the one to the side, tongue tracing his teeth with his lips parted just a fraction to show off those pearly whites - black durag and dark beard which sculpted that undeniably gorgeous face...

It was definitely too early to have a crush on 'Sharky', but you didn't fail to notice how pretty he was. The way Sharky's eyes seemed to trace down your body made you feel as though he was reciprocating this realisation.

As the introduction drew to a close, two boys were called up to re-order the lineup based on age: Kenny and Niko. They clambered up onto the stage, hand set on Niko's chin, Kenny's hands on hips, the duo scanning each and every one of you.

"You" Kenny moved to examine you. "You look relatively..."

"Good?" You finished his sentence, not wanting to hear how else he could end that sentence. Kenny laughed with the rest of the boys as he realised he'd been droning on,  hand covering his face in embarrassment. 

"Sure, yeah, that," Kenny agreed hastily with a grin, trying to move over the obvious flusterment at the comment. "I feel like you're somewhere around..." Kenny took a step back to look at the line and gesture towards the younger end, between two other contestants. "Here - not the youngest, but far from old."

"So sweet," Came your not-sarcastic-but-somewhat-so response, the boys at the table laughing slightly as Kenny courteously took your hand to lead you down the line to where he stationed you.

And despite the fact you'd been moved, and Kenny and Niko had moved onto the next contestant to judge, you could still feel a pair of eyes watching you.

Looking up from the floor, you made eye contact across the room. Sharky. Looking right back up at you. Obviously, he couldn't see where your eyes faced as the greensuit obscured your face - though he could see your green-covered head move up, and face the same general direction as he sat, relative to you. 

His eyes were dark - like - black hole type dark. The type of dark that sucked you in and had you drowning in the colourless abyss, only highlighted by a coffee coloured tint around the outermost circumference of his irises. 

Raising a hand slowly, maintaining eye contact with you - he held his hand besides his head - elbow resting against the table and fingers outstretched, palm facing you. 

And he wiggled his fingers.

Like a little salute or wave - just seeing whether you were actually looking. Whether he had your attention and you were interested by him - craving to see whether you would show an ounce of interest in him to balance the tonne of fascination he held for you.

So raising your own hand slightly - bending your wrist upwards at your waist so that your palm faced him, without attracting the attention of any of the other cast and set members, you wiggled your fingers, waving subtly back at the attractive man. Sharky was like a kid in a candy shop as you responded, those dark eyes filling with excitement and enthusiasm as he saw you respond; no longer just a prop for the sake of the video - non-verbally agreeing to entertain and interact with Sharky away from the video purpose. He was thrilled, and sat up straight within his chair at the realisation.

Confidence overcoming the enthused noiret, he pulled his fingers together and pressed them against his lips, holding your gaze as he blew a kiss out towards you which you hadn't expected - a heat rushing to your cheeks at the action and making you feel glad that the suit you wore covered your darkening cheeks as your body responded to Sharky's flirting, your arms folded behind your back and hands clasping together - gripping each other tightly with awe - the voice inside your head quietly screaming, cheering and panicking in the background of your conscience. 

"Are you paying flipping attention?" 

Sharky's flirting was interrupted as Chunkz had turned around to observe the boy with a weary look. 

"Yeah, to someone." Sharky lost eye contact to look back to you with a wink, your cheeks only darkening more, fingers shaking slightly though you masked your physical symptoms of nerves as you pressed a hand to your chest to show how flattered you were.

"What the hell is Sharky doing?" Niko questioned with surprise, laughing despite the shock as he turned to look between yourself and Sharky - your stance with all your weight resting on one foot, turning slightly on one leg on the spot whilst Sharky stared up at you - taking his lower lip between his teeth just a bit too sensually for you to cope, being up on a stage and recorded for millions to see.

And so you looked away.

The next round was announced soon enough however, and the video progressed onto the next segment. "FOR ROUND TWO, COULD YOU PLEASE STATE YOUR NAME  AND WHAT YOU DO."

You stepped up, giving your name to the panel, and adding your role as: "A dance coach". The boys sat at the table let out ooohs, and Sharky's lips curled into a smirk, pen resting across those lips as he took it withing his mouth for a moment.

"Gotta be somewhat young to have an active job like that." Niko reasoned with the boys on their chairs, his suggestion met with hums of agreement.

"But not too young y'know - you have to have experience and to have learnt how to do those dances in the first place." Chunkz countered, and was met with another hum of agreement.

"What type of dance do you do?" Sharky looked up at you and asked. "Just out of interest."

"I do multiple." You answered. "A lot of contemporary and hip-hop just personally - but I teach more trad like jazz, ballroom, tango..."

"How'd you get into dance?"

"I started with traditional Bharatnatyam - I'm from Tamil Nadu originally, so I started with that traditional dance style."

Chunkz's interest peaked as you mentioned Indian heritage, readying to get into an avid conversation about Bollywood and different songs... Though AJ had to cut the round short so that Chunkz didn't overexcite and spend the next half hour discussing with you. Not before Sharky got to pry more into your dance experience, however.

"What's that dance style like?"

"Well, it involves a lot of muscle control - especially around the core - and it actually helped me then get into belly dancing more-"

Sharky let out a noise that made everyone pause in shock. You were cut off and stunned as the man you'd found yourself with peaked interest towards... growl?? Some strange mix of circling his head and emitting a purr-growl hybrid that shocked now only you, but all the other boys on the panel, too.

"Right, chill out, that's e-NOUGH-" AJ was the one to stand up and call off that round.

The next round was personal questions, and each question which you received seem to elude more and more at Sharky. At least Niko was one of the only boys with his head in the game, as he started with what was at least somewhat of a normal question.

"What phone do you have?" Niko asked, and you sighed already knowing you'd disappoint.

"I have a galaxy - m30s model."

The boys hissed from their seats.

"I can change her, guys." Sharky mumbled to the rest of the panel boys, though you heard it and laughed. Sharky looked up with a hint of an alarmed expression - pointing at you with a grin and saying - "You weren't meant to hear that-" before following up with "ontomyquestionthough - what's your number?"

You and the boys burst out laughing at that, knowing it was a joke though still feeling your fingers trembling with nerves because - oh my fuck - he was very, very into you. And it wasn't even secret any more. That man was unashamedly thirsting, and you were scared, knowing that you get flustered all too easily, which wouldn't be helped by the fact that you actually liked this guy that was making you feel all flustered.

Then Kenny's question.

"Okay, this could tell a lot about your age..." He looked up from his notepad. "What is your type."

You rolled your eyes, though no-one saw.

"I'm a connection over looks person." You gave quite a concise answer before expanding further. "Only physical thing I care about is a man that's taller than me and is relatively physically fit... Other than that though, I care more about whether they're sweet, likeable, and we get on well, really."

"Have you found that person yet?" Kenny pressed with a grin as he asked.

You shook your head in response. Kenny leaned behind Chunkz's back and pat Sharky on the back as a show of support. You rolled your eyes again.

"Just another quick one," Chunkz nonchalantly referenced before his question which was once again, Sharky-oriented. "Are you old enough to date a 28 year old?"

You dead stared at the man for a few seconds. "Yes." Your response was met with cheers from the panel and you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips, even when you wanted to be annoyed about the fact that not a single one of these questions really gave a good idea of your age.

And finally, it was Sharky's turn to ask his question.

"So, you said you were a dance coach... Can I dance with you?" 

You looked at the man in his seat. Smirk gone, sweet smile and wide, hopeful eyes. He looked disgustingly cute - like a cherub with the innocent expression that was almost impossible to refuse. Sighing and looking down, you gave a nod and offered a hand to get him up into the stage.

And dear God was he 10x more attractive when he was stood opposite you.

Six foot two. At least. He towered over you, your height making you eye-level with his chest and forcing you to look up at the man that had such an attractive face - dark eyes already something you'd ogled at, but ten times more alluring when they were barely a foot away from your own, his lips soft and balmed, perfectly even on both sides and two toned with the upper one slightly darker. 

Sharky was obviously awkwardly stood there. Looking down at the bright green orb that was your head for long enough for it to feel slightly uncanny...

But you couldn't help yourself from not doing anything. Because in that time where you just stilly looking up at him, you were admiring his face. From the darkness around his sleepy eyes that only made him even more attractive, to the facial hair that framed those pretty lips. 

"Sorry-uhm-what dance did you say you do again?" Sharky paused your moment to admire by breaking the silence. You heard a couple of the boys on the panel quietly giggle as you were quite obviously broken from your trance, body un-locking as you came back to conscience.

"Right, uhm, we can do a slow sort of waltz-that's quite simple-it's just box stepping..."

You took Sharky's right hand within yours and held it out in front of your bodies. Sharky instinctively put his other hand around your waist - the large hand sitting on the curve above your hips and encompassing the space, pulling your body closer to his.

You could feel his body brush against yours, and although for the waltz, Sharky should've had his hand higher and on your back... You didn't have it in you to move his hand, as you guiltily indulged within the feeling of his perfectly sized hand against your body, the feeling of it making a blush rise to your cheeks. It's fine, you told yourself; you were a contemporary dancer, and letting Sharky rest his hand on your waist was technically just a modern twist on the classic Waltz you'd learned.

"Okay, so it's step back-left-forwards, and then right-" Your words were met with Sharky following the instructions, pivoting with you and following the box steps, his hand on your waist surprisingly leading you and working well with your movements as he danced with you. 

The close proximity between your bodies allowed something to infiltrate your suit - a scent passing through the green second-skin and through to your nostrils, where pine and mint interwove and had you leaning in closer to Sharky to chase that scent and smell more of it. Because holy fuck it was absolutely delicious. You wanted to spray your entire apartment with that scent and then crawl inside the bottle of perfume - or cologne - whatever it was. 

Sharky shocked you as he pulled away and raised his arm above you, spinning you around and making you laugh as you turned around, one of Sharky's arms detaching and pulling you into his body before dipping slightly - letting you lean into his arm as he leaned you back, his face ever so close to yours, his exhale fanning gently over your green suit.

And you only realised that you'd blocked out the noise of the other boys, when you heard them clap and let out whistles once the two of you paused in that position, indicating an end.

"Did you learn anything about her age from that?" Chunkz asked once Sharky returned down to the panel after having danced with you on the stage.

Sharky looked at the man with a dazed expression, as though his brain chemistry had been altered and his mental formations still hadn't quite recovered since. "I think she's the one," was all that he could get out.

It was fair to say that after the final rearrangement, you were scared to unmask in front of the audience. You knew you'd become a key character in this line up. There was chemistry between you and Sharky, and he'd fallen for who you were with the mask on.

Hand clutching the back of your suit, you could feel your heartbeat in your throat. Fearing. Because all that attraction and everything Sharky liked about you could dissipate within seconds, if Sharky didn't like the face behind the green suit. Worst of all, if he said anything about that to your face. It'd break you.

"Now, Mrs Sharkmarke, could you please de-mask."

You could've thrown up from the nerves that sent goosebumps crawling down every limb of your body as you pulled the suit down from your head to neck. 

The bright lights were blinding for a moment - suit resting at your neck as you fluffed your curls out, having been flattened in the suit. Unscrunching your face and accustoming yourself to the bright lights and looking down at the panel below...

You didn't notice any of the boys other than Sharky.

And his jaw was slackened, his hand slowly coming up to press to his mouth.

He looked... shocked?

You felt your heart sinking. Sinking, sinking, sinking - because his expression was truly unreadable as a positive or negative response, and you felt the need to brace. Just in case it turned out that Sharky felt the latter, as though he didn't like you at all.

"You're actually gorgeous..."

You could've collapsed from the way that your braced body felt relief shoot through and unclench every tightened muscle, before a lightness spread through your head - affirmation making dopamine flood through your system and your lips curl into a smile as you looked down to the man at the panel who still had his mouth covered with a hand - though now you could see the smile beneath his fingers.

Awhhs fell from the lips of every other person on the panel, and Chunkz pat the man's back with a smile on his face. 

"You wanna exchange Instagrams or numbers or something?" Kenny pressed with a grin, looking between the two of you. 

And as soon as you raised your brows and gave the smallest of nods to say yeah, i could do that - Sharky was onto his feet and getting back up onto the raised platform to thrust his phone into your hand with an empty contact so that you could fill out your details.

And Sharky didn't finish creating the contact until he had taken a picture of you with your hand next to your face - his fingers interlocked with yours, showing you two holding your hands together whilst you sported the widest grin - using that photo as a contact photo. 

Before Sharky handed you your phone back after having made a contact for himself in your phone, you watched as he opened up your Google calendar and scanned your week to see... That you were available Friday at 8pm.

He handed back your phone after a second, and you noticed that scheduled at 8 o'clock the next Friday was "Date with cute Beta Squad guy (we're going Wagamama's.)" 

And leaving that shoot, when you crossed paths with Sharky once de-microphoned and removed from the green-suit prison, you looked up at him with a smile and "See you Friday," having him smile as he returned the "See you then, gorgeous," making you leave the shoot with a blush all over your face and giggle escaping your lips as you made it back to your car and realised your phone was ringing.

Your best friend had called you - the one who had warned you just last night about how you shouldn't accept a fist bump from Neeko. 

"HOW WAS IT?!" Her excited voice called out from the phone speaker as you placed your phone in the control panel and let out a squeal.

"Oh my GOD, DO I HAVE A STORY ABOUT HOW IT WENT."

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more for Beta Squad and other YouTubers, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

p.s. Customise which Oneshots YOU want to be tagged in by submitting your preferences on THIS GOOGLE FORM + join the taglist!!!

SHARKY TAGLISTTTTT:

@clarkeysbog, @mekselinaurr, @springholland, @xxkatxgracexx, @certainsaturn

@daniiixoxo, @mekselinaurr, @blackbat2020, @ajshabsxxwife, @bisexualmess4eva

@dollxkill, @eviebow, @kennysimp101, @martini4lyfe, , @zandrax

@lilyyxoii, @notalloutofusernames, @pinkpomelo, @wh4theduck

@scassty1202, @nikoomilanaswife, @thankunextx, @un1ver53

[sakumichisworld]

So, it’s time for our KnB Ocs! Information under the cut. Before that, I will warn you that our characters are very closely connected to the GOM and are managers/assistants in different schools. Just because we didn't really have enough of the managers' activities in KnB yeah. Ships with canons as usual too.

Name: Mitsuba Ume

Kanji: 三葉優芽

Gender: Female (she/her)

Age: 15 years old

Height: 156 cm

Weight: 52 kg

Birthday: March 26th

Blood Type: A

Team: Teiko (former); Too

Job: Assistant Manager

Voice Actor: Ito Shizuka

"And yet... in those moments of need, all I could do was do nothing. How sad. Can I even call myself a friend when I couldn't lend a helping hand? Those moments... I won't ever get to hold them again..."

Mitsuba Ume is a former assistant manager of Teiko basketball team and a friend of Momoi Satsuki from elementary school. After entering high school, she joined Too basketball team as an assistant manager at Satsuki's request.

Personality

Ume had always been a reserved person, her best friend for as long as she could remember was Momoi Satsuki, and that was enough for her. The only other close person besides Satsuki for her was Aomine Daiki, simply because he was Momoi's childhood friend, and they attended the same elementary school. Their relationship... to put it mildly, is peculiar. In any case, Ume has always valued her small circle of friends, and it only expanded after she joined Teiko basketball club, where she served as an assistant manager.

During her time at Teiko, Ume came across as extremely reserved and rigid in her interactions with others. It wasn't that she lacked the ability to connect; rather, she simply did not want to. However, beneath her seemingly cold exterior, Ume was a surprisingly cheerful and considerate girl, known for stepping up to help when needed, a trait that came in handy as the assistant manager. Basketball wasn't initially Ume's primary pastime or passion. However, by being surrounded by the fervent love and enthusiasm of those around her for the sport, she found herself, quite inadvertently, developing an interest in it.

In high school, Ume's personality underwent a transformation. Gone were the days of being overly reserved in her communication; she now possessed a slight rudeness, unafraid to stand up for herself and her opinions. She has an ability to skillfully balance her politeness with assertiveness to achieve desired outcomes. Although Ume's demeanor had shifted, one trait remained constant: her unwavering dedication to supporting her loved ones. Even if she wasn't as joyful and proactive as before, she still agreed to be Momoi's assistant at Too Academy, simply because she couldn't bear to leave Momoi to face the challenges alone. Although, the reason was not only this.

Trivia

Her motto is "Fall down seven times, get up eight"

Her favorite food is ramen.

Her hobby is reading shoujo manga and collecting anime merchandise.

Her speciality is making schedules, memorizing people's faces.

Her best subject is English.

She is the only child and lives with her mother.

Doesn't like chocolate.

She doesn't like insects, especially cicadas.

Artwork done by Michi

[jaune-submissive-and-breedable]

'Jaune father sold him to Weiss's family as a servant/bodyguard. And of course, Weiss's asshole of a father would have him experimented on, making him taller and place him to be a guard the mansion like a dog. But Weiss and her family/friends take full Avenged of their sweet power guard dog.

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

"Oh, Of course, we'll be happy to see you dear" Willow chirped. The screen before her had the visage of her eldest children, standing at attention with a crispy military uniform. "And I'm sure HE will be happy too~"

After closing the call, Willow leaned back in her chair and sighed happily. It's been a long while since she's had all her children together, maybe longer, with Weiss and Bleiss going to separate combat schools. She rose to inform her daughters that their elder sister would be visiting soon, pausing to ask her personal maid a very important question.

"2P, where is Jaune right now? I'm sure he'd be overjoyed to hear Winter's coming for a visit"

"I believe he's playing with the twin mistresses, ma'am" the dark skin maid replied.

Willow sighed and raised a hand to her temple. "I swear...those girls..."

She left her office and headed towards the twin heiress' room. they always wanted to play with the blonde boy, even from a young age, despite Jaune being a faunus. Honestly, she couldn't blame them, he was a really good boy. And the way his ears and tail wagged when he was happy is just the cutest.

Years ago, before Weiss was born, her husband, Jasque had acquired Jaune from his family for a pretty penny. The transaction was visibly illegal, but the law meant nothing to wealthy men like him. After doing so, he had atlas physicians and scientists experiment on the poor boy for months before introducing him to the family. He was tall, almost to her hips, had scars all over his body and his eyes were dull and lifeless from the experiment. What shocked her and enraged her most was how young he was. For this reason, he was placed as Winter's bodyguard and servant since they were the same age. They were inseparable since then, always doing things together no matter who was present. Be it eating playing, bathing, or even sleeping Jaune was there for her, he even got a little life back in his eyes After Weiss, Bleiss, and Whitley were born, he became their bodyguard and servant as well. All including Willow, the servants, Klein, and some of their guests loved Jaune's company for one reason or another. He also lived up to his bodyguard status in the family quite well. He truly was a good boy.

As Willow neared her daughters' room, she could her the muffled sounds of flesh colliding, moans of pleasure, and the distinct shouts of swears, no doubt from that vulgar child of hers.

*I swear that girl is gonna be the death of me* she thought as she turned the nob.

When she opened the door, Willow was immediately hit with the distinct smell of sex emanating from the twins' room. Looking inside, she saw Jaune lying on Weiss's bed. His clothes were thrown all over the room leaving him naked as the two girls in question had their way with him. Around his feet, and presumably, his hands were black glyphs that held him in place.

Weiss sat atop his face with a groin smashed into his mouth. Her long white hair was loose and tangled around her sweat-caked body. She wore only her pure white panties and a pair of white thigh-high socks. Her mouth was wide open from Jaune's long flat, dog-like tongue licking and probing her pussy.

Bleiss, on the other hand, sat on his groin, moaning and shouting as his cock speared her tiny pussy. Unlike her sister, she was completely nude save for the lacy pair of panties that hung loosely around her ankles. Her pitch-black hair was held in a neat ponytail allowing any onlooker to see her cup breast bouncing wildly up and down.

"FUCK, HIS COCK IS SOO~ GOOD!" She shouts ceasing her bouncing to wildly grind against Jaune's cock.

Across from her, Weiss moaned as his voice vibrated in her pussy "Bleiss you sow...*Moan*....Get off his it's my turn now!"

The haired girl flipped her twin off with a smirk, "Oh please, you snooze you lose bitch~"

Weiss's face scrunched at her twin's reply, her face red with anger "Why you listen here you....you"

"Ahem"

Looking to who said that, they girls' eyes widen when they saw their mother standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a disappointed expression.

"Oh.....fuck"

"Mother!..."

"Care to explain what you two are doing.." she paused looking at Bleis. a splatter of cloudy fluid covered his ass and leaked from her womanhood. Looking down Willow also saw a bright blue cockring laying on the floor "Bleiss....turn around"

Bleiss had a nervous expression on her face and protested "Oh...but umm.......I'm...uhhh"

Now, Bleiss"

She wanted to protest more but begrudgingly turned around. Willow shook her head upon seeing her daughter's bloated stomach, no doubt allowing Jaune to cum inside her.

"Really dear...." she sighed

"I warned her not to but she wouldn't listen, Mother" Weiss chimed, despite having a bloated stomach as well, albeit small.

Bleiss turned around to face her twin, fury covering her face "YOU FUCKING ASS KISSING!!!!..."

Willow was about to stop their arguing but 2P beat her the punch. The android grabbed the duo by their arms and roughly pulled them to their feet. Their stomachs emptying themselves of cum now that they're unplugged, the cloudy white fluid forming into lakes on the floor. From the bed, Jaune sat up coughing, his throat full of his own cum from Weiss sitting on his face.

"Jaune" Willow called out calmly. The blonde looked in her direction for his orders "Go clean yourself up and wait for me in a quarters please, I'll be along to talk with you shortly"

He nodded and made his way towards the door, passed Willow, and into the hallway, leaving his clothes behind. She bit her lip as he passed. Over the years, He's grown into a handsome man. He was well built, still very tall almost 7 feet, and had a decent amount of muscle on his frame. His hair had grown long enough to reach his shoulders. He also had some stumble growing that made him look a bit more mature. She could understand why her daughters risked pregnancy with that stud. Not letting herself be led astray, she turned back to her daughters, disappointed and overall just tired of their shenanigans.

"You too are to be attending two of the best huntsman academies in the kingdoms and yet you risk getting pregnant before you even graduate? You know Jaune's sperm is highly potent" She sighed and turned to leave, giving 2P one small task. "2P, please make sure these too are cleaned and dressed. Also, inform Klein that they are not to have any desserts for a week"

"What!"

"Bullshit"

"Make that two weeks"

Hours later, in Willow's bedroom

A muted groan escaped Jaune's mouth as he squirmed on the soft mattress. On his lap sat a half-naked Willow, her blouse torn open, skirt hiked up to her waist, and pantyhose ripped with her panties moved to the side. Her stomach was bloated with cum with small streams leaking from her stuffed pussy. Her left hand was raised in the air holding a syringe of pink fluid while her right used Jaune's chest for balance.

"Your taking to the aphrodisiac nicely" she cooed as she gently rolled her hips on his cock. "I can feel your balls churning with cum~"

"Mistress...I....need to.....BREED" he growled dangerously, his eyes had a feral look in them

She gently kissed his lips and looked into his dull blue eyes, bringing him back to his senses for a moment. whispering huskily"Then breed me~"

Willow gasped as he thrusted his impossibly large cock inside her. He was already skewering her womb from just that one thrust. She hardly had time to process anything before he trusted again then again before fully pistoning his hips inside her. She watched his face twist and contort into a feral expression, his pupils' mere slits in an ocean of blue. She watched him open his and lean to her right, groaning as she felt him nibble on her shoulder. All the while her trusted into here cunt like a dog in heat.

"Oh...Jaune your...AHH!!!"

Willow gasped as Jaune bit hard into her skin, though not enough to draw blood. It was sudden, but a welcome surprise from the faunus. But when she felt him increase the force in his mouth, she began to feel a bit afraid, but even more aroused.

"Jaune...Not so rough" she chuckled, only to be met with animalistic grunts from the faunus. Her smile faltered as felt him biting hard, his teeth threatening to break skin. "that's enough, Jaune"

He didn't reply instead applying more force.

"Jaune....That's Enough"

Still no response.

"Jaune..." she called with more authority "I said that's enough...."

Willow lost all thought in that moment. He had broken through her skin resulting in streams of blood to flow from her shoulder. All according to plan

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

"AHH...BREED ME YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!!!" she cried. Ignore the pain from having her snatch destroyed by his massive cock.

The faunus man obeyed his mistress's request, never stopping his thrusts for a moment. His mind clouded with only one thought, Breed. His cock stretched her vaginal walls as he pushed in and out, occasionally scrapping out leftover bits of cum from earlier. His balls churned with more of the life-giving seed, eager to release it inside of Willow's battered womb.

the matriarch moaned loudly as she felt herself getting dominated by the faunus. It wasn't the first time he ravaged her form, in fact, it was a near-weekly occurrence. Ever since the "tragic" death of her husband, she along with her daughters had been using Jaune for sexual relief. And he was leagues better than Jacques ever was. After their first rendevous, the night of Jacques's death, she secretly had a special aphrodisiac that would make him into a horny beast hell-bent of breeding. Sure it left her sore for weeks, but it was well worth it to feel his seed swimming inside her.

"PUMP ME FULL OF YOUR SEED" She screamed, "MAKE ME HAVE ANOTHER PUPPY"

He was more than happy to oblige, his cock twitched and pulsed as he felt his climax rapidly approach. With a mighty grunt he shoved himself deep into her pussy and release a torrent of cum inside her womb, never stopping his thrusts as his seed flooded her womb. Willow's eyes rolled back in her head, moaning loudly as she came alongside her lover, their juices mixing inside her cunt. Even though it was a safe day, there was no way she wouldn't be impregnated afterward, though it wasn't the first time. She moaned contently, knowing he was nowhere close to being done. Sure Winter wouldn't mind if she stole her lover's seed.

Atlas Military base, Winter's quarter.

Winter screamed into her hand as she came. She laid on her bed with her other hand inside her pants, rapidly pumping her fingers inside her drooling snatch. She could hardly wait to visit Schnee Manor and reunite with Jaune. Ever since he entered her life, living had been much better than what it used to be. Especially since the death of her bastard father. That was the day she finally gave herself to I'm. Pinning him to her bed she rode him like a horse forcing every drop of sperm from him til she looked pregnant.

*Jaune....*she thought as she rode out the last seconds of her orgasm.

She wanted him to com with her, but he declined, saying he was nothing more than a guard for the Schnee family, and she needed him no longer. It broke her heart to hear him say those words, but she knew he wanted her to walk her own path. Though she made sure to return home to see him whenever she could. She knew her mother and sisters would use him too, but she knew he longed to her.

*I will make you mine* she thought as she pulled the covers over her *You'll see*

with that last promise, she fell asleep. Dreaming of when her knight slew the foul beast that imprisoned her.

He truly was a good boy.

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

Sent by @dumbawesomev69

Hope you like it.

Also it is implied that jaune killed Jacques

[universeofmuses]

The excitement on his brother’s face reminded him of their younger days when his brother would get excited, he was never able to hide it. This would really be the first time since Viserys started this project of his that his brother would be along to grow it, all this time he thought his brother would find all of this history stuff to be dreadfully boring compared to training for tourneys and executing the justice of the king. Hearing his brother’s words made him chuckled, “Don’t worry brother there will be plenty of wine, and plenty of goodies to eat.” Viserys said looking forward to how the night is shaping up. It would be nice to spend some time with his brother just the two of them without anyone to cause any strife between them. Hearing the idea that Daemon had about Balerion came up with was one that he had considered, “Color coordinating, Balerion and other survivors from Valyria modeled in dragonglass.” He said excitedly, sure the stone was impressive, but imagining dragonglass was a whole new level he hadn’t thought of, “That would be very nice, we would need to provide the stone workers with a detailed description of what we want.” He said with a giddy smile on his face, pouring over the histories was always a fun night. 

After a moment it was like his brother came back down to himself and found that the girl was still hanging off of him and her dragon was nuzzling against him, then it was like everyone realized what had happened and they had all assumed a stance that reflected the realization. Viserys tried to not chuckle at the moments of everyone, but he did notice that the girl and her dragon were very closely bonded to each other. “Yes, quite curious indeed.” He said confused and not quite sure what to make of the girl and her ability to tame the dragon despite not having any connection to Old Valyria. 

As the other man was introduced Viserys nodded his head in greeting and then stepped forward and held out his hand, “Its nice to meet you, let me shake the hand of this wonderful young woman’s father.” He said gratefully that he and his daughter were here, if it wasnt for her his hand would still be in its sorry state about to be removed by the maester. Still he had to hand it to the man by his conservative greeting that he knew how to handle himself around nobles even if he was unfamiliar with customs. Still as different as the man’s daughter was he was sure as she matured she would rein in her high energy, but he did hope that she didnt change who she was as she grew. 

“Please the honor is all mine, Sir.” Viserys said gratefully, he followed the man’s glance over to his daughter and her dragon who started to munch on a nearby fruit bowl, Viserys smiled and was reminded of his daughter when she was younger. He could see the concern on the man’s face for his daughter’s safety with the dragon that was near her, the worry was familiar on his face. “I know you worry about your daughter and her safety around such a dangerous animal. I promise you, the dragon keepers are the greatest in the world, they are well versed in the old ways, and my brother is the best dragon rider the seven kingdoms has ever seen, I promise you she will be like she was my own daughter.” Viserys said trying to reassure the man. 

The man’s concern showed that he was clearly a father, it was a concern that made Viserys chuckle to himself because it reminded him so much of himself when Rhaenyra was the girl’s age, “Forgive me, I am reminded of my same concern when my daughter was learning to ride her dragon at your daughter’s age. I was worried my brother wouldnt be up to task of dealing with her, she can be as wild and dangerous as a dragon herself.” He replied to the man, “Its a pity your daughter and mine aren’t the same age, they’d either be fast friends or fast rivals.” Viserys added with another little chuckle in his voice. “I can assure you, if my brother can survive teaching my daughter how to ride her dragon, he will be more than up to the challenge to teaching your daughter.” He said confidently and then turned his attention to the girl feeding her dragon a pomegranate. 

Hearing his brother’s words about his daughter made Viserys chuckle again, “Anyone after Rhaenyra is a simple task.” Visarys said jokingly, many things were said about the man over the years, though the one thing that couldnt be said was that he wasnt a devoted and loving father to his daughter. In his mind, Viserys only wanted to be remembered as a father and family, as someone who did whatever he needed for his family for their well being. Not for the sake of a dynasty or as a monarch but just as a man who deeply loved and cared about his family. As his brother came and sat with him and the others did too it seemed that there was still much to talk about Aevon’s training. 

Viserys saw the little girl enjoying the sweet treat that his brother gave her, he did have to hand it to the castle cooks, they did know how to make the tastiest treats in all the seven kingdoms. If the number of times that his daughter was in trouble for sneaking treats from the kitchen was any sort of indication of how good they were. 

Heaing the father’s worry reminded Visarys of his own when his daughter was going to train in how to ride a dragon, he wanted to reassure her father but he kept his words in, he didnt want the girl to feel like her dragon wasnt of any sort of consequence but in comparison to some of the other dragons that were held in the dragon pit. 

The little girl, Aevon shyly entered a large chamber, where an intricately crafted model of Old Valyria stood on a huge table, and elaborate dragon figurines stood next to a carved city. She carefully picked up one of them and looked at it in awe. Whoever crafted such wonders certainly had great talent. Feeling an urge to play growing in her, she began to play with the figurine she was holding, imagining that she and her good dragon were forced to defend the city from evil dragons. She played until King Viserys came along. She wasn't afraid of him, as he looked very friendly, but she watched him with curiosity. Was he the one who was doing all these wonderful things?

"Uhmm…Hello, Your Grace…Did you create this city and these dragons?" She asked quietly, carefully putting the figurines down on the table. She didn't want to do anything wrong, fortunately she hadn't broken anything, but she hoped the man wouldn't throw her out of here in a very unpleasant way.

After all, she hadn't done anything wrong. She just wanted to play.

Viserys pet project had become a full blown hobby, what started as a history project to learn about the greatest city ever built in the world had now become the elaborate stone model on the grand table in his lavish bedchambers, it had grown so that he had enlisted the best stone workers to carve the models, the buildings, the dragons, everything to the specifications he supplied them from his readings of the ancient texts.

To the king it was a historical recreation of a city the world would never see again, though to a small child he supposed it would be an elaborate playhouse for a doll. He was returning to his chambers after a council meeting, he had slated the day to be spent with his hobby after the meeting. Though when he got there he found a child in his quarters playing with the model, he stopped for a moment and just watched the little girl play. He knew that eventually he would be a grandsire and knew that eventually his own grandchildren would be here doing the same thing, however he didnt know this child.

The king smiled at the child when she asked her question, he could tell that there was some worry about her, "No I did not, but I commissioned them to be made." he answered her truthfully, he wasnt shy to admit that the detail of the stone in the model was beyond his skill. "Tell me child, who are you?" he asked her curiously wondering who this child was and who was she a child of.

[beloved-cat-gremlin]

7 lost little souls, trying to find their way back home.

[inupibaldspot]

Walk him like a dog

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : The first year trio are watching Gojo who is completely head over heels for you.

To the world, Gojo Satoru is the strongest but to the people who know him Gojo Satoru is a menace.

When he was in high school, he was a different breed. Yaga could not sleep at times from all the stress Gojo would cause; be it either an earful from the higher ups or checking the news only to find out there had been an explosion conveniently where Gojo’s mission was assigned.

Sometimes he would get pictured sent to him by the problem student himself, a picture with a beaten up enemy and Gojo winking at the camera with a note saying ‘Yay~ another victory! I mean it’s as normal as breathing for me (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ’

Even when Yaga would use his authority and lecture him, sometimes Gojo Satoru would not listen; be it simply ignoring or rebutting it with his opinion— an opinion no one asks for.

And when that happens, Yaga would pull out his secret weapon ‘You’! He didn’t use this card all the time but at time Gojo was simply so uncooperative, he had to! Any word coming from you would be listened to by him as if it were law. Right now, at the age of 28 he seemed to have matured- no stopped acting as childish and Yaga didn’t have to rely on you so often.

That same Yaga watches from the window at his new first years— Kugisaki Nobara, Itadori Yuji and Fushiguro Megumi— behind a bush, hiding peeking over to you and Gojo who were on a bench.

“Ah…” Kugisaki sweat dropped at the pair. “Gojo-sensei is so smitten.” She said observing at how you were simply reading a book, as Gojo yaps away but one thing very obvious was the gentle look he gave you.

When you finally looked Gojo’s way, their white haired teacher suddenly stops, they notice a faint blush peeping under his blindfolds and when he does starts talking he stammers. THE Gojo Satoru was stammering, biting his tongue simply because you were looking at him.

“Kugisaki, let’s leave.” Itadori covers his eyes, his right eye peeps through the cracks of his fingers. “Sensei is doing such a bad job at flirting with y/n, I’m getting embarrassed.”

Kugisaki lifts her hands and grabs the collar of Itadori’s and starts shaking it. “This is the closest we’re getting to romance in this school and I want to be the witness.” She grits her teeth.

Just then Nanami walks along the path, making the pair look over. You smile as you call out. “Nanami-kun.”

Nanami stops and waits as you stand from your bench, walking over to greet him. The students stare; as soon as you got off the bench and walks Gojo follows suit not even a millisecond later.

Kugisaki cringes. “He is like a puppy…”

They could vaguely hear Gojo start to make fun of Nanami, but when you think his ‘joke’ was a slight bit too harsh; they watch you give Gojo a side eye and almost immediately their teacher shuts up.

‘y/n has the strongest sorcerer at the palm of their hands .’ Kugisaki and Itadori collectively thought.

Before Kugisaki could comment she senses a small wet feeling on her forehead, then another and then she was drowning in it. Suddenly it started raining.

“Geh. Let’s get out of here.” Kugisaki says as she quickly brought her hands up to cover her bangs. “I don’t want my hair to frizz up.”

Itadori and Fushiguro follows her lead as they walk away to the nearby building and when they did reach shelter, Kugisaki quickly turns around to check on their teacher and you, a fellow sorcerer.

Her mouth drops slightly taking in the situation at hand, Nanami was no where in sight. She assumes he left because of the rain too.

But that wasn’t the focus.

Her eyes were focused on Gojo and you, holding hands smiling fondly at each other, she also noted that he was using ‘Infinity’ to not get wet from the rain.

Gojo laughs as he raises one of your hands high which makes you let out laugh, but complies as you proceed to twirl. As soon as you make two twirls, their teacher places his hands on your face as his leans down, his lips on yours.

Kugisaki and Itadori squeal and blushes at the intimate scene infront of them, jumping. “Sensei, finally did it! He kissed y/n—!” Itadori smiles.

They watch you smile into the kiss and you bring your hands up behind his neck, slowly trailing them into his hair, deepening the kiss.

“I’m so happy,Kugisaki.” Itadori wipes his tears with the back of his hands, extremely happy for his teacher’s happiness and success in his love life.

“I don’t know why you guys are making such a fuss.” Fushiguro finally decides to add into the antics of his classmates.

“Huh?” Kugisaki quickly turns and glares at the dark haired man. ”Is your heart made of stone or something,Fushiguro?”

“Yeah! I heard Gojo-sensei basically raised you.” Itadori chirps in. “You should be more happy for him.”

Kugisaki nods in agreement.

“I mean…” Fushiguro sighs as his hands are up massaging his temple, mentally preparing for the outburst to come.

“They’re married…”

“Ehhhhh???”

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here

[fumiliar]

the epitome of a gentleman. as you stared at the blonde man in front of you, carrying someone's grandma's groceries. you were in awe.

"you've got a good man woman," the grandma who was holding onto your hand smiled. "reminds me of my own, he's at home right now."

"oh, is he sick?" you asked, as the grandma laughed.

"no, we're very healthy! it's just i wanted to do something special for him, i mean, after 50 years of marriage, he's done so much for me," she reminisced her younger days.

"actually, your husband looks like the younger version of mine, you too, i used to look like you! before the age manifested on my face," the grandma started searching inside her purse, finally pulling out a photo of young her. "see."

as you stared at the photo, it was her and her husband holding hands, she was beaming with a smile, while her husband's lips only showed a slight curve. and she was right. from the hairstyle, to the eyes, to the lips, almost everything was identical. "ken, you've got to see this!"

"why love?" he stopped in his tracks, turning around to head back to you. "what's got you both smiling?" he peaks over, seeing the photo you were holding in your hands. "i don't remember taking a photo like that."

"it's not us silly. it's her and her husband!" you lightly hit as his chest, as you and the grandma both burst into laughter.

"scary," kento's mouth forming a slight 'o' as he stared at the picture.

"anyways, my house is right up ahead, i don't want to take up more of your time!" the grandma tried taking the grocery bags from kento, earning a stern no.

"no, we're happy to help you out. we'll bring it to your house."

as you finally reached the grandma's house, she took the grocery bags inside, shouting a 'thank you' and a 'wait a moment'. she came out with a batch of freshly baked cookies, her husband slowly following her.

"take some! my treat for all the help," she nudged the pan closer, you took one cookie as your husband took another. you looked at each other, telepathically counting before you both took a bite at the same time. it was the best cookie you've ever tasted, it was like home.

"this is so good!" you stared at the grandma with heart eyes, as you could see a slight shade of red slowly creeping up to her cheeks.

"she's the best baker ever," you heard a low voice, coming from her husband. he walked over to put a hand over her shoulder, "please come over for dinner sometime, as a way of thanks for helping my dear wife."

you immediately nodded, as you exchanged numbers and goodbyes. kento's arm slowly snaked around your shoulder as you walked away from the house. he pushed your body closer to him, making sure you were touching each other.

"they remind me of us ken," you muttered.

"yea...they do. i guess in every lifetime, i'd always choose you."

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny adopts himself

It's a common joke in Gotham that Bruce Wayne will adopt any black-haired and blue-eyed traumatized boy he finds. So much so that even he leans into it. But he was completely shocked when Damian confronts him about having a new brother that he did not want.

Bruce could barely get a word in when the rest of the family arrived upset that they weren't told about getting another sibling after Damian texted the family group chat (for once).

Damian had encountered a boy around Drake's age moving stuff into what was an empty room. The room was now furnished top to bottom with glowing green lights, tapestries of stars, random artifacts, several telescopes, and model rockets.

He knew the moment he saw the black hair and blue eyes that his father had taken in another ward.

Apparently Bruce was the last the know about his new "son" who was currently rearranging furniture and asking to help Alfred with dinner.

Said dinner was an uncomfortable as Bruce was grilled by his kids on his addiction to adoption. Simultaneously they tried to get to know the new addition to the family.

It was easy to see that Damian didn't like Danny but it was equally easy to see that Danny could cow the boy like a border collie on a lamb. When Damian thew a dagger the teen caught it with one hand as it passed his face and then slid it across the table back to Damian.

"Try again. " Danny said "And this time don't aim to miss on purpose. If you want me dead you need to do better."

Damian put the knife away and huffed.

Tim and Danny hit it off almost instantly. The way they were able to bounce their thoughts back and forth made Tim believe that he found an equal.

Danny was able to understand Cassie immediately with just look in eachothers eyes like he was reading her mind but not in a creepy way.

Jason of course noticed the strange energy in the air around the kid. It was soothing. Like lavender wafting in the air. Well lavender for everyone else for him it was like opium. His eyes felt heavy like he had eaten a handful of poppy seeds. At the same time he felt full, like he had eating a full meal after starving for a week.

Whatever it is Damian was feeling it too. The demon looked even more his age as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. The crease in his brow gone.

Duke on the other hand was more on edge as his eyes flickered towards Danny before looking away. He had something he wanted to ask about the glowing boy but since no one can see it or just isn't saying anything he will keep quiet for now.

Next was Barbara who teased the new kid.

"So how do you like your new family? Ready to be the new robin?" She asked.

"Im robin." Damian mumbled groggily.

The others were waiting for Damian to finally fall asleep and glared at one another in a challenge to be the one to pick up Damian and put him to bed. Dick was winning.

Speaking of Dick, as expected he was off the wall excited to learn more about his new little brother. He wanted the full story as to why Bruce took him in. He could almost certainly guess it was because of a tragic situation and Dick was already ready to handle it as the greatest big brother ever and he wasn't sharing the title no matter what Barbara said. Even if she was Stephanie's favorite.

Bruce cleared his throat and the table went silent. "So, Danny. Where exactly did you come from? Why are you here? And how did you know who I am?"

Everyone went white. Did they all just risk their identities believing that Danny was a new Robin? Why didn't Bruce say something? Not even a signal for the protocol they would use.

Danny frowned looking a bit hurt.

"What do you mean, Bruce? You said you owed me. You said you'd give me anything I wanted if saved your son. I even helped you get back home when you got lost in time." Danny huffed feeling betrayed.

The table went silent.

Bruce made a few calculations in his brain before something must have come to mind. "I lost my memory for a bit so I need a bit of proof."

Danny placed a batarang on the table. The batarang had an engraving on it in a code that only Bruce knew.

"You told me to show this to Alfred when I came. We had a deal, Bruce. You promised me whatever I wanted." Danny huffed clearly insulted.

Just like Danny had said the code was the one Bruce had made. However this code wasn't a promise to grant a favor but to welcome someone new to the family. Past Bruce must have had plans to take the boy in but told Danny something else to lure him here.

Bruce recognized that everyone was right and he has a problem now that he's looking at it like this.

[thinkinonsense]

FANTASIZE❦

old!logan howlett x fem!reader

*mdni

cw: cursing, nsfw, age gap (reader is twenty-five)

wc: 1k+

a/n: i have no idea where this came from. i was supposed to be working on something completely different but apparently, this needed to be written first instead. yes it is inspired by the unreleased ariana grande song.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Logan couldn't read minds. He never longed for the ability or power; he was better off not knowing what others had going on in their heads. He only wanted to peek into someone's mind when he caught your twinkling eyes lingering in his direction. Luckily, he could still read your mind even without the mutation because your fantasies were written all over your face.

It was obvious to anyone caught in the same room as you and Logan, that there was tension. You burned holes all over his body with your intense gaze. If Logan was in the mood to entertain your little crush, he could compliment you in a way that was sure to make you blush.

"Good form today, kid."

"Lookin' pretty today, sweetheart."

"Lemme fix that lipstick, dollface." That one left you with an ache in between your thighs as his thumb brushed your lower lip. "Can't have you walkin' around here a mess, now can we?"

Logan wasn't sure if he would ever make it to heaven but seeing your lip tremble with need was close enough for him.

If he saw you in a dress with a pair of mary-jane's, he would try to catch a glimpse of your underwear in the reflection of your shoes. It didn't always work but it made him feel young again.

No one was brave enough to address it due to him being twice your age. Despite being twenty-five years old and already having graduated from the school, it was still considered taboo to some. If anyone asked Logan about it, he would brush it off as a schoolgirl crush that you would eventually grow out of.

It was truly harmless he thought. You got the attention you craved and Logan got to see a pretty young woman squirm in her seat because of him. It never went further than flirtatious comments and lingering stares.

❦

Today might be the worst day of your life. You and Logan were being sent out together on a mission to find a mutant that lived two hours away. It wasn't the mission that worried you; it was being stuck in a tiny car with only Logan for one hundred and twenty minutes.

"Why aren't 'cha talkin', dollface?" Logan asked, almost teasingly.

For almost twenty minutes, he was aware of your eyes watching his hand hold the wheel. Logan was also incredibly aware of the effect it had on you. A little broken sigh escapes you when his hand clenches tighter around the leather, making his veins pop even more.

"Too busy fantasizing 'bout me?"

No matter how much you tried to find someone your age to be with, your heart always went back to Logan. He treated you differently than anyone you've ever met. Sure, sometimes he made you feel like a kid but he also knew you could handle your own. Logan wouldn't let anyone underestimate you; that kept you crawling back to him.

"Maybe I am." You shrug, fed up with his games.

"Oh, yeah?" He says, taking a deep inhale of your sent. "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, hm?"

You were used to Logan's overly confident personality that he tried to use to intimidate you; and make you stumble over your words. It wasn't gonna work this time. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but you needed him to admit it first.

"Us in the backseat of the car." You admit, biting the inside of your cheek nervous for his response.

"Really? And what are we doing back there?" He asked, cocking his head curiously as his eyes remained glued to the road.

"You're on top of me, makin' me feel good." Your words were coy but that was the point. Logan liked being the tease; having all the power.

"Keep talkin', dollface."

There it was. You had him right where you wanted him.

You pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking your head and telling him, "No, I shouldn't"

"Why not?"

"Because an old man like yourself can't keep up with me, right? At least that's what I heard you tell the Professor."

Logan couldn't believe you had heard their conversation earlier this week. The Professor was the only person who knew the truth of how Logan felt towards you. When Charles asked him what was stopping him from pursuing you, all Logan had to say was, "I'm too old for her; can't keep up with such a young thing like her".

Which was far from the truth.

"So obsessed with me that you're listenin' to my conversations now?" He growled, pulling the car over.

"Stop acting like you aren't obsessed with me too." You smile at him. "I know a few pairs of my underwear 'mysteriously' disappear from my hamper. I know that you can hear me through the walls late at night, panting your name."

With each sentence, you inch closer to him. Logan could only compare you to the snake in Eve's garden; encouraging him to give into his temptations.

"I also know that you want me." Your eyes were dark with desire, making his pants tighter. "So, if you can't get it up or claim that you don't want me then that's fine with-"

Logan fumed with irritation and lust. Not thinking twice before slamming your lips into yours. He tasted exactly like you imagine; tobacco and mint. You were addicted; no one could ever compare to him.

In a rush, his rough hands pulled you into his inviting lap before one cupped your jaw and his other made its way up your skirt, toying with your lacy underwear. He wasn't going to give it to you that easily.

"L-Logan, please," You moan against his mouth, trying to create some friction on his lap. "Need it."

God, he's waited a long time to hear that; to see you so desperate in his arms. When he pulled back to look at you, Logan couldn't be more pleased with the image in front of him. Your eyes shut tightly, face scrunched, trying to concentrate, and lips pouty with annoyance. Logan removes his hand under your skirt; causing the prettiest whine to escape you. He thought you might be what finally kills him.

"We aren't done, sweetheart." He groaned in your ear. "Get in the backseat because you are gonna tell me every single one of your fuckin' fantasies."

[the-froschamethyst4]

Young Gf and Older bf

————

Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons

SFW & NSFW

————

————

SFW

Older bf! Simon who didn’t know how he felt about having a younger girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who was getting called “old man” by his girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who learned the hard way that some girls have expensive taste

Older bf! Simon who doesn’t talk much about his girlfriend to his mates, he feels like they’ll get on his ass about dating a young girl

Older bf! Simon who did most of the chores around the house

Older bf! Simon who stopped caring what he wore in front of people because his girlfriend is his little hype-man

“Does this work?” Simon asks coming into his shared bedroom with his girlfriend, she rolls on her side to look at him.

“They don’t match your shoes, Si.”

“What?” He looks down. “I thought they did.”

“Here, go try this on and come back at out.”

Older bf! Simon who told his girlfriend about his time in the military

Older bf! Simon who forget how young his girlfriend is, so when he makes jokes or says a movie reference she doesn’t know what he is talking about

Older bf! Simon who was honestly scared to meet his girlfriend’s family. She told them about Simon being older but not how old he was

“And how old are you, Simon?” Her dad asked leaning forward.

“I’m…40”

“40!!”

“Y/N?!”

“What?! He treats me good, he respects me, guys my age want that trad wife, Simon doesn’t, I can do or say what I want around him and feel good about myself.”

Older bf! Simon who knows everything about you. How you like your coffee, what time you’re suppose to be up for work, and he even knows when you’re about to start your period, you know when he shows up at home with bags full of pads and tampons and her favorite foods and drinks

Older bf! Simon who starts watching shows with you but complains about them but deep down he actually likes to watch them with his girlfriend

NSFW

Older bf! Simon who woke up to you in t-shirts and no shorts or pants, he likes seeing you in a t shirt and panties

Older bf! Simon who has woken up to morning wood before and needed help to get rid of it

“Love,” he kisses the shell of her ear. “Love…wake up,” he coos.

“Hmm~ Simon, not now please.”

“I know, love, you don’t have to do anything,” Simon lines himself up at her entrance and pushes himself into her

Older bf! Simon who like after argument sex

“Fuck you!”

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?” Simon carries a smirk on his face.

“Back up, Simon,” Y/n says putting her hand up on his chest to keep distance.

“Fuck me right? Fuck me?”

“Wait, wait,” your legs didn’t work for a few weeks

Older bf! Simon who tries different things with you, like BDSM you both hated it because it’ll be painful for you and Simon didn’t like you hurt

DDLG, he knows the age gap between you two but he hates the word ‘daddy’ makes him cringe

Mask kink, you both loved it, giving the illusion you were being fucked by someone else and he liked feelings your hands in his face

Voice kink, you liked it because of his deep voice already, he was on the fence, not saying your voice is annoying or anything he just didn’t get it

Knife play, you got scared when he accidentally dropped the knife and it was very close to your hand, it was the same thing with gun play you were afraid something wrong might happen

He tried to be a sub but you could barely take it seriously

Older bf! Simon who has fucked you when you were doing your work, you worked in a private office and all he had to do was shut and lock the door and bend you over your own desk

Older bf! Simon who is handsy when he’s horny

“Simon what do you want?”

“I want nothing,” he says as one of his hands were on your waste and the other snacks up to your breasts giving you a gentle squeeze and you gave him a soft moan.

“Just do it already, Simon,” she moans

Older bf! Simon who has kept a pair of your panties in his pockets and has forgotten about them before, he remembers when he accidentally sticks his hand into his pocket and feels the lace

Older bf! Simon who bought a motorcycle and takes you with him as his backpack, he found a abandoned place were no one comes to and you two had a good fuck on his bike