#only been two months and it was gruelling

[marbledmoonstone]

I'M MAKING A CALLOUT POST ON MY TUMBLR DOT COM.

DOLLAR GENERAL IS A SHIT ORGANIZATION AND ITS EMPLOYERS/MANAGERS ARE WORSE

[svtiddiess]

Show 'Em How It's Done

Synopsis: Everyone assumes Mingyu is the submissive one when it comes to bedroom activities, so he proves them wrong.

Pairing: non-idol!Mingyu x afab!reader

Genre: smut, oneshot, established relationship, non-idol! au

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, semi-public sex, exhibitionism? (they're in a different room but can still be heard), dom!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you so much to @seokgyuu and @okiedokrie for beta reading!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Your eyes light up as you see the cabin you're staying for the weekend come into view. Mingyu, your boyfriend, had planned this trip with his friend group—a much-needed escape to the woods. Thanks to Seungcheol's generous use of his credit card, they managed to rent a spacious and stunning cabin tucked away in nature.

At first, you assumed Mingyu wanted a boys-only weekend, but to your surprise, he was adamant that you join them. Despite your repeated refusals, he insisted this was the perfect chance for you to finally meet and get to know his closest friends. He also claimed that he'd be extremely sad and lonely if he spent an entire two days without you, a reason that made you snort. Eventually, you gave in, and Mingyu’s excitement over your agreement was downright infectious.

After a gruelling four-hour drive, you sigh and stretch, glad to finally move your stiff limbs. Your gaze shifts to Mingyu, who’s focused on reverse parking with one hand resting on the back of your seat. Your cheeks heat up—it’s ridiculous how even after six months together, he still makes your heart flutter over something so simple. But really, who could blame you? It's not your fault your boyfriend is so hot.

"Thanks for driving, my Mingoo," you say with a smile, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

"You missed," he pouts, tapping his lips with his finger.

Laughing, you lean in for a quick peck, but before you can pull away, Mingyu places a hand on the back of your head and deepens the kiss. A surprised squeak escapes you, followed by soft giggles against his lips.

"Did you really think I’d let you off the hook with that weak excuse of a kiss?" He teases, his grin playful.

"You’re such a baby," you huff, rolling your eyes.

"Your baby," he counters smugly.

Still chuckling, you climb out of the car and stretch again as Mingyu unloads your luggage. Your jaw drops as you take in the sight of the large cabin before you. It’s impressive—definitely worth thanking Seungcheol for later.

"Looks like some of them are already here," Mingyu says, nodding toward the other cars parked nearby.

Suddenly, the realisation hits that you’ll be meeting most of his friends for the first time, and nerves start to bubble up. You’ve met Seungcheol and Wonwoo before, but this will be your first encounter with the entire group. Mingyu has been close with them since high school, and despite going their separate ways for college and work, their bond has remained rock-solid.

Sensing your unease, Mingyu sets down the bags and walks over to you. He takes your hand, his touch steady and comforting, and flashes you a reassuring smile.

"Don’t stress, babe. They’re going to love you. I promise," he says softly.

"But what if I embarrass myself? What if the first impression I give them is of me being a total idiot?" you groan, your palms growing clammy.

Mingyu chuckles, shaking his head. "Babe, trust me. You can’t out-dumbass them. They’re the biggest idiots I know," he says with a laugh. "So relax, okay? You’ve got nothing to worry about."

His words, paired with the kiss he plants on your forehead, manage to soothe your nerves a little. You sigh, nodding reluctantly. Mingyu squeezes your hand one last time before returning to the luggage. Taking a deep breath, you follow him inside, determined to make the best of the weekend.

Getting to know Mingyu’s friend group has been…an experience, to say the least. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were idiots but in the best possible way. They’re warm, welcoming, and a little chaotic—a combination that instantly makes you feel at ease. In fact, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin even "initiated" you into their inner circle. You’ve officially become one of the boys.

Right now, the entire group is sprawled across the living room, all varying levels of drunk, playing games. You’re sitting on the floor between Mingyu and Vernon, caught up in a lively game of Truth or Dare. Currently, Jeonghan has dared Joshua to get slapped in the face with kimchi, and to everyone’s delight, Joshua actually went through with it.

You’re doubled over, clutching your stomach in laughter, tears streaming down your face as Joshua wipes kimchi off his cheek with an exasperated expression. Jeonghan, of course, looks beyond pleased with himself.

It’s Soonyoung’s turn next, and judging by the mischievous glint in his eyes and his unsteady giggles, the alcohol is fully in charge now. He spins toward Mingyu with a maniacal grin.

"So, Gyu. Truth or dare?" he asks, practically bouncing in place.

Mingyu, who’s only slightly tipsy, shakes his head with a laugh. "Truth. I’m not risking anything."

"Boo!" Soonyoung pouts dramatically, earning exaggerated groans of disappointment from the rest of the group.

"Buzzkill!" Seokmin calls out from the couch.

"I’d rather not get kimchi-slapped by Jeonghan," Mingyu quips, casting a wary glance at Jeonghan.

"Hey, it’s an enlightening experience," Joshua deadpans, still dabbing his face with a tissue. Jeonghan simply laughs.

Soonyoung suddenly gasps, his eyes wide as if he’s just discovered the secret to the universe. "Oh my God, I got it!" he shouts, his grin downright unhinged. "Gyu, is it true that you’re the submissive one in the bedroom?!"

Your jaw drops. The room instantly explodes with laughter.

"W-What?!" Mingyu stammers, his brows furrowing in shock.

"You heard me!" Soonyoung giggles. "You’re the submissive one, aren’t you?"

Mingyu scoffs, shaking his head. "I’m not."

"Aw, come on, Gyu. Don’t be shy about it," Jeonghan teases, his grin only fueling the chaos. The laughter around you grows louder.

Your face burns as the conversation continues, the guys piling on the teasing with no mercy.

"Guys, seriously, can we not?" Mingyu whines, clearly flustered.

"Not until you admit it!" Seungcheol grins, leaning forward with mock intensity.

"It’s true, right, Y/N? Mingyu’s the submissive one in the bedroom, isn’t he?" Seungkwan chimes in, his laughter contagious.

Your cheeks heat up even more, and you hide your face in your hands, which only makes them laugh harder.

"No need to be shy, Y/N. We all know Gyu’s a massive simp for you—in and out of the bedroom," Joshua says with a wink.

You giggle softly, finally giving in. "Well…he is a huge simp for me."

The room erupts into chaos, everyone howling with laughter.

"She admitted it!" Soonyoung screams, practically rolling on the floor.

"So it’s true! He is submissive!" Jun adds, laughing so hard he has to wipe his eyes.

"I knew it!" Chan chimes in, grinning from ear to ear.

Mingyu groans, his face buried in his hands. "Babe~," he whines, looking at you with a pout.

You offer him an apologetic smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. "Sorry," you murmur, trying to stifle a laugh.

Mingyu grumbles and pouts as the rest of the boys continue to roar with laughter.

The game carries on, but you notice your beer is empty. Announcing to the group that you’re heading to the kitchen to grab more, you stand up and make your way into the next room, separated from the living area by a wall.

You open the fridge and grab a bottle, then reach for the kitchen drawer to find a bottle opener—only to discover it’s missing. With a quiet grumble, you crouch down to check the lower drawers, rummaging through them in hopes of finding what you need.

That’s when you feel it—a presence behind you, someone pressing up against your back. You gasp softly and straighten up quickly, attempting to turn around, but the person behind you cages you in, their arms trapping you against the counter.

"So… it’s true, huh? That I’m the submissive one?" Mingyu’s voice is low as he whispers in your ear.

Relief washes over you when you realise it’s just your boyfriend. Letting out a soft laugh, you shake your head. "Gyu, they were just messing with you," you say, amused at how hung up he still is on the topic.

"But you didn’t deny it," he murmurs, his voice tinged with mock offence. "You told them I’m a simp for you."

"That’s because you are a simp for me," you tease, glancing at him over your shoulder.

"I am," he admits, his tone unashamed as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’m definitely not the submissive one."

Before you can respond, Mingyu rolls his hips against you, his movement deliberate. The sudden sensation draws a surprised gasp from your lips.

"Right, babe?" he teases, and you can feel the smug grin spreading across his face as he continues his little game.

You bite your bottom lip, your body warming under his touch as he grinds against you, the growing pressure unmistakable. "Gyu, not here," you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. "They’ll hear us."

"That’s the whole point, sweetheart," he purrs, his voice dripping with mischief.

"Fuck, Gyu," a soft whimper escapes your lips at a particularly hard grind, causing Mingyu to chuckle.

"What if I just bend you over and fuck you right here? You would like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" He chuckles.

"Gyu, I-" A loud moan escapes your lips, and you quickly bite your lip to prevent any more sounds from escaping.

Grabbing your hips, Mingyu starts guiding your hips against his, pushing your ass against his hard cock. You feel your mind start to get fuzzy as you feel how hard he has become.

"Beg for it, sweetheart. Beg for me to ruin you with my cock," he purrs in your ear.

"Gyu, please… I need it," you whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat.

"Need what, babe?" he asks, his tone playful, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. Your soft whine only makes his grin widen.

"Need you to ruin me with your cock," you mumble.

"Good girl," he whispers before placing a kiss on the shell of your ear.

Without warning, he bends you over the kitchen counter; a yelp escapes your lips as your cheeks make contact with the cold marble. A slow, teasing hand runs down your back, leaving goosebumps in its trail; you can't help but let out a small whine of frustration, eliciting a chuckle from Mingyu.

"So impatient," he smirks as he slaps your ass, drawing a gasp from you.

He unbuckles your pants, and you help him shimmy it off of you, shivering as the cold air nips at your bare legs. He hums as he rubs a finger on your panty-clad pussy, making you whimper.

"So wet already?" he teases with a low chuckle, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Gyu, please," you plead, your voice trembling with desperation, unable to endure his relentless teasing any longer.

"Admit it," he growls softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "Admit that you're the submissive one in bed."

"I'm the submissive one in bed," you cry out, your cheeks burning. "Now, please, just fuck me already!"

Laughing at your impatience, Mingyu slaps your pussy, making you mewl as a sharp wave of pain and pleasure wash over you.

"Such a good girl. My good girl," he growls before unbuckling his pants and slipping out his cock.

Moving your panties to the side, he teases you by rubbing his dick against your folds, coating the tip with your juices. Desperate to feel him, you arch your hips back, seeking more, but Mingyu firmly holds you in place, pressing you tightly against the counter with ease. You let out a frustrated whine, wiggling your hips in a futile attempt to gain some control, but Mingyu’s strength easily overpowers you. Helpless under his grip, you surrender, letting him take the lead like the good girl he knows you are.

He spits on his cock, using it as lube, and gives it a few pumps before slowly inserting it into your tight hole. Your eyes roll back, and your mouth goes agape as you finally feel his cock inside you; his cock stretching you out deliciously. Mingyu's big, the biggest you've ever had, so every time he fucks you, it feels like the first.

Grunts escape his lips as he tries to restrain himself from slamming into you; you feel so good wrapped around him. A choked whimper escapes your lips when you feel his tip kiss your cervix. He pulls out halfway before slamming back into you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Without hesitation, Mingyu picks up the pace; each thrust rough and relentless. Broken moans and soft whimpers spill from your lips, your mind too clouded with pleasure to focus on anything but the way he fills you so perfectly.

"That's right, sweetheart," he purrs against your ear, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Be loud. Let everyone know how good I’m making you feel."

"G-Gyu," you manage to moan, your voice trembling. "S-so good… feels so good."

"Only I can make you feel this good, isn’t that right, sweetheart?" he growls, his voice rough with possession. One hand moves to grip your neck, holding you firmly in place, while the other steadies your hips.

"Yes! You—only you!" you cry out, your voice shaky as the overwhelming pleasure pushes you closer to the edge.

"Gyu, I'm so close! Please—please, please!" you beg, your words tumbling out in desperate sobs as you plead for release.

The hand holding your hips shifts to circle your clit with precision, and you scream out his name. The knot in your stomach finally unravels, and your vision blurs as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Pleasure ripples through your body, leaving you breathless as you chant his name like a prayer. Mingyu doesn't let up, his movements steady as he thrusts into you, guiding you through the intensity of your release. After a few more thrusts, he cums inside you, filling you up; your fluids mixing together.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing. Slowly, he slides out, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the sensation. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he adjusts your panties back into place. You cringe slightly, feeling the fabric cling uncomfortably to your skin.

"Keep my cum in you; I'll make sure to fuck it back into you later," he purrs, making you blush.

He helps you stand and gently guides you back into your pants before slipping into his own clothes. Running his fingers through your messy hair, he smooths it down before wiping away any drool and sweat from your face. Then, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. You smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. When he pulls back, he nuzzles your nose with his, drawing a soft giggle from you.

"Ready to head back?" he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate.

You nod, grabbing your now lukewarm beer before following him back into the living room.

"Did we miss anything?" Mingyu asks casually as he takes a seat, acting as if he didn't just fuck your brains out a few minutes before.

"N-Nothing, you missed nothing," Soonyoung stammers, awkwardly clearing his throat as he tries to hide his very obvious boner.

Your gaze sweeps across the room, and you realise the rest of them are just as flustered, each one failing miserably to hide their boners. You burst into laughter at their awkward state, and Mingyu joins in, clearly enjoying the moment.

With a smug grin, Mingyu looks around at his friends before cupping your face and pulling you in for a deep, possessive kiss. The room fills with groans and exaggerated complaints.

"Get a room!" someone yells, earning more laughter from the both of you.

You giggle into the kiss, relishing the playful teasing, while Mingyu smirks against your lips, clearly pleased to have proven their earlier jabs entirely wrong.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @tomodachiii @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo

[hargreeves-duncan]

Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too

a/n: hi, thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!

summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.

warnings: reader works at a casino but there’s no actual gambling so🤷‍♀️

word count: 1.4k

You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.

The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them. 

Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.

There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.

You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.

The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.

It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.

As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”

Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”

She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”

Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”

The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.

A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.

Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”

Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.

When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”

Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.

Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.

Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”

Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.

You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”

Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.

Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“

The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.

“Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.

God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.

Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”

His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”

You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.

After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”

Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.

He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”

It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

WAITING AIN’T EASY

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after 6 gruelling months of long distance with drew, y/n decides to surprise him on set. listen to ‘waiting ain’t easy’ — Evan Honer!!

based on this ask !! i really hope you enjoy my lovely :) amazing ask as always !! i made a little twist on it though, and added some angsty goodness to make it more emotional <3

WARNINGS: angst to fluff, fighting, crying, mentions of breaking up, long distance relationship, like one (?) curse word, brief mention of cheating rumours (made by the media) and i think that’s it? (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N stared out at the crashing waves outside her beachfront rental in Australia, the sun dipping low in a painted sky of reds and golds. Normally, she would've snapped a picture to send Drew, knowing how much he loved sunsets. But tonight, her phone sat abandoned on the kitchen counter, vibrating occasionally with notifications she couldn't bring herself to check.

It had been nearly six months since she'd left for Australia to film her new movie, a dream opportunity that she'd accepted with boundless enthusiasm. Drew had been so supportive at first, kissing her forehead and promising her they'd figure it out. "Eight months will fly by," he'd said. "We'll make it work." And for a while, they had.

The first few months had been manageable—late-night FaceTime calls, text messages scattered throughout the day, photos exchanged to make each other smile. But as the weeks turned into months, the strain started to show. The time difference, their conflicting schedules, and the exhaustion from their respective work had turned their once-effortless connection into something fragmented and brittle.

And then there were the rumors.

The first article had popped up about a month ago, with pictures of Y/N and her co-star, Paul Mescal, leaving a restaurant. They'd been with a group of castmates, but the tabloids didn't care about context. The angle made it look intimate, as if the two of them had been alone. Headlines screamed: "New Flame on Set?" and "Trouble in Paradise for Drew Starkey and Y/N?"

Drew hadn't believed the rumors—not really. He knew how tabloids worked. But the seed of doubt had been planted. Their conversations became laced with tension. "Why didn't you tell me you were going out?" Drew had asked one night, his voice tight.

"I didn't think I had to give you a play-by-play of my day," she'd snapped, the exhaustion from a grueling shoot making her sharper than she intended.

"I'm not asking for a play-by-play, Y/N. I just want to know what's going on in your life. Is that too much to ask?"

The fight spiraled from there, unresolved, and left a bitter taste that lingered.

Tonight, their most recent argument had pushed them to a breaking point.

She answered the phone after his third call, her voice strained. "Hey."

"Hey," Drew replied, the weight of unspoken words heavy in the silence that followed.

"I'm sorry I didn't call earlier," she began, trying to preempt his frustration. "I got caught up on set, and—"

"Y/N, you always get caught up on set," Drew interrupted, his tone clipped. "I'm starting to feel like I'm not a priority anymore."

Her heart sank. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it? Because it feels like I'm the only one trying here."

"Trying?" she repeated, her voice rising. "Drew, do you know how hard this has been for me too? I miss you every single day, but I can't just drop everything to cater to your insecurities."

"Insecurities?" he echoed, incredulous. "You're calling me insecure because I want to spend more than five minutes talking to my girlfriend? Because I'm tired of feeling like I'm the last thing on your mind?"

"Don't do this," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Don't twist this into something it's not."

"Then tell me what it is, Y/N," he shot back. "Because right now, it feels like we're falling apart."

Her throat tightened. "Maybe we are," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Drew exhaled shakily on the other end of the line. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore," she admitted, tears streaming down her face. "This... this isn't what I thought it would be. I didn't think it would hurt this much."

"You think I don't hurt too?" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "You think I don't lie awake every night wishing you were here? That I don't feel like I'm losing my mind wondering if this is worth it anymore?"

Her chest tightened painfully, but she couldn't find the words to soothe him. To soothe herself. The weight of their love—their pain—pressed down on her like a crushing wave.

"I can't do this right now," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Drew said bitterly, "of course you can't."

And then the line went dead.

Y/N stared at the screen, her hand trembling as the call ended. She wanted to call him back, to take it all back, but the words hung in the air between them, too heavy to ignore.

Halfway across the world in Charleston, Drew sat in his apartment, his phone clutched in his hand. He stared at the empty screen, the echo of their fight replaying in his mind. The silence in the room was deafening, the loneliness suffocating.

They were both alone, yet they'd never felt further apart.

—

Drew sat on set, legs stretched out as he leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. The day had been slow, and while he loved working on Outer Banks, his mind wasn't fully there. It hadn't been for weeks. The weight of his argument with Y/N lingered, the harsh words and silence that followed gnawing at him.

He sighed, locking his phone and tossing it onto the nearby table. The OBX cast was scattered around the set, some chatting, others grabbing snacks. Madelyn, Madison and Carlacia were huddled together near the craft services table, giggling about something. Their sudden burst of laughter caught Drew's attention.

"What's so funny?" he called out, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing!" Madison replied quickly, a little too quickly. She nudged Carlacia, who bit her lip to stifle another laugh.

Suspicious, Drew tilted his head but didn't press further. He wasn't in the mood for their antics today. As much as he loved his friends, all he really wanted was Y/N. Six months apart felt like an eternity, and knowing they still had two more months to go made the ache in his chest worse.

What he didn't know was that Y/N was only minutes away.

Y/N stepped off the plane, her heart pounding as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. She had managed to keep the wrap of her film a secret from Drew, wanting to surprise him in the best way possible. It hadn't been easy; she'd had to bite her tongue during their rare phone calls and carefully avoid social media posts that might tip him off.

Madelyn, Madison and Carlacia had been the first people she told about her plan, and they had been more than happy to help. When she landed, they were waiting for her, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You ready to blow his mind?" Madelyn asked, grinning as she pulled Y/N into a hug.

"I've never been more ready," Y/N said, her nerves and excitement warring within her.

Carlacia held up her phone, ready to document everything. "Okay, we've got this all planned. He's sitting in the main lounge area. You just walk in, and we'll follow behind you."

Y/N nodded, exhaling shakily. "Let's do this."

Back on set, Drew was oblivious. The girls had disappeared somewhere, but he didn't think much of it. They were always running off to do their own thing. He leaned forward, rubbing his hands over his face as exhaustion crept in.

The sound of footsteps approaching barely registered until he heard a familiar voice, soft and hesitant.

"Hey, Starkey."

Drew's head whipped around so fast that his chair tipped backward, clattering to the floor. He stumbled to his feet, his heart racing as his eyes locked on her.

"Y/N?" His voice cracked, disbelief written all over his face.

Before she could say another word, Drew launched himself toward her, nearly tripping over his fallen chair in his haste. He reached her in seconds, his arms wrapping tightly around her as he lifted her off the ground.

"Y/N," he choked out, his voice breaking as he buried his face in her shoulder.

She clung to him just as tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Hi, baby," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Drew pulled back just enough to look at her, his face streaked with tears. "You're here? How are you here? I thought—"

"My shoot wrapped early," she interrupted, laughing through her tears. "I wanted to surprise you."

Drew didn't hesitate. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss so full of love and longing that it made Y/N's knees weak. Around them, the cast erupted in exaggerated groans and laughter.

"Get a room!" Rudy teased, shielding his eyes dramatically.

"Y'all are gonna make me cry," Carlacia joked, still filming the entire moment.

When Drew finally pulled away, his forehead rested against Y/N's, his tears falling freely now. "God, I missed you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I missed you so fucking much."

"I missed you too," Y/N said, her hands cupping his face as she brushed away his tears. "I'm so sorry, Drew. For everything. For the fight, for the silence. I hated it. I hated being apart from you."

"Me too," Drew admitted, his voice cracking again. "I was so scared, Y/N. Scared I was losing you."

"Never," she said firmly. "I was scared too, but I never stopped loving you. Not for a second."

Drew let out a shaky laugh, his arms tightening around her as if he were afraid she might disappear. "Waiting ain't easy," he said softly, his eyes searching hers, "but it's worth it for you. Always."

Y/N felt fresh tears well up as she kissed him again, pouring every ounce of love and reassurance she had into it. When they finally broke apart, the cast was clapping and cheering, much to Drew's embarrassment.

"Alright, alright, show's over," Drew said, his cheeks flushed as he waved them off. But he couldn't stop smiling, and his hand never left Y/N's.

Carlacia walked up, showing them the video she had taken. "You two are gonna want this later. It's a tearjerker."

Drew chuckled, pulling Y/N closer. "Thanks, Laci."

As the cast gave them some space, Drew turned to Y/N, his eyes still glistening. "You're really here," he said again, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"I'm here," she confirmed, her smile soft. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Drew's expression softened, his love for her radiating in his gaze. "Good. Because I don't ever want to do this without you again."

They spent the rest of the day glued to each other, catching up, apologising, and soaking in every second of finally being together again.

For the first time in six months, everything felt right.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such an adorable one to write :’) i love writing hurt/comfort, it’s just my absolute fave genre of ff !! i really hope you enjoy this @xoxosblogsblog <3

[fandom-puff]

Fulfilling Duty

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Reader

Warnings: smut, pinv sex, fingering, reference to pregnancy and childbirth, brief reference to death during childbirth, reference to prostitution, implied arranged marriage, breeding kink, body image issues, implied innocence kink, older man/younger woman.

Italics indicate flashback

Gif creds to owner

After nine long months of pregnancy and two gruelling days of labour, Tywin Lannister finally had the son he craved. Little Darrick was perfect in every way. At almost four months, he guzzled his milk the way King Robert his guzzled his wine; he roared like a lion when something was amiss, fat angry tears pouring down his reddened little face until his mother or father consoled him; his hair thickened and lightened every day, though he showed no trace of Lannister emerald eyes (much you your elation; he already looked so much like Tywin so it was nice to see a shred of yourself in your son’s face).

The birth of your son only strengthened Tywin’s… affection towards you. It was not love- not yet at least- but his respect and fondness certainly grew. During the home stretch of your labour he had barged into the birthing room after overhearing an outspoken courtier’s gossip.

Your labour had dragged on and almost two whole days had passed since you first started having pains. While you had started in relatively high spirits, as progress began to falter almost to a halt and ‘one more push’ became an empty promise, your resolve almost completely shattered.

What had started as determined groans and howls of pain turned into whimpers, and then sobs as you begged the maester to just, please, get it out of you.

It seemed Tywin hadn’t unclenched his jaw for days, and while he wanted to remain just a room away in his office should he be called into the room, the Seven Kingdoms would not stop for any infant, not even the son of the Hand.

He had been walking back from an audience with disgruntled artisans from the city when he overheard some courtiers.

“… glad she’s shut up with the screaming, could hardly sleep a wink last night…”

“… should just cut her open, drag the babe out and have done with it… wouldn’t be the first Lannister woman to die in childbed…”

“… he’ll want another off her, just in case… especially if she gives him a girl…”

Tywin’s nostrils flared with rage, and while he would have so dearly loved to confront the gossiping courtiers, he marched to the tower of the hand, entering your chamber to the shock of your midwives and maester.

“Milord! Women’s work is still happening! The baby ain’t here yet,” scolded Jeyne. She was the eldest of the flock midwives attending you and the most experienced too, and had been crucial in supporting you.

Tywin held up his hand, and jeyne pursed her lips, knowing she could not argue. “Fine. But you’re not to interfere down here, milord. We’re nearly there,”

“You said that- ah- last night,” you said weakly, your voice shaky. Tywin sighed softly and knelt at your side, pushing your hair away from your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture, one that he had done when you consummated your marriage. “‘M sorry, m-my lord,” you whispered, unable to stop the tears from slipping down your already damp cheeks.

“You needn’t be,” he said lowly, speaking so only you could hear. “You are doing well, just a little longer,”

Although the midwives and maester had repeated the same words over and over again over the last day, Tywin’s firm, authoritative voice reassured you, renewing your determination.

Tywin’s eyes flicked sideways to you. It was the first public event you had attended since giving birth, and he had kept a close eye on you all day. He’d even insisted on your retiring to bed for several hours in between the joust and the feast (“fine, I’ll rest. But only because I didn’t want to watch the archery anyway,”).

If you were tired, it did not show. You looked radiant, smiling serenely as you clapped for the dancing. You had changed into a gown of soft pink brocade, and while he always preferred to have you on his arm in matching Lannister red, he had to admit that the muted pink suited you beautifully, and provided a fresh and youthful contrast to his daughter’s sour, almost vulgar even by his standards, display of power.

“If you continue to glance at me so, you will miss the dancing, husband,” you said out of the corner of your mouth, bemused at the almost uncharacteristic attentiveness of the Old Lion.

“Then I shall miss the dancing,” he said lowly, though he kept his eyes dutifully on the entertainments. “Are you sure you will not sit?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him fully. “No,” you said with exasperation. “I am well rested, I promise you, My Lord,” your lips quirked into a smirk. “I may even join in with the dancing,” you added.

Tywins jaw clenched as he looked down at his mischievous young wife. Your pregnancy and subsequent birthing of a viable heir for him had consolidated your power in court- and your worth in the marriage. “Then you shall dance only with me,” he said. “I will not have you jostled so,”

And so the Lord Paramount of the West took his wife by the hand and led her to the dance floor, lest she be manhandled by less careful members of court.

Grinning, you held onto his hand, beginning the steps that you had known since childhood. “I so love it when you give in to my whims, Lord Lannister,” you murmured, laughing lightly at his grumble of agreement. He supposed he owed you a fair bit, now that you had given him his heir.

“You are as stubborn as a mule when you want to be, wife,” he muttered, pulling you closer to his body by the waist as a drunken jester weaved through the crowd, his motley cap jingling. But despite his complaints, Tywin permitted you two more dances, before you retreated from the crowd- the bawdy songs had began, and he would not have his wife passed about like the maidens in the songs.

Instead of sitting back down, Tywin took you before the king, bowing and excusing the two of you. “We must retire for the night, your Grace. Lady Lannister is very tired,” he said shortly, bowing once more as the king waved you away.

You followed him, your face indignant, but you did not dare question him until you were out of earshot of any high lords. “I most certainly am not tired, My Lord,” you said, running a little to keep up with his long strides. “I do not need to be bundled off to bed like a child- again,”

Tywin ignored your complaints, only speaking once you arrived at the entrance to the Tower- and even then he only spoke to the guard at the door. “No one is to enter this tower until tomorrow,” he said lowly, before all but frog-marching you through the door and up the winding stairs.

“My lord?” You asked cautiously when you arrived at his chambers. “Have I displeased you?”

Tywin turned around to face you. “No, wife,” he murmured, stepping closer to you so that you had to look up at him. “You have not displeased me… exasperated, perhaps, but not displeased,” you smiled slightly, opening your mouth to speak, but Tywin cupped your head with both of his hands, his thumbs stroking your jaw. “I intend to bed you tonight, My Lady,” he said, voice gravelly. Your face heated, but you nodded slowly. “Your body should be ready to take me once more,” he continued. “That is if you are agreeable?” He added, raising a brow. He had laid out from the beginning that while he expected you to do your duty and provide him with a son, he would not have you in his bed unwilling.

Nodding slowly, eyes wide as you stared up at him, you let out a shaky breath. "I… yes. Please," you murmured your consent, following him out of the solar to his adjoining bedchamber, where the hearth was crackling and the luxurious bedsheets were already turned down. Tywin poured out a cup of wine, offering you it, nodding when you smiled at the vintage before finishing the cup for you.

“Do you think it will hurt?” You murmured out of the blue, taking your jewellery off and setting it on his dresser.

“It may be a little uncomfortable, perhaps. Not as painful as childbirth, I’m sure, nor breaking your maidenhead,” your eyes widened at his words and he smirked. He so loved to see you flustered. “Such an innocent, wife,” he said, stepping closer to you and undoing the pins in your hair. He nodded his approval when you unwound the braids, shaking out your hair.

“It has been a while…” you considered, looking up at him in the mirror as he stepped behind you, beginning to unlace your gown.

“It has,” he said in agreement.

“Will you be gentle with me?” You whispered, eyes widening as his hand slipped up your front, over your breasts, lightly squeezing your throat before he tilted your head to the side.

“Absolutely not,” he growled into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing there as your gown fell stiffly to the floor.

You made to turn to begin undressing him, but he lightly batted your hands away, continuing to strip you of your stays and chemise until you were bare before him.

Eyes downcast, you made to wrap your arms around yourself; your pregnancy had left it’s mark on your body, your belly soft and marked with stretch marks, your breasts hanging heavier than they had when you first married. Tywin held your hands by your sides briefly, before his large hands claimed your hips, his thumbs massaging the softness of your belly. “I want another babe in your belly before year’s end,” he said lowly, making you shiver. “I want to watch you swell again with another of my heirs,”

“Yes, my lord,” you breathed, your breath hitching as he gripped your hips tighter, drawing your naked body to his, your skin hot against the cool metalwork of his belt and buttons. Slowly, he began to walk you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and he helped you up onto the mattress, his eyes blazing with lust. His green-gold eyes pierced you as he removed his chain of linked golden hands, his doublet, his boots and trousers too. Your eyes flicked down briefly as you admired your husband’s build; despite his age, Tywin was fit and strong, and your glance did not go unnoticed by him.

Tywin got up onto the bed, looking down at you as he came up between your legs, which fell apart willingly to allocate his breadth, to which he hummed with approval, his hands dragging up your thighs. You sighed softly as your body refamiliarised itself with the weight atop it, offering him a soft, shy smile. He returned it with a rare quirk of his lips, before his fingers teased closer to your exposed core, shushing you gently when you gasped. Whimpering, you arched your back as he dipped his fingers into your waiting wetness, body tense. “Are you in pain, wife?” He said lowly, his movements stilling.

“No…” you whispered, pushing your hips up to his hand as if to reassure him.

He nodded, looking down at you as his fingers worked you open for the first time in months, though he did not seem out of practice in the slightest. He watched intently as your face contorted, brow furrowing and mouth falling open, and your body twisted while you clenched around his fingers. When he felt the erotic spasming of your inner walls, he nodded and hummed with satisfaction, before withdrawing his fingers. You watched in awe as he used your release coating his fingers and dripping onto his palm to slick up his cock.

“You look as though you belong in a pleasure house in Lys, spread out like that,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. And he had a point; your breasts rose and fell with shaky, heavy breaths; your eyes were now dark with lust, brow furrowed and lips plump as you stared down at him, propped up on the pillows with your hair splayed out.

“Are you calling me a whore, My Lord?” You questioned, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“No,” he said, guiding his cock to you. “But if you were a whore, you would be mine alone,”

He grunted, pushing into your tightness. With a cry, you tossed your head back, your nails clawing into the Lion of Lannister’s muscled back and arms as you adjusted to his invasion. You hissed out a curse between your teeth, gasping as he stilled, smirking down at you. “Such deplorable language,” he said, and you could only whimper in response, gritting your teeth and scratching at his back. Despite his promise to not be gentle with you, he held you tight to his body by your thigh, massaging the quivering limb with his hand as you adjusted to the suffocating tightness of your union. With a needy whine, you rolled your hips experimentally, grinding your clit against his pubis. The resulting tightening of your channel had him hissing in pleasure, and with a low groan he began to move with slow deep thrusts that had your head spinning.

One hand still gripping his bicep like a vice, you trailed your other hand over his shoulder anchoring yourself as you made feeble attempts to meet his movements. Grunting, Tywin grasped onto your hips, before moving his grip to your thighs, holding them apart as he began to fuck you harder, faster. You cried out at the shift in pace, arching your back as Lord Tywin took his pleasure (though he gave just as much as he took). He let out a groan of pleasure as his own thighs trembled and his hips stuttered, and he emptied his seed into you.

Moaning lowly, you fell back into the pillows, panting. You felt the bed dip then settle as he withdrew from you and stood, and your eyes slipped shut as you heard him rustling about the room, the door slamming shut. You frowned. He must have dressed quickly. With a sigh, you stood up, albeit shakily and slipped your chemise back on. His thick seed seeped down your thigh as you stood before the mirror, combing out the tangles in your hair with your fingers.

The door opened, and Tywin stepped into the room, but before he acknowledged you, he turned to what you assumed was his squire. “Have the servants bring up two plates from the feast, and a flagon of Arbor Gold,” he said to the lad, who responded with a quiet ‘yes, My Lord.’ “And see to it that Lady Lannister’s handmaidens know to come here on the morrow with her gown and jewels. She will be staying here tonight,”

He dismissed the squire with a nod and shut the door, turning to you with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to return to my own chambers, my Lord,” you murmured, finally able to smooth your hair down over your shoulders.

“Indeed not,” he said simply. “I was merely arranging some supper and wine,”

You crossed your arms. “And for my handmaidens to come here on the morrow?” You teased.

Tywin only smirked, prowling over to you. “Indeed,” he said. “It would seem, wife, that we must return to bed…” you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him curiously. “An heir will not find its way into your belly if my seed is dripping down your thighs, now, will it?”

[jasmines-library]

May I ask for platonic batboys x paramedic reader? The reader works the night shift, so they meet each other pretty often when dealing with criminals as she and her colleagues are doing damage control. They share gossip and find the best all night diners. Sometimes, if they're in trouble and too far from home, they can usually find her in her house.

In short can I just have some fluff of batfam with a civilian friend?

This is my first time requesting anything, plase forgive me if it's a little vague as English isn't really my first language.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: hi hi hi. Before I start anon I just want to say thank you so much for waiting patiently. You requested this like two months ago and i've been so busy that i've only just got around to writing it. Thanks so much for being awesome. This idea is so cute. I also hope that HCs are okay, I really wanted to write this for you quickly (although im not really sure i can call it quick after how long it took me to get round to it) p.s your English is perfect!

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

The first time you met the boys, it was almost like fate. You instantly clicked.

Like usual you were working the night shift; a shift usually expected to be long and gruelling. But never in city like Gotham.

You had received the call from GCPD, but that wasn't uncommon.

They were dealing with some criminals in the city centre and some bystanders had got caught in the crossfire and needed medical attention.

Again, not unusual. You were a paramedic after all.

What was unusual was the gaggle of masked vigilantes milling around the scene. Not one, but four.

Usually they would have fled by now; moved on to solving crime in another part of the city, but the night was slow and so they were there to help.

Though, I would use the term 'help' loosely. They spent more time getting in the way as they tried to help.

Especially the small one, who you later learned was Damian.

You saw them more often after that.

Weather it was fate working her strange magic or weather it was the fact that you found yourself actively seeking out a swish of their capes.

They were a good laugh; witty and unafraid to tell you what they think.

If nights were slow, you would wander round the streets together, trying out all of the different diners that claimed to have the best pie in the city, but were really just as shit as the next ones.

As your relationships between the vigilantes grew and you came to know them more personally, they would often come to you for help.

Gunshot wound to the shoulder? Jason would be tapping on your window as he pleaded that you would let him in before dripping blood all over your carpet.

Feeling nauseous? Dick would be at your door with a list of his symptoms.

They grew to trust you to help them, and you were glad to do so.

(Although, you would be less than pleased when they show up on your doorstep at two in the morning on your day off)

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ proglogue

note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.

warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers

ao3

【next】

it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.

clearly, you'd been too optimistic.

which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order,  whether you were in the field or not.

the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met – he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.

the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.

before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.

and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.

but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.

you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.

"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."

"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."

"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."

"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"

"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."

"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."

their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?

as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.

“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”

"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.

"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.

price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.

soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."

you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.

you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.

"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."

you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.

"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.

before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.

✹✹✹

you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.

either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.

"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.

"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.

"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.

"right."

neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.

after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.

"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.

"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.

"alright, he can be difficult–"

"really?"

"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"

"is he gonna give me a chance?" 

"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"

"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.

"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"

"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.

it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.

you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.

there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.

living room's yours. lock the door. – s

it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.

with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.

[my-darling-boy]

(TW injury description)

I am SO glad you asked I lose my mind over this man. Sidney Beldam! He’s most known for his miraculous recovery from a major facial injury sustained while he served as a young sergeant in the First World War. If you’ve read the Facemaker by Lindsay Fitzharris you might recognise him! Sources differ slightly about his story, so I’ve pieced it together as best I could. The photos below were from about February 1919!

Born in 1897, Sidney was about 17 living with his mother in Cambridge, England when the Great War commenced. While he didn’t enlist initially, he was soon conscripted when it came about in 1916 though thankfully he was in a non-combatant role driving lorries transporting soldiers to boats headed for France. It’s where he learned he enjoyed driving! However in April 1917, Sidney was transferred to the Machine Gun Corps and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant where only 7 months later, his life would change forever.

During the battle of Passchendaele, one of the muddiest most gruelling segments of the war, Sidney was on the frontlines when a shell burst, sending a shrapnel fragment tearing diagonally through his nose and the right side of his face. The young soldier collapsed face first into the mud which ended up saving his life as falling backwards would have caused him to choke on his own blood. For three days Sidney laid in a mangled heap floating in and out of consciousness while vermin scurried about his body and the other dead and wounded around him. No one would ever know the details of those agonising three days, but the trauma he experienced there left him with a lifelong phobia of rats and cockroaches. After the initial wounded had been cleared out, a wandering band of stretcher bearers discovered Sidney alive after one man touched him with his boot fully expecting him to be dead. Miraculously, he was still clinging to life.

The 19 year old sergeant was rushed down the line and then transferred to two different military hospitals where his wounds were hastily stitched in an effort to save his life before infection could spread. Unfortunately, closing the gap where he was missing flesh in his cheek caused his upper lip to be pulled into a sneer and a sunken depression formed where most of his nose was missing around the bridge. Still, he was lucky to be alive, which he later used to remark. Well he was luckier still as he would be transferred to Sidcup military hospital in Kent where he would become a patient under Sir Harold Gillies, the man often considered the pioneer of modern plastic surgery. When he arrived at hospital in 1918, his wounds were healed but his face still bore the heavy trauma of his experience. If you want to see his photographs upon arrival, I won’t post them here but if you search his name, the photos are everywhere. IMO they’re not graphic but I know it can upset some people.

Gillies went to work trying to restore Sidney’s face. This required him to reopen the wound in his cheek where a skin flap was grafted to allow his upper lip to return to normal. He also folded down a skin flap from his forehead in order to create a new nose. Behind his facade, a series of tubes and canals had to be inserted for proper sinus drainage and other unnamed functions. While his initial handful of surgeries did most of the work to reconstruct his face, Sidney underwent over 40 surgeries between 1918 and the 1930s, some reconstructive and some to evacuate the tubes behind the flesh, meaning the common cold was a routinely painful affliction for him. Gillies understood operations were traumatic for the men at Sidcup, especially since most required more than one, and so made a point about creating a lighthearted ward environment, one Sidney says was quite jolly with the staff doing everything they could to make them feel comfortable and dignified as possible. And while I thought the topmost photos were the most updated case study photos for his recovery, I stumbled upon another set from 1920 in the Faces of War by Andrew Bamji I have not seen posted anywhere!

And lads listen. In such a sweet little twist, while Sidney was still recovering from the bulk of his major surgeries, a local pianist by the name of Winifred volunteered to play for the resting servicemen, all of whom had some form of disfigurment or amputation. Carrying in her sheet music, she and Sidney laid eyes on each other for the first time and she later remarked how his smile instantly lit up the whole room! For them, it was love at first sight. The two were soon married, and although it was in the 1920s, I don’t have an exact year for this. This most likely came after Sidney was finally discharged from service in 1921. There is a photo of their wedding and y’all look how SWEET!!

Between his initial surgeries and army discharge, Gillies asked if Sidney would be his personal chauffeur, an offer he took up quickly as he loved driving from his time with lorries during the war. One somewhat humorous account tells of Gillies—who was a bit scattered at times—asking Sidney to renew his driver’s license as the surgeon left it until the last day to take care of; Sidney in a rush waited in a long line at the county hall before jumping the queue and begging the administrator to expedite his employer’s license as it was needed to drive him to the hospital the next day. The man refused, even for a surgeon to get him to his patients. Sidney went to another staff member who was friends with Gillies and begged him the same. The man cheerily agreed but was still in need of a signature from the stubborn administrator who again refused... at least until he found out Harold Gillies nearly won a golfing championship, at which point he took Sidney to his personal office to expedite the license as he was happy to do business for a skilled golfer (apparently saving people’s lives doesn’t matter as much??). A no doubt perplexed Sidney was finally able to get back to the hospital on time!

After his army discharge and most likely about the time of his marriage, Sidney moved back to Cambridge where he worked for the council as a rent collector. He was so well liked, apparently even from the people he collected from, that he soon worked his way to Housing Manager for Cambridge. About this time, he had a daughter, Pam. Every account I read of him, people gush about how sweet he was. His wife recalls how Sidney was always adored by all his family and friends. His granddaughter Marilyn McInnes in an interview said, “He was the most warm and optimistic and loving man. I adored my grandfather, I was constantly on his lap as a small child. I never noticed anything funny about his face, I guess I thought all grandads looked like mine.”

Sadly, Sidney Beldam passed away from cancer at about 80 years old in 1978. But considering the man was given 6 months to live and ended up living for 60 years more surrounded by a large and loving family, I’d say he certainly had a full life. There is a picture of him and his wife in the 60s and they are absolutely charming!!

But anyway that’s me done rambling I’ve a massive crush on him. His story makes me genuinely happy to tell and I’m so glad you asked!

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Bend & Break - C.SC

🥺Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🥺What: coworkers. friends to fuckers. smut. 🥺Wordcount: 10k 🥺Warnings: Profanity. Sex toys. Dom!reader. Sub!Seungcheol. Petnames from reader to Cheol(baby, sweetheart, little one, good boy, babyboy). Kink discussion. Safeword discussion. Teasing. Fingering by reader to self. Cheol licks/sucks a dildo. He's very needy and desperate <3. Edging(Cheol receiving). Begging(Cheol). Cheol cries(from pleasure dw). Reader just wants to ruin Seungcheol and that's so relatable. Sort of ambigious ending I guess in regards to the future of their relationship.

Summary; You've recently been hired due to the sunshine personality you showed for an interview, purely with the intention of the company pairing you up with Seungcheol to counteract his grumpy attitude around the office. Nobody realises it's just a work persona of yours and when someone does, it's none other than Choi Seungcheol himself.

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this story would've never happened if the wonderful @bitchlessdino hadn't taken pity on me and my empty brain and slid an idea over to me. And letting me run wild and turn it into a sub cheol smut. Thank you so much for screaming about this with me, sweetheart <3

Edited: 21/12/24

Being the new hire anywhere isn't ever really a thrilling experience for anyone. Being the new hire mostly because of the fake persona you showed at the interview is even worse. Because now, you have to keep acting like the bubbly, happy-go-lucky person you had pretended to be two months ago.

Still, the pay is good, the hours aren't gruelling and although you're part of a dozen-strong team, you share a comfortable little office with only one other person, so you figure it's not the worst trade-off.

Though you still haven't yet decided if your work partner is reason enough to change your mind about that.

Choi Seungcheol is the very reason you were hired; to counteract his frankly miserable attitude around the office. Not that he much leaves your shared office, but when he does he's likely to be glaring at whoever is making the most noise, or simply asking him a question that isn't entirely necessary.

He has the world's most severe case of resting bitch face too, which regularly causes issues with clients. So you were hired to be the pep in client meetings and steer things in the correct direction when Seungcheol is seconds from saying something that could risk the contract, or a trip to HR.

Seungcheol isn't the type to fake interest in the personal lives of clients or colleagues; he's just here to work. And honestly, you respect that a hell of a lot. But it also means you shoulder all the small talk and have to look at pictures of people's pets, kids, and holidays that you really could not give less shits about.

And all of that means that although Seungcheol is a hard worker and you're beyond happy to have a competent partner at your side, he is one of the main reasons for your rising stress levels. Just once you'd like to not have to be the smiling balm to soothe the sting of his harsh demeanour and blunt words.

Alas, Seungcheol is not going to change his ways, especially when he doesn't know that you could really do with him pulling his weight in the charm department.

Which is made very apparent on one particular day with a new client who seems to consistently bump heads with Seungcheol.

The meeting is an hour of Seungcheol's nastiest bitch face and the client's obnoxious attitude flaunting the “customer is always right” motto the company stupidly prides itself on. You want to tell the client to go fuck himself on more than one occasion throughout the meeting, but you can't seeing as you'd like to be able to keep receiving a pay check.

As soon as the meeting is over, Seungcheol is out of there, no doubt halfway back to your shared office before you can even exit the little conference room thanks to the client deciding that “you just have to visit the resort I vacationed in. Here, let me show you the site”. So you're stuck pretending to be interested in the fancy foreign resort that the client shows you on his phone for the next handful of minutes before you can finally leave.

After all that you really need a break, so instead of going straight back to your office you walk straight past it and to the supply room for your floor.

Once inside the small room of shelving units full of various office supplies, you just stand there, eyes squeezed closed and hands tight on your hips while you focus on trying to calm yourself down with some deep breathing.

You're so focused that you don't hear the door open a few minutes later. The gentle tap of shoes on the hard flooring has your eyes snapping open and over to where Seungcheol, of all people, is standing with one hand raised to grab a new packet of printer paper, but his attention is entirely on you. He looks bewildered; one eyebrow raised and the other scrunched a little with his head tilted slightly.

You immediately slap on your usual bright smile, entirely fake but nobody has ever noticed that before, and grab a new, empty folder from the shelf near you. “I didn't know we need new paper already, I would've grabbed it myself if I knew,” you chirp, already walking towards the exit but the room isn't wide enough for there to be enough space around Seungcheol for you to just breeze on by like you want to. And he doesn't step aside either.

“Well, guess everyone's favourite isn't all sunshine and rainbows after all,” he replies with a smug smirk. “I wonder how everyone will react to knowing the truth about you.

“I don't know what you mean, Seungcheol.” You smile sweetly then skirt around him and leave before he can say anything else so you can return to your shared office to get to work on the new client file.

You expect Seungcheol to say something when he returns; to try and taunt you and goad you some more yet he doesn't say a thing, he just silently refills the paper in the printer and gets back to work.

For a whole week, Seungcheol has you on edge; he keeps smirking at you knowingly and making vague comments around others in what you know is an attempt to get you to break. But you hold on strong and don't show a single sign that the you everyone in the office knows, isn't you at all.

It's pretty much a week to the exact minute that you break. Another meeting with that same client that goes about as well as the first has you back in the supply room counting your breaths.

You're very certain that your printer does not need more paper already when you look over at the footsteps entering the small room.

Seungcheol isn't even pretending to be there for any reason other than to watch you break. He's leaning against the unit on his right with his arms crossed over his chest and a cocky smirk on his face.

And finally, enough is enough.

“You need to fucking stop,” you warn. His face lights up in victory at you not even attempting to put on the higher, friendlier pitch you use at work; your customer service voice that you even use for your colleagues. “Seriously, Seungcheol, stop it,” you reiterate while heading towards the exit.

This time, Seungcheol purposely stands in your path and looks down at you arrogantly. “Are you going to admit that you're not the innocent little sweetheart that everyone thinks you are?”

You take a breath as you stare back at him just so you don't break too far. “You don't even know the half of it,” you retort simply.

Seungcheol stares back at you curiously for a few seconds before stepping aside to watch you go, wondering what exactly that means and how he can find out for himself.

After that second incident in the supply room, you figure there's really not any point in keeping up the facade with Seungcheol so when it's just the two of you in your private office, you let the persona drop.

The first time you swear to yourself in complaint over your work, Seungcheol gawps at you in shock until you notice and raise an eyebrow at him. But he says nothing and doesn't react after that time except the occasional amused smile to himself as he hears you curse colourfully at much more regular intervals than he ever does.

And Seungcheol lets you see more of the real him too.

The two of you have always met outside of work for the sake of finishing tasks or discussing clients without being confined to the same four walls of your office. You'd get dinner or he'd come over to your apartment to go over documents in your office for however long necessary. But it was always about work.

Though now that he knows who you really are, it's not always about work; your conversations over dinner turn more friendly, enough that you see him smiling genuinely and laughing for the first time. And he doesn't stop either.

A genuine friendship quickly blossoms between the pair of you, allowing you to be yourselves to the extent that on more than one occasion Seungcheol has turned big, pleading puppy eyes on you with a pout to convince you to go where he wants for dinner, or even when he's complaining about his friends and being whiny, the big eyes hit you.

And the way they hit you is really not something you think you should think about the man, so you shove the thoughts of pinning him down and telling him what to do out of your mind.

The friendship between you is noticed by your colleagues too. It's kind of hard to miss the way that you're the only person who can get Seungcheol to join work dinners, after all.

You both know that there's a 'secret' betting pool going around the office in regard to whether you two are secretly dating or not; Jeonghan is not as slick as he thinks at hiding the bet sheet. And for fun, sometimes you and Seungcheol will purposely let your fingers brush over one another or let your gazes linger longer than they should, just to watch your coworkers try to not visibly flail at what they think are moments of you two failing to hide your relationship.

Though mostly, your close relationship means that when one of you is invited to drinks, dinner or some other activity with colleagues, you'll both turn up. Even if neither of you want to. But you dug a hole with your fake persona and refuse to be buried in it alone so always drag Seungcheol in to suffer with you.

Which leads us to the day that you well and truly snap.

It's one of those days where if something can go wrong, it will, topped with shitty clients and colleagues who will just not let you have five minutes of peace.

By the end of the day, you're wound so tight that all you want to do is go home and give yourself some good old-fashioned stress relief on one of your favourite toys. But this day doesn't allow you even that.

It's another casual team dinner that you can't get out of; it's to celebrate Mingyu's birthday and well, even if you're in a shitty mood, the giant puppy of a man is such a sweetheart that you truly would feel bad about ditching him to masturbate.

So you get into Seungcheol's car like usual after work, go to the restaurant and sit at his side at the table while silently praying that this will not be a complete shit show.

Two hours later, you're really at the end of your fucking rope. You really had been naive to even hope that this team dinner wouldn't be as rowdy and chaotic as all the rest. Your colleagues are a lot on the best of days with nothing to celebrate, so when they have an excuse to drink they really go for it. You're always surprised when the group isn't kicked out of public spaces, honestly.

The only ones not drinking are you and Seungcheol. Neither of you ever drink at these gatherings; you claim that you just don't drink in general while Seungcheol flat-out refuses without any attempt at an excuse. Really, you both don't want to risk encouraging the group to invite either of you out for more than just the company-related dinners, so not drinking sort of keeps the team in general at arm's length. Though both of you do have a few drinks when it's just the two of you and you can let yourselves relax in trusted, comfortable company.

But this is not that, this is you sitting side by side with Seungcheol blessedly keeping his mouth shut while you try not to break and tell everyone to shut the fuck up before leaving.

You do, however, take solace in the bathroom a few times, using the cold water to cool you down before going back into what tonight feels like your own personal hell.

On your latest trip out of the bathroom Seungcheol passes you, heading to empty his own bladder. He smirks at you and murmurs something in your ear as you pass one another. You can't even tell what he says; your brain is so heavy with fuzzy tension that his words don't register at all. But they don't need to, you know he's teasing you about your temper; he's done it before many times. Usually, you'd just joke back at him and point out his own, but tonight you don't have it in you.

Your gaze turns icy on him in a second causing him to come to an abrupt stop. You don't linger, don't slow and just turn and settle your expression back to your facade before rejoining the drunken group.

When Seungcheol returns, he timidly slips into his seat on your right silently in an attempt to not anger you further. Though a few seconds later, the tip of his left pinkie brushes the edge of your right elbow where it's resting on the tabletop, his hand sort of hooked on the edge of the table close to you yet out of sight of your colleagues.

You turn your head to look at Seungcheol and find him looking at you with those fucking giant doe eyes, silently asking for forgiveness. But you don't give it, just turn back around to watch your coworkers making absolute fools of themselves.

Yet your mind is stuck on Seungcheol's innocent expression and timid posture and all you can think about is how much you'd love to make him squirm and beg under your attention. It's riling you up in a way you usually keep such a tight lid on, but considering how tense you already are tonight, that lid is bowing and shaking under the building pressure and you know it'll blow soon enough.

For the first time since meeting Seungcheol, being in his passenger seat isn't a very pleasant experience. Neither of you say a word for the entire fourteen-minute drive from the restaurant to your apartment, and that in itself isn't unusual, but usually there isn't this thick tension hanging between you two.

When Seungcheol pulls up in front of your building, you turn to look at him. He has both hands on the wheel and eyes locked on the space between his hands with clearly no intention of doing more than just dropping you off at home despite the fact he usually goes straight inside with you to hang out some more.

And honestly, it's probably best if he does go straight home and leaves you to deal with your tension alone. But it's not exactly an option.

“You need to check those documents ready for Monday,” you remind. Seungcheol lets out a reluctant breath but relocates the car to the parking lot in silent agreement.

Once in your apartment, the two of you remove your shoes and jackets to put them in their usual places.

It's kind of insane to you that Seungcheol is at your apartment enough that there is literally space on the low shoe rack for him to leave his shoes, and a gap on the pegs for his work jacket, there's even one of his casual jackets already there on the next peg. You don't really have any close friends, nobody you deem worth your time to allow into your life frequently enough to have a usual place in your home.

There isn't anything said between you as you walk through to your office where you lean over onto the desk to boot up your computer while Seungcheol hovers awkwardly a little behind you.

While waiting for the system to accept your password for the work files, you look over your shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow. He stares back at you dumbly until you give him a look and motion to the chair on your right with a silent tilt of your head.

In seconds, Seungcheol's ass meets the seat and he stares up at you with big, obedient eyes, his hands laced together and trapped between his thick thighs.

It's all rather dangerous considering how close you are to snapping and overstepping the boundaries neither of you had ever verbally set up between you but are always in place in platonic relationships. Even if you want nothing more than to destroy them right now, and Seungcheol too.

So you turn back to your computer with gritted teeth, open the relevant documents and motion to the computer vaguely before leaving the room entirely.

You go straight to the kitchen to down a glass of water as cold as you can stand it before splashing more on your face, then dragging a cold, wet hand on the back of your neck needing all the help you can currently get to cool down in every sense of the word.

It doesn't work.

By the time Seungcheol is done with the documents and shuffles into the kitchen, you're standing with both hands on the counter in front of you while staring darkly at nothing in particular, jaw tense and an attempt in your breathing to try and regulate your emotions.

“I finished it, it's all ready to send off,” he informs, coming to a stop a few metres away, not as close as he'd usually stand but still closer than sensible if he knew the depravity in your mind right now.

“Good,” you return simply without even looking at him.

He huffs a soft laugh. “No thank you?” He jokes, but you can't see the humour at all. Not when you're feeling like this.

“Thank you?” You repeat flatly before turning your dark gaze to him as you straighten and lean off of the counter. He swallows thickly and takes a step back when you take one towards him, prompting him to keep reversing. “Why should I thank you for doing your fucking job, huh?”

Seungcheol's mouth opens and closes with an attempt to try and say something, some kind of a “just joking” explanation but all he manages are vague sputters of sound that cut off abruptly when his back hits the wall and you're standing right in front of him. He's taller than you by a handful of inches but right now, he feels so fucking small and he's surprised by how much he likes it.

"Well?" You prompt, well aware that he had tried to explain himself; his pathetic stammering was very obvious and gave away that you’re intimidating him.

Though based on the big innocent eyes on you paired with the prettiest of pink tints to his cheeks, you think that perhaps intimidation isn't all it is.

And it's just pushing you to keep pushing him until he breaks because you know that he'll break so fucking beautifully.

“I'm sorry,” he finally manages to squeak out.

“You think that's good enough? You think you can just give me empty words and all is forgiven? Oh, baby, you really don't know me at all.”

He just stares at you dumbly; mouth dry and pupils dilating further and further with every act you make. 

It's far from the Seungcheol you see at work and that thought sort of douses you in icy water. This isn't normal for either of you.

Well, it's not unusual behaviour for you with partners at all, but he doesn't know that. Besides, he's your work partner and friend, not a sexual partner.

“Shit.” You sigh and back up a little. “You should go, I'm clearly not in the right frame of mind and if you stay, I'll go too far.” You try to move even further away to give him space to leave, yet you're stopped by your shirt pulling tight around your back. You look down and find both of Seungcheol's hands gripping the hem of your untucked shirt, his fingers trembling a little. You look back up with a questioning eyebrow.

“ don't want to leave,” he admits quietly as his cheeks darken slightly.

“No?” He shakes his head shyly. “You know what it means if you stay, right? You know what I want to do to you?” You check a little worriedly.

“Uhm...dom me?”

You huff a laugh. “I want to ruin you, baby.” His eyes light with interest. “You want that? Big scary Choi Seungcheol wants little ol' me to pin him down and make him cry?” You tease while running a finger over his jaw.

His mouth opens wider and his tongue appears with the tip pressed against his lip as if reaching for your touch. You don't give it to him even if you think he'll look precious with your fingers in his mouth.

You pull your hands away and cross your arms over your chest. “When I ask you a question, I expect a verbal response, Seungcheol.” Your voice is firm and your expression is the same on him.

“Y-yes!” He rushes out. “I-I want you to do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Use me.” You hadn't said those words yourself, but you like them a hell of a lot. “Push me down and use me to make yourself feel good. Make me cry, ruin me. Please just...do something,” he's begging by now, not as strongly as he could be, still holding back a lot but you're pretty sure it's all very new for him.

You need to check though before anything goes any further. “Have you ever done anything like this before? Subbed?”

He shakes his head a little. “No, it's usually the other way.”

“Figures.” You huff a laugh then reach down to remove his hands from your shirt to take one into your own hand. “Come on.”

You lead him to your bedroom, though let him go in the middle of the floor to walk over and sit on the edge of your bed. He fidgets when you just stare at him contemplatively, your eyes dark and calculating as you lean back on your palms behind you with your legs crossed over at the ankles comfortably.

When he starts to fiddle with the hem of his shirt nervously, you speak up deeming him desperate enough with his cheeks a magnificent dark pink. “What're your limits, Cheolie?”

The nickname is new but he likes it. It feels fitting somehow.

“Uh.” He has to stop and think for a moment. He isn't sure exactly what his limits are for certain in this situation because he doesn't know what he likes in the submissive role, but there are some things he knows he'll never be okay with so he starts there. “Bodily fluids outside of spit and cum.”

“So you don't mind being spat on with your own cum?”

“Uh, I mean, I think I'm okay with it,” he offers awkwardly; uncertain but trying his hardest to be open and honest.

“How about eating it?”

“Uh...I don't know about that.”

“Okay.” You easily accept his response and move on. “What else? Pain?”

“I don't know; I've never received it before. If you want to try it I'm willing just… not too intense.”

“Hmm, we'll see. Edging? Overstimulation?” Those options have him hesitating as he genuinely considers them both. And then, he nods slowly, shyly. “I asked a question, Seungcheol.”

“Y-yes, to both.”

“Good, because that's my favourite thing to do to my little ones,” you coo. “Pick a safe word.”

“Uh, can we use the traffic light system? Red for stop, green for carry on?”

“Sure thing,” you agree easily; it was familiar enough to you after all. “What do you use for uncertain? Some people say yellow, some orange, some amber.”

“Whatever.”

“Pick one,” it's a demand he quickly obeys.

“Amber.”

“Good boy.” He visibly preens a little at the praise, which you make a mental note of. “Are you clean? Sexually, I mean?”

“Yes.”

“And that's a recent test since your last sexual partner?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I won't touch you without that confirmation and luckily, I trust you to be honest so you don't need to show me proof like I usually demand.”

“You trust me?” He asks softly, awed by the words and the weight they carry.

You hum and nod in confirmation. “More than anyone else.”

“Oh.” He smiles down at his hands happily. “I feel the same about you too.”

“I imagine so, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be willing to do this if you didn't,” you tease.

“Ah, yeah, true.” He chuckles and rubs his neck shyly.

You let him stew in his minor embarrassment for a second before talking again. “Degradation?” He looks up at you at that. “How do you feel about that?”

“I might cry,” he admits honestly, making you laugh a little at the blunt way he speaks the words. “I don't like being called names or looked down on.”

“Okay, baby, none of that,” you assure.

“Thank you.”

“Mm, of course, I have to make this good for you too. And I do love that you use your manners without being prompted. Such a good boy, huh?” His eyes round out again at you and the semi-casual air between you dissipating with your slightly teasing tone. “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Cheolie?”

“Yes, I'll be good for you.”

“Then strip.” He blinks at you a few times at the abrupt demand; the way your tone changes from light to borderline hard with no room for arguments.

Slowly, Seungcheol's slightly shaky fingers first remove his tie, and then his shirt, exposing his broad, muscle-thick torso to you. He knows he looks good, that his body is worth ogling but your dark eyes still make him feel shy.

Still, he continues, his top half entirely bare and moving onto his belt.

Something about the way he opens it and pulls it free from the loops of his slacks is really attractive to you. You can easily imagine him teasing his own sub as he removes his belt before grabbing the ends to turn it on their backside when he bends them over. Maybe you could break for him too; if he turns out to be a good enough fuck this time that is.

For now, you're more than content to watch him open his button and zipper and let his trousers drop to his ankles. He bends down to remove them from around his feet, taking his socks off too and then he straightens up and looks at you. You can tell he's hesitant to remove his boxers by the way his fingers fiddle with the waistband over his hips for a few seconds.

There's a part of you that wants to let him off easy for now and allow him to keep his boxers on for a little while. But the bigger part of you really doesn't want to do that so you continue to silently watch him.

Seungcheol lowers his head to look down at his underwear for a second, then he looks at you through his eyelashes still hoping you'll take pity on him. You don't. So he looks back down as he takes a long breath in before he hooks his thumbs under the elastic band and starts to push the material down.

You watch with rapt attention as the final piece of the beautiful, thick-built puzzle that is Choi Seungcheol is revealed to you inch by glorious inch. You have to admit, he's fucking gorgeous and it does a lot to you. Makes you throb between your thighs as they clench for a second while he's distracted focusing on removing his boxers from his legs.

And then he's entirely bare and looking at you shyly, fingers on his right hand picking at the nails of his left in nervous wait.

“C'mere,” you murmur. Seungcheol stumbles over and when you nod to the floor, he slowly lowers to his knees, letting his hands hover over his rapidly hardening dick. That is like the rest of him; thick and unfairly beautiful.

At this rate, you can't tell who is going to ruin who.

“Don't hide from me.” You unfold your legs just to gently tap at his hands with your socked foot before settling it flat on the floor beside his left knee.

A little reluctantly, Seungcheol moves his hands aside to place them on the tops of his thighs and allow you the full view of his kneeled form.

“Mm, much better, good boy.” The praise straightens his posture a little. “You're so beautiful, babyboy, don't deprive me of such a gorgeous view, hm?”

“Ah, fuck,” he softly breathes out; a little overwhelmed by the unexpected compliments, which he just knows are genuine from your tone and expression on him. You clearly like what you see and it makes his dick jump a little against his thigh. You smirk at the visible response; you've always known that Seungcheol loves compliments and praise but you didn't know just how much.

“Shall we even things out a little?” You suggest, already getting up to your feet in front of him.

He watches you with rapt attention as you open your trousers and shimmy them down. His gaze is too focused on the skin of your thighs coming into sight that he doesn't realise that you've pushed your panties down with your trousers to save yourself time. At least until you sit back down on the edge of the bed when the material is around your knees.

“Off,” you demand.

Seungcheol's hands immediately reach out to hook his fingers over the combined waistbands and pull them off of your slightly raised legs. It's when he's setting them aside that he notices the white material inside of the black of your trousers and freezes.

Mindlessly, he moves one hand to pull on the white material and quickly looks at you with wide eyes and his mouth parted. You just raise an eyebrow in return, silently prompting him to snap back to his task and move the material aside entirely so that he can carefully remove your socks too.

“Good boy.”

Just to tease, you sit there for a good almost twenty seconds with your legs closed most of the way, just the slightest gap between your thighs but it's not big enough for him to see anything but a dark shadow.

To your surprise, he actually gives in first. “Please?” He begs softly, looking up at you pleadingly. “Please let me see your pussy.”

“Oh, how can I refuse such good manners?” You coo and spread your legs causing his gaze to drop back down between them. Though he whines when he realises that your shirt is long enough to mostly cover you and shadow the rest. “You make such cute sounds, Cheolie.”

“Don't tease me,” he complains.

“I'll do what I want and you'll be grateful for it.” He presses his lips together looking fully scolded and stares at you in wait. He's impatient, that's very obvious but he's doing his best to stick to this new dynamic.

Honestly, he's taking to it a lot better than you had expected, or hoped, considering all that you know about Choi Seungcheol; so instead of prolonging it any longer, you lift the hem of your shirt out of the way with one hand.

Seungcheol's lips part when his eyes land back between your thighs and take in the sight of you fully exposed to him. Automatically, his hands lift with every intention of putting them on your thighs to push your legs open further while he leans in licking his lips.

But you stop him with your free hand, a finger pressed to his forehead. “I didn't say you can touch.” You grin amusedly at his dumb-aroused expression; his mouth open and tongue hanging out a little.

“Can I taste?” He requests, putting his hands back on his thighs but not leaning back. Your slightly condescending laugh makes him pout. When you nudge his forehead under your index finger, he leans back into a sulky slouch.

“Your job is to sit there and look pretty for me,” you point out, now using that same finger to trail up your inner thigh. Seungcheol's pout melts away as he watches its path intently. He audibly inhales sharply when it drags through your folds. He groans a little when he sees the shine now on the digit and wishes it was his tongue getting doused in your arousal.

Even though you very much would enjoy an orgasm or two sooner rather than later, you continue to tease yourself with one finger; barely brushing over your clit and circling your hole but never pushing in. It's more to tease Seungcheol and the squirming of his body perhaps turns you on more than your own actions.

Either way, when you do finally give in and plunge your finger inside, you're wet enough that it's more than easy and honestly, not very satisfying past the initial relief of having something in you finally.

Though that relief passes very quickly so soon you're adding a second finger and watching Seungcheol chew on his bottom lip hard enough that you think he's going to break skin any second. You really don't want that, so you pull your fingers out and reach towards him. The speed at which he leans it with his mouth opening genuinely makes you laugh.

“Oh, baby, you are desperate, huh?” You tease and adjust your hand so that your thumb presses against his bottom lip and your slick fingers are not close enough to his mouth to get even the hint of a taste. “You're not getting a taste, I just don't want you to hurt those pretty lips.” The expression he lands on you is utterly heartbroken. “Stop biting or I'll gag you, understand?”

“I...I understand,” he agrees, so you let him go and return your fingers back to yourself, though Seungcheol doesn't lean back. In this position, his head is pretty much between your knees, which you spread a little wider and he takes as permission to scoot a little closer. You don't mind at all, he'll just be teasing himself more with a closer view after all.

Your intention with fingering yourself isn't to reach orgasm at all, mostly you just want to tease Seungcheol by showing him what he can't have, though you also do want to prepare yourself. When you're able to easily take three fingers, you remove them and get up.

“Wh-where are you going?” He worries, hands lifting from his thighs but only hovering a few inches away from his own body. He wants to reach out and stop you from walking away but he knows he can't. You still haven't given him permission to touch yet and he really doesn't want to be scolded again, let alone face any kind of punishment you may give him if he disobeys a direct order. He's horny, not stupid.

“I'll be right back, just sit there and wait like a good boy, sweetheart,” your voice is gentle in order to soothe him that you are, in fact, not planning to actually leave and end things here as he fears.

You quickly grab something from a case in the chest of drawers before returning. You sit back down and open your thighs again, but Seungcheol's gaze is glued to the pale blue dildo in your hand.

“What do you think?” You muse, leaning down to hold it near to his erection in comparison. “Ah, not quite as thick as you.” You sigh dramatically and straighten back up. “That's a shame; it's as close as I've got though, so it'll have to do.” You pout theatrically as you trace the tip of the silicone toy over your slick folds; it's a little cold and jarring but you do your best to ignore it. Besides, the temperature difference isn't something you're entirely against.

Vaguely, you wonder if Seungcheol would be into temperature play; you've never tried it before but you've always been interested in both giving and receiving.

Seungcheol wants to make a retort, say that instead of settling for a toy that wouldn't stretch you like his thick cock would, you could just use his. He'd fuck you however you want and probably thank you for it at this point; he's throbbing with need and leaking on his thigh. He doesn't think he's ever been so fucking turned on in his life. But he can't talk, can't say a fucking thing as he watches the head of the toy breach you.

He was wrong before, now he's more turned on than he's ever been as he watches the way the girth of the toy spears you open.

Your breath catches a little so he looks up at you and once again corrects himself because your expression is what wet dreams are fucking made of. Your mouth is parted and your eyes are closed, your head tipped back slightly and your cheeks pink with pleasure.

You let out a curse under your breath so he looks back down and swears in the same fashion when he sees that you have entirely embedded the toy within you, just the slightly flared base in your fingers still.

“Fuck,” he curses again when you start to pull the toy out slowly and he sees how you've drenched it. Your eyes open to look down at him with an amused lopsided grin. He doesn't notice though, he's too entranced by the show less than a metre in front of his face.

Seungcheol doesn't notice the way he naturally moves a hand towards his crotch with the intention of soothing his aching cock, but you do. “Stop,” you demand, stopping your own motions of fucking into yourself slowly to let yourself get used to the toy's length and girth fully.

“Huh?” He looks up at you confused with his mouth wide open.

“I didn't give you permission to touch your cock, Seungcheol.”

“What?” He looks down and notices the hand inches from his dick. “Oh.” He hesitates but obediently puts his hand back on his thigh before looking up at you shyly. “I-I didn't realise. I'm sorry.”

“Feeling that needy?” You smirk and get back to fucking yourself on the toy. He lets out a sound, a mix between a whimper and a groan as he looks back down at your pussy. “Answer me.”

“Yes. Yes, I've never been this turned on before,” he admits in a rush of syllables. “Wanna fuck you so much,” he whines, fingers curling into fists which he presses down onto his thighs almost harshly in an attempt to behave for you.

He wants to be good for you. Wants to be your good boy. But it's so fucking hard when you look so fucking good. Look like your pussy would take him so well and make a fucking mess of him.

All he wants is to get up, throw that toy aside and sink his cock into you and feel your slick, heated walls around him. He's fucking convinced that your pussy would be perfect for him.

But he can't, and that's really hard for him to accept and handle when he's usually the one in charge during sex.

“Think you can make me feel better than this?” You taunt a little and pick up speed, letting your pleasure show through with little pleased sounds that really do not help Seungcheol's self-control at all. He moves a little closer yet doesn't touch either of you the way he wants to.

He's obviously trying his hardest and that, you think, is more than enough when honestly, you really want his cock in you as much as he wants to put it in you.

“Yes,” there's not an ounce of hesitation in his answer, he's entirely confident in his abilities, in his thick cock.

Usually, you'd roll your eyes and dismiss that confidence from a man because they're notoriously cocky with nothing to back up their claims. Part of the reason you got into domming is because men don't know how to use their dicks, so you always get more pleasure when you're on top and controlling how your walls are pummelled.

But there's something about Seungcheol that tells you that he's not like other men. He can and will fuck you right given the chance. Still, you want to be on top in every way.

“Big talk, little one.” You huff a laugh, most of your breath affected by the pleasure of the toy you're using to hit all of those good spots inside of you with every thrust. You're not being as rough as you could be, as you often tend to be when you feel like this, but you're talking and know that you have no space left in your chest for words when you truly fuck yourself.

“Let me prove it,” he pleads. “Please, just let me fuck you and I promise you'll cum hard.”

“I'll cum hard regardless,” you hum. His expression twists in displeasure knowing that you are truly dismissing his offer. “Maybe another time,” you counteroffer, not liking that downtrodden expression at all.

He looks up at you with hope glistening his dark gaze. “Yeah?” He asks with a surprised exhale.

“If you do good enough for me this time.” You pull the toy out and point it at him. Seungcheol eyes it and licks his lips. “What? You wanna suck it?” You taunt.

“Wanna taste you,” he murmurs.

“Enough to suck my cock?”

He glances up at you then looks back down and nods, licking his lips again. “Yeah, can I? Please?”

“Seeing as you asked so nicely,” you approve and touch the silicone toy to his bottom lip.

Seungcheol's tongue immediately darts out to pass over the silicone and get his first taste of you. His eyes roll back and he groans before he very enthusiastically starts to drag his mouth over the toy. He moves up the length along every side, not actually putting the toy into his mouth really, but this is absurdly hot enough as it is.

It turns you on much more than you had anticipated seeing this handsome man pretty much going feral for your taste that he'll messily lave his tongue over the dildo with his eyes closed in bliss and constant streams of groans of approval vibrating out of his throat.

And when he moves back to the tip and wraps his lips around it, genuinely sucking on the fake-cock, well that's as much as you can handle. You pull it away without warning creating a pop before Seungcheol looks at you half dazed, half betrayed with a smidge of confusion.

“Get on the bed,” you demand, getting up and walking around to one side of the bed while unbuttoning your shirt.

Seungcheol doesn't even have to think; there's no mental input on his behalf as he jumps up. His legs almost give out under him as the blood rushes back into his limbs after sitting on them in one position for a prolonged period, but he powers through to practically throw himself onto the mattress.

“On your back.” He crawls and shuffles until he's on his back with his head on the pillows and chest rising and falling heavily already in anticipation.

Seungcheol's heavy gaze remains on you as you reveal your body entirely. He lets out a shaky exhale when you're fully bare and climbing up onto the mattress at his left. “You're beautiful,” he says in a tone that is far too affectionate for what is going on here.

It makes you pause for a moment and look carefully at his gaze. He still looks ridiculously horny but there's something else there now; a touch of fond that genuinely sort of worries you.

Of course, you are fond of Seungcheol; he's a very precious friend to you but your feelings don't extend further than that, further than platonic and sexual. You really hope that the fondness you see is nothing more than a reflection of your own feelings and nothing more. Him having romantic feelings could certainly complicate matters more than adding sex into the mix will.

Sex you can navigate with your eyes closed, but feelings? That's an entirely different circus.

“Are you going to sit on my face?” His hopeful tone brings you back to reality. He hasn't even noticed your hesitation for what it truly is and just assumes you're teasing him further.

“Not today,” you answer, silently deciding to just give you both what you want right now and have an actual discussion later when you're both not horny messes.

“Oh.” His lips purse into a pout but then you retrieve a condom from the side table drawer and he lights up again. “Oh!” You let out a soft amused sound at his excited reaction and straddle his thighs while opening the wrapper. “Can I touch myself?” You give him an unimpressed look. “Just to help!” He assures.

“Mm, sure, I'll allow that,” you agree. Seungcheol has his dick in hand as soon as the words are slipping from your lips and holding it upright for you. You notice the way he shudders a little at his own touch on his aching cock and don't berate him for the subtle stroke he gives himself as he rolls the rubber down his length once you put it at his tip. “Good boy,” you hum, tossing the foil aside carelessly.

“For you,” he answers, wide eyes watching as you move up his body to hover over his length that he's still holding upright. “Please.” He doesn't even realise he says it, but you do and decide you've both waited more than long enough.

As soon as you start to slide down his cock, Seungcheol's eyes roll back and his hands fly out to grip your hips tightly. It feels pretty nice so you allow it, at least for now, it's kind of stabilising to have his strong grasp centring you while his cock splits you open.

Although it hadn't looked that much bigger than your toy, you can certainly feel the difference in girth right now. Plus the fact that Seungcheol is so fucking hard in you compared to the slight give of the toy, well you're already so close to an orgasm it's kind of ridiculous.

It takes you both a handful of seconds of heavy breathing to gather yourselves when you're fully impaled on his length and seated on his hips. You don't even try to keep any weight off of him; you're certain he can handle it and even if you weren't, your legs are already weak enough from the feeling of him stretching you out even still like this that you doubt you could hold yourself up if you tried.

You haven't realised that your eyes had closed until you've got some of your breath back, enough to have a mind clear enough to want to look down at him. His eyes are closed; he's struggling more than you, which doesn't surprise you considering how you hadn't allowed him any touch until now.

Carefully, you remove Seungcheol's grip from your hips and lean over to pin his hands up by his head. The new angle has his cock hitting a delicious spot within you and you can't help but grind down against him to gain friction against it. This angle also means that your clit is rubbing against his body with every roll of your hips.

Seungcheol barely manages to open his eyes and look at you before they roll back again with pleasure as you moan over him, fingers gripping onto his wrists with your full weight. He doesn't mind at all, doesn't really register it considering you're so wet and hot and tight around him that he truly cannot focus on anything else. Yet even if he could register it, he wouldn't give a single fuck. You could crush him and he'd be into it right now.

“D-don't cum,” you order when you feel your orgasm right on the brink, eyes opening to peer down at him. His own fly open in pained disbelief. “Un-fuck-understand, Seungcheol?” He whines but nods obediently. The agreement of restraint sends you over. Pleasure shocks through your body making it jerk a little, mouth open with broken higher-pitched moans coming out.

Seungcheol's whole body tenses and his face screws up tightly as you clamp down around him. He's never fought an orgasm before but you told him not to cum and he's not going to let you down now.

He's shaking by the time you slump over him, forehead dropping to his shoulder as you fight to suck air back into your lungs, just the occasional tiny twitch of your hips when a fresh lick of pleasure shoots through you with the aftershocks of an intense orgasm.

“Did you cum?” You check another few moments later.

It takes Seungcheol a few attempts to answer, just grunts coming out at first but you wait patiently. “No,” he manages while flexing his fingers to give him something else to focus on.

“Good boy,” you praise and press a kiss to his neck. His breath catches at the unexpected action but then you do it again, and again, and again as you adjust yourself while leaning up to look down at him with your hands now on the mattress and not pressing down against his wrists in a tight grip.

You take a look at them and are relieved that there's only slight redness right now, so you're pretty sure he won't bruise. Still, you'll keep an eye on it just in case.

“You did so well, Cheolie.” You hum and cup his jaw. His lip trembles a little, eyes so big on you and soaking in the praise. It helps his shaking lessen as he relaxes from doing his utmost not to cum with the fluttering of your walls around him. “Think you can hold out longer for me, baby?”

“I...ye-yeah.” He isn't sure but he's sure he'll try his best for you. He really wants to be your good boy. Your best boy.

“Yeah?” You smile softly, pleased. He nods and smiles back a little in a natural reaction to seeing you happy with him. “That's my boy.” You tap his nose, then straighten up to sit on his hips with your hands on his solid abs. “I'm going to ride you now, okay baby?”

He nods shakily and sticks his hands under the pillow to grip it. “O-okay.”

“Colour?” He blinks at you confusedly a few times. “What colour are you right now, sweetheart?”

“Oh, green,” he answers. “Green.” The repetition makes your lips quirk up. It's oddly endearing that he's assuring you right now considering he's the one missing an orgasm.

“Good, tell me if that changes, okay?” He nods. You let him get away with not verbally responding this time and start to lift yourself up.

Seungcheol's gaze falls to watch his length appear from your dripping pussy utterly mesmerised. Up until you abruptly drop yourself back down, ass smacking down on his upper thighs audibly.

A loud, low moan tears from his open mouth as his back arches upwards. He looks fucking beautiful like this. You have to keep making him do that so you don't hesitate to lift and drop in the very same way; taking up a punishing rhythm that has his cock dragging against your walls in the most incredible of ways.

Honestly, you're half convinced his cock just being in you has you halfway to a constant orgasm because that ball in your lower stomach winds up tight so fucking quickly that you barely register it until it's there, urging you over but this isn't quite enough for you. You need clitoral stimulation but you don't think it's wise to give it to yourself right now with Seungcheol buried within you and his body trembling as he still holds back with everything in him.

At this point, he's babbling a little in amongst his constant stream of porn-worthy moans. You're not quite sure what he's saying really, you're not sure that he even knows what he's saying either.

If you cum with him inside you, you're positive that he will too regardless of your words so you pull off of him. His eyes instantly fly open in alarm and he looks at you as he lifts his head up. You just settle down again along his latex-covered cock to grind along the length.

He gasps and shudders watching his cock peek out through your slick folds. “Please, please,” he begs; his babbles now making sense while he's not overwhelmed with the feeling of you squeezing around him.

This is still a lot for him but he's much more able to be a good boy for you now. He really wants to make you proud of him. He doesn't want you to think he's a bad boy for cumming without permission, because then you won't play with him again and he really doesn't want that. He wants to be your good boy. Your only good boy.

You know what he's begging for even if he doesn't voice it. You'll make him say it in a minute but right now you're seconds from a second orgasm and unless he says red you're not going to stop.

Even though the orgasm is yours entirely, Seungcheol moans when you do as he watches your face contort with utter bliss as your hips jerk over his length a few more times before falling still. It's not quite as powerful as your first orgasm, not when you're empty, but it's still intense and leaves you breathless.

Initially, you had planned to give yourself many more orgasms before letting Seungcheol cum but you genuinely think if you draw more than one more out of yourself, you'll pass out. You don't know if it's because it's been a while and you've been so pent up that it feels so mind-numbingly incredible, or if it's because of the thick cock pressed up against you.

“Colour?” You pant out when you feel ready to go again, eyes landing on Seungcheol.

He doesn't hesitate to answer this time but he finally sounds wrecked, voice hoarse and cracking a little with the simple single-syllable response. “Green.”

“Okay.” You push up and gently lift his cock up to line with you, applying as little pressure as possible to try not to give him too much too soon and overwhelm him in the wrong way. “Positive?” He nods rapidly so you begin to impale yourself again. His breaths come in one long juddering inhale as you slide down his length until he's sheathed inside of you.

“Please,” he goes right back to pleading, levelling you with such a begging, wet gaze that you know that this will not last long at all.

“Please what, baby?” You question, lifting to ride him slowly, now focused on him and him alone yet not wanting to push him over too fast. He looks too pretty like this; skin blotched with reds and pinks in a way that makes you wish you had discussed marks beforehand so that you could leave some lovebites on his pecs.

But you hadn't, and asking for permission at this point is utterly pointless, Seungcheol is too gone to be able to give full consent to anything new. You're pretty sure he'd say yes to anything right now so long as he can cum.

“Lemmecum.”

“Hm? What was that, speak clearly.”

Seungcheol whines and sniffles. “I wanna c-cum. P-please.” He blinks rapidly as the tears gathering in his eyes overflow and spill down his temples onto the pillow under him. “Please-please l-let me c-cum,” he chokes out, close to full-on sobbing.

You give in. You want to make him cry, not sob his poor heart out, after all. “You can cum,” you consent.

Seungcheol freezes for a split second in genuine shock, but then his eyes roll back and his back bows, biceps bulging as he grips the pillow so tight and pulls it up a little with the strength of his orgasm. He almost yells your name he moans so loud in pleasure and relief as the intense climax takes over his body.

You continue to move on him slowly to ride him through it, and then a little out the other side when he flops back against the sheets and raggedly sucks in harsh breaths with only short exhales. You'd continue with the intention to overstimulate him if he wasn't laid utterly boneless and not even reacting to you anymore. It's boring to overstimulate someone with no response, after all.

He doesn't even react when you carefully pull off of him and remove the condom to tie off and dispose of in the bin beside your bedside table. You stand beside the bed on weak legs for a second to watch him in wonder and decide that he truly is too out of it right now to even notice your presence; so you dart off to get a large glass of water and drink some yourself, and a damp cloth before returning.

Seungcheol is still lying there with his eyes closed though his breathing is evening out now when you place the cup on the side table and sit on the bed at his side. You carefully start to run the cloth over his sweat-damp body; a shower is really needed but that can wait a little.

Seungcheol makes a soft noise but doesn't react otherwise.

Finally, he opens his eyes when you return from taking the cloth back to the bathroom to toss into the hamper where you also clean between your thighs quickly.

“Hey,” you greet softly, laying down on your right propped up on your elbow at his side to look down at him as your left hand soothes over his chest.

“Hi.” He smiles softly at you, then tiredly rolls over to tuck up against you. You smile at the cute action and turn onto your back to allow him to curl up against your side with his head on your chest, his right arm and leg over you keeping you there. Not that you have any intention to move quite yet.

This is nice.

Your right arm goes around his back and into his hair to play with the strands while your left hand rubs over his forearm, gentle yet firm enough that he knows you're here and not going anywhere. “How're you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Tired,” he mumbles, making you laugh softly.

“Just tired?” He hums in confirmation. “So you're good otherwise? It wasn't too much?”

“No. M'good,” he slurs a little, signalling that he truly is tired enough that sleep is already starting to claim him.

“Yeah, you are. My good boy, huh?” You tease lightly and press a kiss to the top of his head. You're pretty sure you can feel his cheek bunch up against your skin as he smiles in return.

“Your good boy,” he confirms, voice so thick that you know there's no point trying to get him up to shower or eat, even drink despite knowing he really should. It'll have to wait until he wakes.

“Mm, yeah, sleep now baby, we'll talk more later,” you reply, though you're certain he's too close to slumber to really catch the warning.

Regardless, you know that once he's awake and you're certain that he's still genuinely okay, clean and fed, you'll have to talk. A lot has changed in such a short time and hopefully, he will confirm that it's nothing more than sex for him too because the alternative has dread pooling in your gut.

You can't do this again if it's not entirely equal and you kind of have the feeling that there's no going back now that you've had each other like this. Yet, if you can't go forward because of potential feelings on his side, then you're well and truly fucked and not in the way either of you want to be.

Still, that's not something you can discuss right now so you follow Seungcheol's lead and close your eyes. You just hope that when you open them, everything will be alright.

[isak-dot-gov]

Could you please do a follow-up to Rumor Has It where R gets injured but ends up recovering in CT & lives the WAG life while on the sidelines? Thanks

Basketball WAG

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x WWE!Reader

Word count: 1070

My Masterlist :)

The injury was a nightmare. One bad landing in the ring, a snap you couldn’t ignore, and everything changed. What you thought was just a twisted knee was diagnosed as a torn ACL, a wrestling career halter for at least nine months. You’d have to take time away from the WWE, and the road to recovery would be brutal. But the worst part was knowing you couldn’t compete. The roar of the crowd, the thrill of the fight—it all slipped through your fingers as you traded the ring for physical therapy rooms and doctor visits.

Paige was by your side from the start. She’d flown out the second she heard, cutting her own trip short to be there as the doctors explained the surgery, the long rehab process, the toll it would take on your body. Her hand stayed wrapped around yours, steady and reassuring, her eyes filled with a quiet determination that somehow kept you from completely crumbling.

After the surgery, recovery became your full-time job. Paige insisted you stay with her in Connecticut while you healed. You hesitated at first, worried about disrupting her season, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “I want you here,” she’d said simply, her voice steady and resolute. “Besides, Connecticut needs you in the stands.”

You’d been living in Connecticut for a few months now, trading the chaotic travel schedule of WWE for the quieter routines of campus life. Your days were filled with gruelling physical therapy sessions, carefully regimented workouts, and endless ice packs. But every evening, Paige would be there to drive you home, her infectious smile and stories from practice lighting up the end of your day.

As the season started, you embraced your new role as Paige’s personal hype squad. With your crutches, leg brace, and a collection of UConn hoodies, you became a courtside staple at her games. The cameras always found you, and you couldn’t help but grin when Paige would flash you a quick smile before tip-off, mouthing a little “love you” that never failed to make your heart race.

The fans took notice, too. The internet had already gone wild when you and Paige went public, but now the excitement only grew. Photos of you on crutches, decked out in UConn gear, became fan favourites. Someone even made a fan account called “ACL_WAG” where they posted updates of your journey alongside Paige’s highlights. They tagged every picture with #SupportiveWAG and #PowerCoupleGoals, and while you joked about it with Paige, secretly you loved every second of it.

At first, the role of “basketball WAG” felt foreign. You were used to the thrill of competition, the intensity of training, and the satisfaction of a match well-fought. But now, you were cheering from the sidelines, and though it wasn’t the same, it was special in its own way. You’d show up to her games with hand-painted signs, cheering louder than anyone else in the stands, loving every moment of seeing Paige shine.

In the quiet moments, it was just the two of you, and those were some of your favourites. You’d sit together on her apartment couch, legs tangled up as she massaged your sore knee, her thumb tracing gentle circles over the brace. Sometimes, after a particularly good practice or a win, she’d make a special dinner just for the two of you, with pasta, a glass of wine, and her cheesy playlists in the background. She even made little post-rehab care packages with her favourite snacks, motivational notes, and sometimes a little joke, just to make you laugh.

One night, after a particularly tough physical therapy session, you were sprawled on the couch with an ice pack on your knee, grumbling about the lack of progress. Paige wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close as she kissed the top of your head. “You’re going to get back out there,” she said, her voice soft but fierce. “And when you do, I’ll be right there, cheering louder than anyone.”

Her confidence in you was unshakable. When the rehab exercises got too repetitive or you felt the weight of the setback, her encouragement kept you going. She’d remind you that every tiny step was progress, every painful stretch and controlled squat was bringing you closer to the day you’d step back into the ring. You’d never felt so supported.

As the season went on, Paige’s bond with her teammates only grew, and you found yourself becoming part of her world. You’d tag along for team dinners, swapping wrestling stories with her friends, or even sharing tips on training and recovery. Sometimes, the girls would rally around you after a game, giving you high fives and telling you they couldn’t wait to see you back in the ring. Paige’s coach even joked that you’d become a “good luck charm,” showing up at practice whenever the team needed a morale boost.

But the biggest surprise came one Saturday night in February. You’d hit a new milestone in your recovery—walking without crutches. Paige had been waiting for this moment, and as you limped out of your physical therapy session, she wrapped you in a hug so tight you could hardly breathe. That night, she threw you a small party with her friends, decorating the apartment with signs that read “Strong as Ever!” and “ACL Survivor.”

A few weeks later, you’d made enough progress to go without the brace. That night, Paige surprised you with a beach trip, just the two of you. As you walked along the sand together, your knee only slightly sore, you felt something shift. You were finally healing, both physically and mentally. Paige had been there for every painful, frustrating moment, and now, with the gentle ocean breeze and her hand in yours, you felt ready to take the next steps back to the life you loved.

By the end of the season, you were nearly fully recovered. You and Paige had planned a vacation to celebrate her season and your return to the ring, and this time, there was no hiding or sneaking around. The world knew you were Paige’s biggest fan, and she was yours. 

As you prepared for your comeback in the WWE, Paige made sure you knew she’d be there, cheering from the front row, the same way you’d cheered her on all season. This time, the tables would turn, but no matter what happened, you’d always be each other’s number one.

[chestnutninny]

Get Your Girl

Hi! What about a request for Aaron Hotchner x reader where he’s been kind of seeing/dating you but is scared of making it official bc of what happened to Haley but he loves you so much so is in a battle with himself about what to do. And the rest of the team can tell how happy he is with you and they try to convince him to go for it. Angst ending with fluff.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

For the last couple of months, Aaron's usual scowl had disappeared entirely from his face and had been replaced by a smile, one that the team only saw on very rare occasions. The confusion that buzzed through the team hummed around the office, the members whispering about the sudden perk in his attitude. The case that the team had been working on has finally come to an end after a gruelling set of murders, and Aaron was fast to pack up his belongings and speed out of the building, bundling into his car.

He made his way to his apartment ready to get changed into his date attire, expecting your arrival at his front door within the next half an hour. Panic started to set in as it dawned on his that he was running really behind, not even having enough time to fasten the tie around his neck, before the doorbell wrung out through his apartment. He strode towards his front door and looked through the peephole before opening the door.

You stood on the opposite side, wringing your hands in front of you, before looking at to meet his eyes. Your figure was hugged by a short black dress that sat mid thigh, gaining Aaron's attention, which was very wanted. His eyes raked shamelessly up and down your body, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips, before returning his gaze back to your own.

"Hey. You look so gorgeous, Y/N." He smiled, his head lowering slightly as he smiled shyly, almost bashfully.

"You don't look too bad yourself." You smirked, his shyness giving you a slight surge of confidence.

He leaned against the doorframe for a few minutes longer, his eyes glancing over you over and over again, however you were starting to grow slightly impatient.

"Are you going to invite me in, or are we standing here all night?" You joked.

"Sorry...come in." He pushed the door further open, allowing you access to his home.

You had been on a few dates with Hotch, however this was the first time you had been invited to his house, with the promise of a home-cooked meal. He led you to the front room, where you took your seat on his sofa. He came over to where you were residing and set down two glasses on the coffee table, before pouring an ample amount in each glass.

You both indulged into some casual conversation whilst you waited for your food to finish. Eventually, he brought out two steaming plates stacked with huge piles of spaghetti, which you assumed Rossi gave him the recipe for. Your conversation simmered down whilst you ate your food, your slight moan echoing through the room as the taste of the food settled upon your taste buds.

"So...how's work been?" You asked, resuming your talk.

"It's been okay, pretty stressful. But what's new there?" He chuckled to himself. "Although, I've been invited to a Unit partner with the rest of the team.

"Ooh, that's exciting. Are you going to go?"

"Maybe, I'm not too sure just yet." He admitted.

"Maybe I could come with you. It'd be the perfect time to meet the team?" The idea definitely made you nervous, however you'd do pretty much anything for Aaron, and to be able to meet the people he calls family would mean the world to you.

"I don't think that'd be the best idea, Y/N." He stated bluntly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Why not?" You were met with silence. "You haven't even told them about us, have you?"

He sat with his head down, refusing to make eye contact with you. You scoffed before reaching for you bag and jacket, making an abrupt exit from his apartment. Aaron tried to call after you, yet the door slammed over his voice.

You stormed down to the parking lot of his apartment block and slammed your car door behind you. Hot tears streamed down your face as you planted your forehead against the cool leather of your steering wheel. After a few minutes, you gathered yourself and made your way back to your own apartment, the anger boiling through your veins not subsiding in the slightest.

Back at his apartment, Aaron, couldn't help but kick himself. Why didn't he say anything? He knew that he should have opened his mouth and offered for you to come with him to meet his 'family', however after what happened to Haley, he was too afraid to expose you to the horrors of his job, his everyday places.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Monday morning finally moped around and Aaron found himself mindlessly slipping into his suit, throwing all of his belongings into his car before driving of the work. Hid colleagues immediately sensed his foul mood, yet they all new better than to get under his skin more by asking his questions about it. That was until the team gathered around the table after hearing about a new case and Penelope Garcia strutted through the room, her floral perfume lingering behind her.

"Sir, your frown is certainly more visible than usual," she joked, looking around the room at the rest of the team.

Morgan shook his head at her, signalling for her to be quiet. Hotch sighed and buried his head in hands before abruptly standing up and excusing himself to his office. Garcia watched as he exited the room and looked back to her team before offering an apology to them all.

"I think you should be apologising to Hotch, babygirl." Derek remarked, his signature smirk taking over his features once again.

"I'll go and talk to him." JJ stated, before vacating her own seat at the round table.

Once she had reached his office, three knocks rung out from the wooden door, echoing throughout his spacious office. He waited a few moments before calling that the door was open. He straightened his back and cleared his throat as he watched JJ make her way into the room, settling down on the corner of his desk.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" She questioned after a few minutes of awkward silence.

Hotch lifted his head slightly, unspilled tears forming in the corners of his eyes. JJ forwned in confusion, but waited for him to talk. He cleared his throat and blinked a few times before speaking.

"I've been seeing this woman for a while now, but I'm too scared to make things official after Haley's death." He admitted, shaking his head at how pathetic he sounded.

"So that's why you've been so smiley lately?" She questioned, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He chuckled at her antics before nodding his head nervously, which was very out of character for him.

"Honestly, I saw just go for it. You know the team will always have your back and we just want you to be happy. I'd love to meet her, she must be great to make you this happy, Hotch."

Aaron considered her words before agreeing with her.

"You're right. I deserve to be happy and she's the one I can see myself being happy with."

"Go and get your girl."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You swung your apartment door opened, the delicate petals of your favourite flowers clouding your vision. You gasped in surprise when Hotch's head poked up from behind them, a small yet nervous smile appearing on his face.

"Hey." He greeted, his teeth carefully chewing the inside of his cheek as he waited for your response.

"Hi." You responded, a bit confused.

You hadn't heard off Aaron for a few days since your incident, however you couldn't deny that it felt so good to see him again, to see him stood at your door.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N. If you'd give me a second chance, I'd love for you to come and meet my team?" He proposed, his eyes full of hope.

"Of course. But you have to tell me what's going on."

You pushed the door open more for him to enter, and you both spoke about everything whilst you got ready to go and meet his team

The rest of the night was filled with laughs, jokes and hand holding, with it fair share of drinks and delicate kisses placed upon your cheek and head.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Taglist: @borinxnovakxprentiss @chloeelou02x @moonlightjxuregui @zolofts (join my taglist here)

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Sending you "Glasses" for the writing prompt with a side of fluffy!

Thank you for the cute prompt 🩶

****

The thing is, Tommy wasn’t that much older than Buck—it was only 7 years numerically. It’s just that he seemed older. His sense of self, his confidence and how level headed he was gave him the air of somebody who was older.

Buck liked to tease him about it sometimes. He’d refer to him and “old man”, or when he’d fall asleep watching a movie, justifiably—you try staying awake after a gruelling 48 shift, thank you very much!— Buck would call him grandpa.

It was playful teasing and Tommy didn’t mind.

But really, his older mentality was a comfort to Buck; made him feel stable when he was getting all up in his own head. Again.

Buck had tried, really REALLY tried, over the last 5 months to not get ahead of himself with Tommy. It had been an incredible five months, for both of them, but Buck was determined to not rush into things like he had with previous relationships.

But he couldn’t deny his feelings for Tommy were deep. He was half convinced that if you cut him open, “properly of Tommy Kinard” would be stamped on each and every organ he possessed.

He hadn’t said those precious three words yet—neither of them had—but each day it was getting harder and harder to resist blurting them out. If he was completely honest with himself he’d felt it about a month in, but was terrified he’d be seen as his usual impulsive self and Tommy would run a mile.

It was getting truly difficult to not picture a future with Tommy when he did things that drove Bucks heart crazy. Little things, mostly, like changing his laundry detergent because Buck didn’t like the smell of the one he used to use. Or taking the time to learn how to make Bobbys famous lasagne because he knew Buck loved it. Even when he was texting Buck to chastise him for not eating breakfast before his shift because “..your health is important and you can’t save lives if you’re not taking care of your own.”

What tipped Buck across the line from ‘I love this man’ to ‘oh my god I want to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies’, however, was something so small; so unimportant and unintentional on Tommys part that he could have missed it.

He’d had a long shift—call after call after call— and was three hours later to Tommy’s house than he had planned to be there. He let himself in with the key that Tommy had given him two months in and walked into the living room after dumping his bag by the door.

“Hey, Tommy, I’m-“

He stopped at the sight in front of him. His mouth curved into a smile as his entire stomach and chest filled with butterflies, and his heart grew three sizes.

Tommy, fast asleep, head fallen back against the back of the sofa, book in his lap and reading glasses resting on the edge of his nose. Suddenly, Buck had a glimpse of their future.

He looked like a dad.

He could picture Tommy “resting his eyes” exhausted from lack of sleep and their newborn daughter resting softly on his chest. Tears welled in his eyes at the prospect of that kind of future with him.

He walked over and gently sat down, running his hand down Tommy face softly and cupping his cheek, pressing a delicate kiss onto his temple. Tommy stirred with a hum and his eyes fluttered open to be met with Bucks.

He slid his arms around Bucks waist and nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck.

Buck didn’t even had to think about it. The words were in his throat and on his tongue and ready to be let out into the world.

“I love you.” He whispered into Tommys hair.

Tommy squeezed Buck a little harder. “I love you, too

[callsigns-haze]

You knew? Part 3 of 3

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader! Callsign Ace

Chapter Summary: A fierce rivalry between two Navy pilots, Ace and Rooster, turns into a deeper connection as they confront their fears, emotions, and unspoken feelings after a near-fatal incident forces them to rely on each other.

This chapter contains themes of emotional conflict, betrayal, and recovery from a near-death experience, mentions of inequality and anxiety. Expect tense dialogue and unresolved emotions

Two months had passed since Ace's crash, and the recovery process had been slow, gruelling, and at times, frustrating. After three weeks in the hospital, where she’d undergone multiple procedures and endured long days of observation, she had been released to start physical therapy. The last few weeks had been filled with rehab, regaining mobility and strength in her battered body. Her right wrist was still wrapped in a brace, a constant reminder of the crash, and a knee brace stabilized her leg. Three fingers on her left hand were splinted, but despite all that, tomorrow was the day she had been waiting for—her return to work.

Today, though, was about one last bit of self-care. Penny and Amelia had come over to help her wash her hair, a simple luxury she hadn’t been able to manage easily on her own in weeks. Now, they were gathered around the kitchen sink in Penny’s cozy house, sunlight streaming through the windows and casting a warm glow over the room.

Ace sat in a chair pulled up to the sink, her head tilted back as Penny worked the shampoo through her hair, fingers gentle but firm. Amelia stood nearby, holding a towel and chatting animatedly with her mother and Ace as she helped by handing Penny anything she needed.

“You're so lucky you get to go back to work tomorrow," Amelia said, her youthful energy spilling over into every word. “You must be excited.”

Ace smiled faintly, though the truth was, excitement wasn’t the only emotion swirling in her chest. "Excited? Yeah, sure. But also a little nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve flown, and I’m not exactly in perfect shape yet.” She wiggled her splinted fingers as if to emphasize the point.

Penny chuckled softly, rinsing out the shampoo with warm water. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. You’ve been working so hard to get back, and everyone at the base knows you’re tough as nails. Besides, you're just easing into things, right? No dogfights on your first day back.”

Ace sighed, the warm water soothing as it ran through her hair. “Yeah, I’m just doing some simulations and light training, nothing crazy. But you know how it is, there’s always that pressure to be perfect, especially with everyone watching.”

Penny glanced down at her, a reassuring smile on her face. “No one expects you to be perfect. Just take it slow. You’ve been through a lot, and you need to give yourself credit for how far you’ve come.”

Amelia nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, besides, with all that cool gear you’ve got—" she motioned to the wrist brace and knee brace with a playful grin, “—you look like a total superhero.”

Ace laughed, the sound bubbling up from her chest in a way that felt good. Light. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely rocking the superhero vibe.”

Penny finished rinsing the last of the shampoo from Ace’s hair and reached for the conditioner. “You’ll be back to your old self in no time. And it’s okay to ask for help when you need it. You’ve got people who care about you.”

Ace went quiet for a moment, thinking about those words. People who cared. She hadn’t made it easy for them, not with the way she had been avoiding Rooster, Hangman, and even Phoenix since the whole email mess. She’d kept her distance from the Dagger Squad, focusing on recovery and shutting out anything else. But Penny was right—she wasn’t alone.

“You’re right,” Ace said finally, her voice softer. “I guess I’ve just been too stubborn to realize it.”

Penny smiled knowingly as she worked the conditioner through Ace’s hair. “It’s okay to be stubborn sometimes. Just not when it keeps you from letting people in.”

Amelia chimed in again. “Yeah, like us! You know we’re here to help you with anything. Even something as simple as washing your hair.”

Ace smiled again, the warmth of their kindness washing over her like the water from the sink. “Thanks, shortstack. I really appreciate this. I didn’t think I’d miss something as small as having clean hair.”

Penny chuckled, gently massaging the conditioner into Ace’s scalp. “Sometimes it’s the little things that make the biggest difference, especially when you’re healing. You’ve earned a bit of pampering.”

Amelia handed Penny a comb, and she carefully started working through Ace’s damp hair. “And speaking of pampering, maybe you should take tomorrow easy. Just focus on getting back in the cockpit, not proving anything to anyone.”

Ace exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of that advice. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I don’t have to prove anything… except that I can still kick everyone’s ass when I’m fully healed.”

Amelia grinned, stepping closer with the towel. “That’s the spirit! Just make sure you wait until you’re totally ready. We don’t need another close call.”

--

The sun was barely rising as Ace pulled into the parking lot at the base, the familiar hum of engines and the sight of planes in the distance reminding her of how much she had missed this. Today was the day she would finally return to work, and despite the aches in her body and the braces she still wore, a part of her felt more alive than she had in months.

As she parked her car and grabbed her bag, she spotted a familiar figure waiting by the edge of the lot—tall, with a cocky grin already plastered on his face. Hangman. Her wingman. He waved at her, his ever-present confidence practically radiating from him.

Weeks ago, they had finally made amends after the email debacle. Despite his tendency to be a total douche, he had been the first to apologize, and Ace, knowing they were bound as wingmen, had accepted. Their relationship had always been complicated, but they’d grown closer after everything. He was still cocky and annoying, but he was her wingman, and that meant something.

As soon as she stepped out of the car, he called out to her. “Well, well, if it isn’t the bionic woman herself! Ready to fly again?”

Ace rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t start, Hangman. I’m barely back, and you’re already running your mouth.”

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t,” he shot back, striding over to her with his easy, swaggering gait.

Before she could say anything more, Hangman’s arms were open, and in a rare display of softness, Ace ran into his hug. His arms wrapped around her tightly, and for a moment, she let herself relax into it. It felt good. Comforting, even.

“Missed you, Ace,” he said, his voice softer than usual as he held her close. “It wasn’t the same without you out there.”

She chuckled against his shoulder before pulling back slightly to look up at him. “Missed me or missed someone keeping you in line?”

“Both,” he admitted with a grin, his green eyes twinkling. “But mostly you.”

She rolled her eyes again, playfully shoving him back. “Alright, don’t get all sentimental on me. You’re still a douche.”

“And you’re still a pain in my ass, but I guess that’s why we work so well together,” he shot back, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they started walking toward the hangars.

The early morning air was crisp, and the base was already buzzing with activity as they walked, the sound of jets warming up in the background. Ace felt a sense of relief wash over her. This was her world—the adrenaline, the camaraderie, the sky. And as much as she liked to pretend she didn’t care, having Hangman by her side meant something. He wasn’t just a wingman in the air; he was one on the ground, too.

“So,” Hangman started, his arm still draped around her as they made their way toward the flight deck, “what’s the plan? You gonna take it easy, or are you back to kicking ass right away?”

Ace smirked, glancing up at him. “You know me. I never do anything halfway.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I figured as much. Just try not to break any more bones, alright?”

“Only if you keep your mouth in check,” she teased.

“Deal,” he said, grinning widely.

-

Rooster and Phoenix were sitting in the briefing room, catching up on the day’s assignments before the pilots gathered for the afternoon’s debrief. Rooster was flipping through a stack of paperwork, while Phoenix studied a training report, their conversation flowing easily between them.

“You know,” Phoenix began, glancing up from her report, “I saw Hangman and Ace talking in the parking lot this morning. It looked like they were actually... getting along.”

Rooster looked up, a skeptical eyebrow raised. “Hangman and Ace? Really? After everything that’s happened?”

“Yeah,” Phoenix replied with a nod. “I know it’s been a mess, but it seems like they finally patched things up. They were hugging and joking around. It’s good to see them talking, especially after how things went down.”

Rooster sighed, setting down his paperwork. “I suppose it’s good. Hangman’s an ass sometimes, but he’s still a part of the team. And Ace... well, she deserves to have things settled. It’s been rough for her.”

Phoenix nodded in agreement. “Definitely. I think it’s a step in the right direction. Everyone’s been a bit on edge, and having some harmony back will help. She’s been through enough already.”

Rooster leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. “Yeah. I guess it’s nice to see some normalcy returning. I just hope she’s ready for the workload. It’s not going to be a walk in the park.”

“True,” Phoenix said, “but I think she’s more than ready. She’s a tough one, after all.”

-

As Ace and Hangman walked into the hangar, their presence didn’t go unnoticed. The air was charged with anticipation as pilots from different squadrons looked up from their desks. The chatter in the hangar hushed, and one by one, the pilots began to stand up, clapping and cheering as Ace made her way through.

Ace’s cheeks flushed slightly at the unexpected reception, but she couldn’t hide her smile. The applause was a testament to how much she had been missed, and the camaraderie she had felt throughout her career was palpable. Hangman grinned at her, his usual cocky demeanour softened by a rare moment of genuine pride.

“Looks like they missed you,” Hangman said, his voice loud enough for her to hear over the clapping.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Ace replied, a mix of emotions crossing her face as she acknowledged the warm welcome. “It feels good to be back.”

As they continued to walk toward their desks, Cyclone approached them, his expression serious but not unfriendly. He was one of the senior officers, known for his no-nonsense attitude and his role in maintaining the high standards of the squadron.

“Ace,” Cyclone said, extending a hand. “Welcome back. I see you’ve made a full recovery.”

“Thanks, Cyclone,” Ace replied, shaking his hand firmly.

Cyclone’s gaze was steady as he regarded her. “There’s something we need to discuss, though. Before you get back into the thick of things, I need to give you the ‘getting shot’ talk.”

Ace’s smile faded slightly as she nodded, taking a step closer. Hangman, sensing the seriousness of the conversation, gave Ace a supportive pat on the back before stepping back to give them space.

Cyclone led her to a quieter corner of the hangar, away from the bustling activity. “Look, Ace,” he began, his tone serious but not harsh, “you’ve been through a lot. We’re all thrilled you’re back, but I need to remind you of the risks.”

Ace nodded, her face turning serious as she listened. “I understand, Cyclone.”

“The job isn’t forgiving,” Cyclone continued, “and while we’re all rooting for you, I need to make sure you’re aware of what you’re getting back into. Things might not always go as planned, and you need to be prepared for the worst-case scenarios.”

“I’m ready,” Ace said firmly. “I’ve been through a lot, and I’m ready to face whatever comes my way.”

Cyclone studied her for a moment, then nodded approvingly. “Good. I know you’ve got the skills and the determination. Just remember, even with everything you’ve been through, don’t push yourself beyond your limits. The squad needs you at your best, and that means taking care of yourself.”

“I will,” Ace promised. “I’m not planning to take unnecessary risks.”

Cyclone’s stern expression softened slightly as he clapped her on the shoulder. “Alright then. Just remember we’re all here for you. Now, go get settled in. We’ve got work to do.”

As Cyclone walked away, Ace returned to her desk, her heart warmed by the support she had received from her fellow pilots and the encouraging words from Cyclone. The applause and the talk had reinforced her resolve, reminding her that she was not just returning to work, but stepping back into a community that valued her.

--

Ace stepped into the break room, hoping to grab a quick coffee before the next round of meetings. She was grateful for a moment of peace after the overwhelming reception she had gotten that morning. The applause had been heart-warming, but she still wasn’t sure how to handle all the attention. Her wrist brace rubbed against her skin, a constant reminder that she wasn’t fully healed. The splints on her fingers made even small tasks feel clumsy, and the knee brace pulled with every step. She just wanted to get through the day without feeling like everyone was watching her every move.

As she filled her cup, she heard the door to the break room open and felt a familiar presence behind her. Rooster.

Ace stiffened, trying to focus on the sound of coffee pouring into the mug. She hadn’t spoken much to Rooster since the email incident months ago, and the tension between them had only grown. She’d made it her mission to avoid any serious confrontation, especially after everything that had happened. But now, in this small break room, there was no escape.

"Hey," Rooster's voice cut through the quiet, low and cautious.

Ace glanced over her shoulder, giving him a quick nod before turning back to her coffee. “Hey,” she mumbled, hoping to keep the exchange brief.

But Rooster’s eyes weren’t on her face. They were locked on her wrist brace, his gaze then traveling down to her splinted fingers, and finally her knee. She could feel his eyes on her, taking in every bit of evidence of her injuries.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice thick with concern.

Ace forced a small smile, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a few bumps and bruises.”

Rooster didn’t buy it. His brow furrowed, and the usual lightness in his eyes was replaced by something heavier. “Ace… you don’t have to act tough all the time.”

She bristled at that, her hand tightening around the mug. “I’m not acting tough. I am tough,” she shot back, a bit more sharply than she intended.

Rooster sighed, stepping a little closer. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I don’t get why you hate me so much.”

The words hit Ace like a punch to the gut. She froze, staring into the coffee as if it could give her the answer to what had been brewing inside her for so long. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel her walls starting to crack, but she wasn’t ready to go there. Not now. Not with him.

“I don’t hate you,” she said quietly, but the lie was thin.

Rooster shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. “No, you do. You’ve hated me for years, Ace, and I don’t know why. Is it because of the email thing? Or is it something else?”

The dam inside her finally broke. She slammed her cup down on the counter, the sound loud and jarring in the small room. Her whole body tensed as she spun around to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and pain.

“You want to know why?” she shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of years of pent-up frustration. “It’s because all my life, I’ve had to prove that I’m better than you! Every. Single. Time. I’ve had to fight tooth and nail just to be seen as your equal!”

Rooster blinked, taken aback by the intensity of her outburst, but she wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it, Bradley. You never had to. You walk into a room, and people respect you. You get the benefit of the doubt. But me? I have to prove myself every single time because I’m a woman. And it’s not enough to just be as good as you. I have to be better. I have to be perfect, because if I’m not, no one gives me a second look.”

Her voice was rising now, years of resentment spilling out like a flood she could no longer contain. “Every time you were just a few points behind me, you still got the job, the promotion, the respect. You got to fly, and I had to fight for every damn mission! And why? Because I wasn’t a man? Because no one believed I could be as good as you?”

Rooster stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, but the words wouldn’t come. He had never seen her like this—so raw, so exposed. The anger in her voice shook him to his core.

Ace was breathing heavily now, her hands trembling as she tried to keep it together. “Do you know what that feels like?” she continued, her voice breaking. “To have to prove over and over that you’re good enough? And even when I do, it’s still not enough! I almost died out there, Rooster. I almost didn’t make it, and no one would’ve cared because to them, I’m just a woman trying to play in the boys’ club!”

Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let herself break in front of him. Not completely.

Rooster finally found his voice, though it was hoarse and low. “Ace, I didn’t know… I didn’t realize it was like that for you.”

“Of course you didn’t,” she spat, her voice laced with bitterness. “You never had to think about it.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily between them. Rooster didn’t know what to say, how to fix the wound he hadn’t even realized existed. All he could do was stand there, staring at her as she stood on the edge of breaking down.

“I don’t hate you, Rooster,” Ace finally said, her voice quieter now, full of exhaustion. “But I hate how easy it is for you. And I hate that I have to work twice as hard just to be seen.”

Rooster stepped closer, reaching out as if to touch her arm, but he stopped himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never wanted you to feel like that.”

Ace shook her head, wiping at her eyes roughly. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just the way it is.”

Rooster looked at her, his own emotions conflicted, guilt weighing heavily on him. He wanted to say more, to fix it somehow, but nothing seemed enough.

-

The room was buzzing with energy, pilots eager to get up in their jets, but everyone quieted as Maverick cleared his throat.

“Alright, listen up,” Maverick started, his voice carrying the authority that came from years of experience. “Today, we’re pairing up for some head-to-head dogfights. I want you pushing yourselves, testing your limits, and working together. Your teams are as follows: Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob—your trio is up against Hangman and Ace.”

Ace felt her heart skip a beat. A dogfight against Rooster? After everything that had gone down between them, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to be in direct competition with him again. But she wasn’t about to back down. Not now. Not after everything she’d fought through to get back here.

“Get in your daggers and take to the sky,” Maverick said, his eyes scanning the group. “Give me your best. I’ll be monitoring from the ground.”

Ace exchanged a glance with Hangman, who gave her a confident smirk. “Ready to show them what we’re made of?” he asked, his voice oozing with cocky enthusiasm.

She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Always.”

The Daggers launched into the sky, their jets slicing through the air like knives. Ace settled into the cockpit of her F/A-18, the familiar weight of her helmet and the tight confines of the jet making her feel at home. It had been weeks since she’d been in a full-on dogfight, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins told her she was more than ready.

“Alright, Ace,” Hangman’s voice crackled through her headset, “let’s take it to them.”

“Copy that,” she replied, her voice steady, though inside she felt the rush of anticipation building.

Up ahead, Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob were already in formation, their planes glinting in the sunlight. Rooster’s jet took point, with Phoenix and Bob flanking him. They were an experienced team, and she knew they wouldn’t be easy to take down.

The exercise began with the two teams on opposite ends of the airspace. As soon as Maverick gave the signal, they surged forward, closing the gap between them.

“Stay sharp,” Hangman said, his voice calm but with an edge of excitement. “We’ll break off, keep them guessing.”

“Got it,” Ace replied, her hands tightening on the controls.

Rooster’s team was the first to engage, diving toward them in a sharp descent. Ace quickly banked left, feeling the g-force pull her hard against her seat. Hangman followed suit, both of them splitting up to force Rooster’s team to make a decision—go after her or Hangman.

“Phoenix, Bob, take Hangman. I’ve got Ace,” Rooster called out through the radio, his voice filled with determination.

Ace’s heart raced as she heard Rooster’s voice in her headset, knowing he’d chosen to target her. She pushed her jet to its limits, pulling tight turns and diving low, trying to shake him. But Rooster was relentless, sticking close behind her, his jet always in her rear-view.

“You’re not gonna shake me that easy, Ace,” Rooster’s voice taunted over the radio.

She gritted her teeth, refusing to let him get the upper hand. “We’ll see about that,” she muttered under her breath.

Ahead, she saw her chance—a controlled stall. It was a risky manoeuvre, especially with her recent history, but if she timed it right, she could drop below Rooster, forcing him to overshoot her.

Without hesitation, Ace pulled back hard on the throttle, her jet climbing steeply into the sky. At the apex, she cut the engines, allowing her jet to stall, hanging momentarily in the air before beginning its fall.

Rooster shot past her, his jet zooming overhead as he lost sight of her. It worked. But just as Ace went to flick the engines back on, nothing happened.

For a split second, panic surged through her. The jet was still falling, the ground coming up fast, and her fingers flicked the switches again and again, waiting for the familiar hum of the engines roaring back to life.

“Come on, come on…” she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. The cockpit was eerily quiet, the stall lasting longer than it should have.

Finally, with a sputter and a roar, the engines kicked back in, sending her jet lurching forward. But the delay had been enough to send her heart racing, and the brief moment of terror still gripped her. She levelled out, her breathing heavy, her hands slightly trembling on the controls.

“I’m calling it,” she said into the radio, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “I’m done for the day. Requesting permission to land.”

There was a pause, and then Maverick’s calm voice came over the comms. “Permission granted, Ace. Take her in.”

Ace steadied her jet, bringing it around toward the base. Hangman’s voice crackled through her headset, concern lacing his tone. “You alright, Ace?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, though her voice lacked its usual edge. “Just need to get on the ground.”

As she began her descent toward the runway, the rest of the Daggers continued their dogfight above. But Ace’s focus was solely on landing her plane. Her mind replayed the moment of panic over and over, the feeling of helplessness as the engine refused to start.

The second Ace’s plane touched the ground, she didn’t waste a moment. As soon as her jet came to a stop on the tarmac, she popped the canopy, her breath shallow and hurried. She climbed down from the cockpit, her legs wobbly beneath her, but she didn’t wait for anyone. Not the ground crew, not the Dagger squad, no one.

Without making eye contact with anyone, Ace pulled off her helmet and sprinted across the base, straight toward the changing rooms. Her vision tunnelled, her heart racing in her chest, and her only focus was on getting away from the eyes of her teammates. The air felt too thick, too hot, pressing in on her from all sides. She could hear her own shallow breathing in her ears, louder than the hum of engines behind her. Her hands were trembling, the adrenaline that had once fuelled her now turning into something darker—panic.

As she reached the door to the changing rooms, she shoved it open and slammed it behind her. The room was empty, silent, but it did little to calm the storm building inside her. Ace leaned against the locker, her hands gripping the cool metal as she gasped for air. Her chest tightened, and her head swam as the reality of what had happened in the air hit her with full force. She had lost control. She could’ve crashed. The panic she had fought off in the sky was now consuming her, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Dagger squad began their descent. Hangman, Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob touched down one after the other, the adrenaline of the dogfight still buzzing in their veins. Hangman glanced over to the spot where Ace’s jet had landed and frowned. She was already gone, no sign of her anywhere on the tarmac.

“Where did she go?” Phoenix asked, her voice concerned as she climbed out of her jet.

Rooster’s eyes followed the path Ace had taken, his gut twisting. “I think she went to the changing rooms,” he muttered, already moving before anyone could stop him.

Hangman watched him with a knowing look, but said nothing. Phoenix and Bob exchanged glances, but they didn’t ask questions. They knew something was wrong—everyone could feel it in the air.

Rooster didn’t wait to hear anything else. He jogged across the tarmac, his heart pounding in his chest, not from the flight but from the fear that something was wrong with Ace. The way she had bolted from her jet, the way she avoided them—something wasn’t right.

He reached the door to the changing rooms and hesitated for a split second before pushing it open. The moment he stepped inside, he heard it—the sound of rapid, shallow breaths, gasps that echoed off the walls. His heart clenched as he rounded the corner and saw her.

Ace was sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the lockers, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her helmet and flight gear were tossed carelessly to the side, and her hands were gripping the fabric of her flight suit so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, and tears streaked down her face as she struggled to breathe, each breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Hey, hey,” Rooster said softly, rushing to her side and kneeling down in front of her. “Ace, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

She didn’t respond, her chest heaving as she tried to pull in air, but it wasn’t coming fast enough. She was lost in the panic, trapped in the fear that had taken hold of her.

Rooster’s heart broke at the sight of her like this, so strong and fierce but now unravelling in front of him. Without thinking, he reached out and gently took her hands in his, prying them away from her flight suit. “Ace, look at me,” he urged, his voice low and calming. “Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe.”

Her eyes flickered to his, but she still looked far away, her breaths coming in harsh pants. Rooster squeezed her hands, grounding her in the present. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Come on, you can do this.”

He demonstrated, taking slow, deep breaths, and after a few seconds, Ace began to follow his lead. Her breaths were still shaky, but they were slowing down, becoming more controlled. Rooster didn’t let go of her hands, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against her skin.

“That’s it, you’re doing great,” he whispered, watching as the tension in her shoulders slowly began to release. “Just keep breathing.”

After a few minutes, Ace’s breathing evened out, and she slumped back against the lockers, her chest still rising and falling rapidly but no longer in a full-blown panic. Rooster stayed close, his hands still holding hers, not saying anything for a moment, just giving her time to collect herself.

When she finally looked at him, her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

“I—I lost control up there,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. “I could’ve crashed. I don’t know what happened…”

Rooster shook his head softly, moving closer. “You didn’t crash,” he said firmly. “You handled it. You brought the plane down. You’re here, Ace. You’re okay.”

She swallowed hard, the weight of what had almost happened still heavy on her chest. “I panicked… I don’t panic.”

Rooster reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch soft and reassuring. “You’re human. Even the best of us get scared sometimes.”

She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself, but the vulnerability was too much. “I thought I was past this. I thought I could handle it…”

Rooster leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against hers. “You don’t have to handle everything alone,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted to be better than you, Ace. I’ve always just wanted to fly with you.”

Her breath hitched, and she opened her eyes, meeting his. He gave her a small, tender smile, the usual cocky bravado gone, replaced with genuine care.

“I’ve always cared about you,” he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted to compete with you. I just wanted to be beside you.”

Before she could say anything, Rooster pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. It wasn’t romantic—it was comforting, grounding. He was showing her that she wasn’t alone.

Ace’s heart swelled with a mix of emotions—relief, fear, gratitude, and something she couldn’t quite name. She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath, leaning into him just a little.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she had to prove anything. Not to him. Not to anyone.

This sure took a while but I reached 1k and thought I should finish it!

[mysaintkitten]

smut with cillian murphy at the golden globes? am i crazy?

Claim Your Prize | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

!!disclaimer!! this fic does Not represent Cillian as a person, we love and support Yvonne here. this is simply for fun/fantasy! :3

WARNINGS: SMUT (MINORS DNI), public-ish sex, mirrors are involved, kind of sweet sex i think lol, creampie (of course)

“And the award goes to …”

A moment of silence and anticipation fills the room as the announcers carefully pry open the envelop containing the winners name. Beneath the table, you anxiously grab Cillian’s hand. He squeezes it gently in response.

“Cillian Murphy!”

As soon as his name escapes their lips, a wave of relief and appreciation crash over you. Finally, the most hardworking man you know is getting the admiration he deserves.

The people around you clap and cheer, and before Cillian heads up to accept his award you give him a quick hug and a kiss. A brief glimpse into the intimacy the two of you regularly share, yet are never public about it.

It then all becomes a beautiful, hectic blur. As cillian stands in front of everyone accepting his award, he seems to find all the right words to say, and all the right ways to say it. All you can do is stand back and watch him, giving him your utmost respect as he gives his thanks.

When his speech is over and the announcers move on to the next category, you get up from your table to meet Cillian half way. Since the rooms so tightly packed, the best route along the outer edges. As soon as he makes you out in the crowd he smiles happily at you, his eyes beaming with energy and gratitude.

Once you’re face to face, he hugs you again, tighter, finally getting a chance to hold you like he’d initially wanted to when they first announce his win.

Whilst getting ready earlier, you couldn’t help but brainstorm different ways to “reward” Cillian if he won. He isn’t very materialistic, and you knew that the only thing he truly wanted from you was your support, to stand by him whether he won or lost.

But you wanted more, you had to give him something you knew he needed after all these gruelling months of seemingly endless work.

So, after slipping into your dress for the event, you slipped off your panties directly after. Wanting Cillian to have as easy access as possible if he wins.

And now you’re here, wearing no panties underneath your dress, while hugging your winner of a husband.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper softly in his ear, turning your head a bit more to give him a kiss on the cheek, “so proud.”

He hums back, briefly nuzzling into your kisses before copying your gestures and kissing you on the cheek, leaving small quick pecks until he ended up back at your lips where he kissed you properly.

The kiss is passionate, warm, not yet sexual but you knew how easily it could fall into that territory.

“I have a gift for you,” you purr in his ear before dragging your fingers along his back, planting a small kiss on his neck and then pulling away.

“What is it?” Cillian asks, earnestly curious, he looks down for a moment but quickly realizes you aren’t carrying anything with you. With a mischievous grin, you grab his hand and lead him away to a private area. You’re able to sneak away quite easily, everyone else is much too fixated on the next winner anyway.

The hallways are vacant for the most part, a few scattered workers here and there, but all you’re thinking about is getting Cillian alone.

Whilst roaming the halls, you spot the bathroom. A unisex, single bathroom. Although it’s not ideal, it’s the best you’ll find in a place like this. Once Cillian sees where you’re heading, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out what your “gift” may entail.

After taking one more good look around, you decide the coast is clear enough and you both sneak into the bathroom before promptly locking the door.

It’s nothing special. A toilet, a sink, a mirror, what you’d normally expect to find in a bathroom. Luckily for you, the room had clearly just been cleaned. The counters and mirrors were spotless, and it smelt faintly of lemon and fresh laundry.

You swiftly turn around to face Cillian, placing your hands on the counter behind you, that sneaky little grin still spread across your lips.

With an equally naughty smile, Cillian presses his body against yours, him too placing his hands on the counter.

“So, what kind of gift does my lovely wife have in mind?” Cillian teases, kissing you gently on the lips, his voice lowers before he speaks again. “One that we need to be all alone for …”

The warmth between your legs intensifies, and the pressure of his body alone is enough to make your brain fuzzy. You drape your arms around his neck, briefly running your fingers through his hair.

“Just wanted to give you a little something that I know you’ve been missing,” you coo innocently, “something that you deserve after all this long …”

You pause for effect,

“And hard …” your voice becomes breathier as bring an arm down off his neck and snake it between your bodies, your grasp landing between his legs to palm him through his trousers, “work.”

Cillian growls, deeply inhaling your sweet and comforting smell, “you don’t know how much I’ve missed this.”

Quickly, Cillian turns you around, your hips now against the edge of the counter top. And now, you’re met with your own reflection. Both you and Cill with flushed cheeks and slightly messy hair, your makeup smeared around the edges of your lips while Cillian’s have a faint red-ish hue from your lipstick.

“I’ve missed this, too,” you sigh as your arousal stirs within you, at this point you don’t doubt that your wetness has made its way to your inner thighs. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“S’all thanks to you, really …” Cillian groans against your neck, kissing the skin hungrily. “You’re the only thing that’s kept me fuckin’ sane throughout all of this.”

“Cill …” you giggle at his sweet words, your fingers carding through his hair while he stands behind you, his grip on your hips tightens and you feel him roll his hips against your ass. His warm bulge just begging to be freed.

“Honest,” he defends, “while I was on set, or late at night when I couldn’t sleep, the only thing that brought me peace was you.”

Despite how sweet Cillian’s being, you didn’t take him in here to some exchange kind words or swap some spit.

“You’ve got me here now,” you make eye contact in the mirror, his pupils blown and swimming with lust, “claim your prize.”

The palms of his run along your stomach, his head dipping down to place a kiss onto your neck before bringing his eyes back up to your reflection. Those same palms find your hips, gently gripping the soft skin before sliding his hands down further around your thighs.

He begins to grab at the material hanging down your legs, attempting to hike up your dress as best he can. You bite your lip and give him some assistance in pulling up the fabric, eager for him to see the little surprise you have for him.

Once your dress is lifted up enough, Cillian groans at the beauty in front of him. Your ass on clear display, no panties or tights obstructing his view.

“Were you like this the entire time?”

He watches you nod, a proud smile spread across your lips with your bottom lip still tucked between your teeth. With a smirk he shakes his head, quickly unzipping and unbuttoning his trousers. He pulls them down just enough to allow his cock to spring free, and you feel his hot member pressing against your ass.

Cillian dips a hand down between your legs from behind, trailing his middle finger along the slick seam of your pussy. He dips his finger in, moaning lowly at the warmth and wetness of your core.

“Jesus, baby. Missed my cock that badly, huh?”

You nod while watching him through the mirror, completely transfixed by the sensation of his body against yours along with Cillian’s effortless beauty and sex appeal. You’ve never had a partner that knew which buttons to press as well as Cillian, he could read you like a book.

A small sharp inhale is sucked from your lips when you feel the tip of his length teasing your pussy, smearing your arousal around before gently prodding at your opening.

“Look at yourself when I put it in.” Cillian purrs in your ear, sneaking a large hand up to your neck, gripping your neck and jaw and moving your head forward, forcing you to face your own pleasure.

Already you feel some small amounts of embarrassment, your cheeks are all flushed and your hairs all messy- how could you look so ruined already?

Before you can think too much, Cillian’s pushing his cock inside, slowly. You watch yourself as your mouth starts to hang open, and your brows pinch together. You feel his cock nearly splitting you open, giving you that oh so familiar sweet stretch that you’d been craving after all this time.

“You’ve gotten so fuckin’ tight …” Cillian groans from behind, his warm breath against your neck causing your body to shiver. “You missed getting filled up like this, sweetheart?”

You nod, panting heavily while barely being able to keep your eyes open. His hips roll back out before harshly snapping back in, forcing a pathetic whimper to slip from your lips.

“Yes, yes!” You moan, gripping the edge of the counter as Cillian’s grip on your jaw tightens. Your eyes crack back open and you see your own face again, the pure pleasure he’s giving you leaves you almost unrecognizable in your own eyes. “Missed y-you and your cock-k so much … love you so much …”

It wasn’t very common of either of you to say ‘I love you’ during sex. You’d say it regularly before and after the act, but during? Rarely happened. But since you’ve missed Cillian so much, and he’s been so busy, and now that all his hard work has paid off- it only felt right.

Well, that and the fact that you were already getting cock drunk off of him, your brain barely processing whatever words are coming from your mouth.

“Love you too, darling.” He breathes, kissing your neck while thrusting into you roughly, your hips pushing so harshly against the counter you’re certain it’ll leave a bruise. You don’t care. If anything, you want it to bruise. You want the physical reminder that your husband gave you a good, hard fucking after so many months of separation.

“Love your face, and how cute you look when you’ve got a cock inside you,” Cillian teases, nipping at the shell of your ear before kissing your neck again. “Love this pussy …”

“Fuck-“ you gasp, already feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to form. You really want to make this last, but it’s all been building up within you for far too long now.

“Love, love, love you, my sweet girl.”

“I-I- fuck-“ embarrassment pangs inside you, already too ruined to properly respond to him. Even though you hate it, you know Cillian adores it. While pounding into you, he feels your channel become slicker around him, the subtle sound of your wetness filling the room combined with some mewls and heavy breaths.

“C-Cill, gettin’ close-“ you warn, opening your eyes as best you can to see Cillian when you come. The hand that was gripping your jaw slides down your back, creeping over towards the front of your body where Cillian starts to rub quick circles onto your clit. His other hand digging into your hip.

“Come, baby. Please, missed seeing that pretty little face of yours come undone for me.” Cillian encourages with a growl, the mind-melting combination of pleasure had you tipping over the edge merely moments after.

Your orgasm hits you hard, the hardest you’ve come in months. You bite into your bottom lip roughly to try silence yourself. Your knees wobble, nearly giving out beneath you, but Cillian’s strong grasp on your hip keeps you up on your feet. While wincing from sensitivity, you push away the hand that was rubbing your clit, Cillian obliges.

“That’s it,” he groans, his own thrusts becoming sporadic and sloppy, “gonna come inside, baby.”

You nod and whine, the sensitivity and pleasure had your entire body vibrating.

“Please, please come inside. I need it.” You beg almost pathetically, wanting nothing more than to feel Cillian’s warm spend spilling out from inside you. He’s panting, cursing, sweating slightly, desperate to give you as much of his come as he can.

He bites down on your shoulder while keeping his hips flush against yours, his cock almost painfully deep inside you, you feel his cock twitch. His hot seed painting your silk walls, just like he’d been fantasizing about for all this time.

Once it starts to become too much, he slowly pulls himself out, only to lean his body forward while spreading your cheeks apart, attentively watching as some of his come trickles out of your pussy. He brings his middle finger up and gently shoves his come back in, earning a small whimper from you.

He leans back up and smacks your ass, making you gasp and giggle before letting the fabric of your dress fall back down to cover your legs.

Cillian turns you around and kisses you, sweetly and passionately.

“Thank you for the gift, my love.”

“This was just the first part, baby. The real gift comes when we get home.” You tease with a wink. You take the next few moments to clean yourself up and fix your appearance before heading back out to the event.

You spend the rest of that evening with Cillian’s come seeping out of you, a dirty little secret that only the two of you share.

—

this fic doesn’t really do it justice but I loooove in fics involving mirrors where the top or whoever’s in charge forces the other to look at themselves getting ruined :,( eat it up every time

[insomniac4000]

Three Peaks Challenge Part 2

You can read part one here

Two months had passed since the Three Peaks Challenge, but the camaraderie and bonds formed during those gruelling climbs had only grown stronger. Y/n’s ambitious idea to climb Mount Kilimanjaro for her channel had taken root during a post-hike conversation after Snowdon. Chris, despite the daunting prospect of another mountain, had agreed without hesitation. They had spent the last few weeks preparing for the adventure, going on runs together to keep up their general fitness as well as climbing as many hills and mountains as they could. The time they spent together cause a lot of raised eyebrows and wagging tongues.

“You’ve got to stop saying yes to her,” George teased, leaning against the kitchen counter as Chris unpacked his gym bag one evening.

Arthur Hill, sprawled on the sofa with a guitar in hand as he played around with it, chimed in, “He can’t help himself. You’ve seen the way he looks at her.”

Chris rolled his eyes, though a faint blush crept up his neck. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle.

George smirked. “Sure it’s not. That’s why you’re spending every spare second with her, climbing hills and planning treks halfway across the world.”

Chris tried to focus on unscrewing the cap, but Arthur wasn’t done. “We’re just saying, mate. You two have been dancing around this for months now, we can all see it so why don’t you do something about it?”

“Yeah you keep having a go at me for not talking to women but here you are doing the same!” George added.

Chris didn’t respond, but the thought lingered as he left the kitchen.

Chris stretched his legs after another grueling training session with Y/n. The gym’s cold air prickled his skin, still damp from sweat. Y/n stood nearby, her hair tied in a high ponytail and her cheeks flushed from exertion. She scrolled through her phone, likely checking their training schedule.

"You still alive over there, hobbit?" she teased, glancing at him with a cheeky grin.

“Barely,” Chris replied, running a hand through his damp hair. “You’re going to have me climbing Kilimanjaro on my hands and knees at this rate.”

Y/n laughed, a light, musical sound that always seemed to make his chest feel warm. “You’ll thank me when we’re at the summit. Remember, altitude sickness doesn’t care how fit you are.”

Chris groaned, but he couldn’t deny he enjoyed spending time with her. Their training sessions were tough, but they’d become part of his routine—just like Y/n herself.

“Same time tomorrow?” Y/n asked as she grabbed her bag.

Chris nodded, already dreading and looking forward to it.

Back at home, Chris walked into his flat to find George Clarkeey sprawled across the sofa, eating crisps, and ArthurTV perched at the dining table editing a video.

“Another session with Y/n?” George called without looking up. “How’s the future Mrs. Dixon?”

Chris rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint blush creeping up his neck. “We’re training for her video. That’s it.”

Arthur looked up from his laptop, smirking. “Sure, mate. Spending every other day with her, smiling like a lovesick puppy whenever she texts—it’s definitely just about the video.”

“Alright, alright,” Chris muttered, dropping his gym bag by the door. “I’m going to shower.”

“Don’t forget to daydream about her while you’re at it!” George called after him, earning a laugh from Arthur.

Chris shook his head, but their teasing stuck with him. It wasn’t the first time his flatmates had pointed out how much time he spent with Y/n, and it wasn’t lost on him that he rarely argued with them about it.

The weeks leading up to their departure were filled with relentless preparation. Y/n, ever the meticulous planner, had them training on steep inclines, hiking trails, and even a few altitude simulation sessions.

“You’re a machine,” Chris said one afternoon as they reached the top of a particularly challenging hill. He bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

Y/n, barely winded, grinned. “And you’re getting better.”

Chris stood upright, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Remind me why I agreed to this again?”

“Because you secretly love it,” she teased, handing him a water bottle.

Chris laughed, his exhaustion fading under her bright smile. “You might be right.” He gazed into y/n’s eyes.

Landing in Tanzania, the excitement was palpable. Y/n had her camera out from the moment they stepped off the plane, capturing every detail for her channel. Chris, though less focused on filming, couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride watching her work, she put her heart and soul into her videos and it showed, to him she was definitely and underrated content creator.

“You’ve got a way of making everything seem like an adventure,” he told her as they drove to the base of the mountain.

Y/n smiled, adjusting her camera. “And you’ve got a way of making every adventure better.”

The first few days of the trek were challenging but manageable. The group, consisting of Chris, Y/n, their guide, and a small crew for support, moved steadily through the lower slopes, acclimating to the altitude and pushing through the rocky terrain. The mountain wasn’t as steep as ones they had climbed but the altitude an thinner air was something new.  hris and Y/n fell into an easy rhythm howevr their banter and shared determination keeping spirits high.

“You know,” Chris said during a rest stop, “this is officially the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Even crazier than getting water boarded during that Sidemen video?”

“Way crazier,” Chris admitted, laughing at the memory.

As Chris and Y/n ascended Kilimanjaro’s rocky slopes, the crisp mountain air made their breath visible. The path was steep, and though their muscles ached, the shared challenge kept them moving. They paused to catch their breath, perched on a boulder overlooking a sea of clouds below.

Chris sipped from his water bottle and glanced at Y/n, her curls peeking out from under her beanie. “So,” he began, breaking the quiet, “when you’re not dragging me up mountains, what’s next for you?”

Y/n smiled, pulling her knees to her chest. “Big picture or small picture?”

“Big,” Chris replied. “The kind of thing you don’t usually share in your videos.”

Y/n considered this, her hazel eyes distant. “I guess I want… balance,” she said finally. “I love the thrill of challenges, but sometimes I think about settling down. You know, having a home base to come back to after the adventures.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like a house with a white picket fence and a dog kind of settling down?”

Y/n laughed. “Maybe not that cliché. But a place that feels like home. And people who feel like home, too.”

Chris nodded thoughtfully, the words striking a chord. “I get that. I love what I do, but sometimes I wonder if I’m missing something. Like there’s more to life than views and football challenges.”

Y/n tilted her head, studying him. “Do you ever think about the future? Like, where you’ll be in five, ten years?”

Chris shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I try not to plan too much. Life has a way of throwing curveballs.” He hesitated, then added, “But yeah, I think about it. I want to build something meaningful—whether that’s a family, or a project that really makes a difference.”

Y/n’s gaze softened. “I think you’re already doing that, Chris. Your videos bring people joy. And that Three Peaks Challenge—you got so many people talking about mental health. That’s huge.”

Chris’s cheeks flushed, but he smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

They walked in silence for a while, the crunch of their boots on gravel filling the air. The landscape grew sparser as they ascended, the vegetation giving way to jagged rocks and patches of snow.

“What about you?” Chris asked eventually. “You’ve done so much already—South America, these crazy challenges. Is there something you haven’t done yet that you’re itching to try?”

Y/n’s face lit up. “There’s always something. I’d love to do a documentary-style series—telling real stories, maybe in remote places. But also… I think I’d like to work on something closer to home. A series that feels more personal. Like showing people that it’s okay to struggle, to not have it all figured out.”

Chris smiled. “I think you’d be amazing at that. You have this way of making people feel like they’re not alone.”

Y/n’s cheeks pinked, and she looked down at her boots. “Thanks, Chris.”

As they continued climbing, Y/n turned the question back on him. “What about you? Any secret dreams you haven’t told anyone?”

Chris laughed. “I don’t know about secret dreams, but I’ve been thinking a lot about doing more with mental health awareness. It’s something I’ve struggled with, and I feel like I have this platform I could use to help.”

Y/n nodded, her expression serious. “I think that’s incredible. And brave. Talking about mental health isn’t easy, but it’s so important.”

Chris glanced at her, his heart swelling with admiration. “You’ve been pretty open about your struggles, too. It’s inspiring.”

Y/n shrugged modestly. “It’s just part of who I am. And if sharing my story helps someone else, then it’s worth it.”

They reached a flat section of the trail and paused to take in the view. The sun was starting to dip lower, casting a golden glow over the peaks in the distance.

“Do you ever think about how crazy this is?” Chris said, gesturing to the vast expanse around them. “Like, how we’re just tiny specks in this massive world?”

Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling. “All the time. But I think that’s what makes it special. We’re small, but we still get to experience moments like this.”

Chris nodded, his gaze lingering on her. “Yeah. Moments like this.”

Y/n turned to him, her expression curious. “What?”

“Nothing,” Chris said quickly, though his heart raced. “Just… I’m glad we’re doing this together.”

Y/n’s smile softened. “Me too, Chris.”

As they resumed their climb, Chris felt a sense of clarity he hadn’t experienced in a long time. For once, he wasn’t worried about the next step—or the step after that. All that mattered was the present moment, and the person beside him.

The higher they climbed, the tougher it got. The air grew thinner, the temperature dropped, and the physical toll became evident. Even Y/n, ever the optimist, began to feel the strain.

“Okay, this is officially brutal,” she said, leaning against her trekking poles during a particularly difficult section.

Chris, standing beside her, offered a hand. “We’ve got this.”

Y/n took his hand, their fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary before she let go and nodded. “Yeah. We do.”

Reaching the summit was nothing short of euphoric. The sky stretched endlessly above them, the sun rising in hues of gold and orange, casting a surreal glow over the snowy peak, it was unlike either of them had seen before.

Y/n, overwhelmed by the moment, let out a laugh that turned into a sob as she was overcome with emotion. “We did it,” she whispered, smiling at Chris as she stood almost misty eyed.

Chris stood beside her, his chest heaving from the climb, but his focus was solely on her. “You did it,” he corrected. “This was your dream.”

Y/n turned to him, her hazel eyes shimmering with tears. “Not without you.”

The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Chris felt his heart race, the altitude and the emotions swirling together in a dizzying mix.

Before he could overthink it, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss. Y/n froze for a heartbeat, then melted into him, her hands gripping his jacket as the world fell away.

When they pulled back, both breathless, Y/n let out a shaky laugh. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Chris smiled, his forehead resting against hers. “Neither was I.”

They stood there for a moment, the enormity of what had just happened sinking in.

“We should probably join the others,” Y/n said softly, though she made no move to step away.

“Yeah,” Chris agreed, his voice barely above a whisper.

They eventually made their way to the group, the moment left unspoken but etched deeply in their minds.

The climb down was almost harder than the ascent, the fatigue weighing heavily on them. Despite their best efforts to act normal, there was a noticeable shift between Chris and Y/n.

During breaks, their gazes lingered a little too long. Their laughter was softer, more intimate, they held hands even when they didn’t need support.

When Y/n’s Kilimanjaro video went live, it was an instant hit. Her audience was captivated by the breathtaking scenery, the gruelling challenge, and the camaraderie between her and Chris.

But it didn’t take long for the comments to pick up on the subtle dynamics.

“Chris and Y/n are adorable together. Are we going to ignore how he looked at her during that sunrise shot?” “I swear they were holding hands at one point on the descent. Anyone else catch that?” “If these two aren’t dating, I’ll eat my trekking poles.”

George, watching with a smug look on his face texted Chris after reading a particularly bold comment: “When are you announcing your engagement?”

Chris replied with a rolling eyes emoji: “Fuck sake.” Y/N peered over his shoulder as they were both snuggled on her sofa and she let out a soft giggle.

“We’re going to have to tell them sometime you know.”

“I know. But I love just having you all to myself.”

[coaaster]

Cold Sheets;

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!Reader

Rating: E (18+ - minors DNI!)

Word Count: ~1560

Summary: Jason wakes up to an empty bed.

Warnings: Smut (hinted at and described in one scene), possibly OOC Jason, reader described working as a nurse, self-indulgent ngl, slight angst with a happy ending :)

A/N: I’m in love with Jason Todd, it’s actually a problem.

—

Last night was probably one of the best (and hardest) moments of Jason Todd’s life.

You and Jason have been in a long standing, strictly friends-with-benefits relationship. Recently, though, there’s been more emphasis on the friends part, with the two of you occasionally going over to each other’s houses just to hang out and spend the night. After patrol last night, and upon returning to his depressingly empty apartment, Jason called you. And this time, not for a booty call. He knew you would’ve just finished a late night shift as a nurse, so you were no doubt looking to return home and sleep. But after a particularly gruelling patrol, Jason needed to know that you were alive and breathing.

The feeling in his chest when he thought about you while on patrol couldn’t be ignored anymore. Though Jason was the one to set such strict boundaries on your relationship, he couldn’t help but feel you needed to know his feelings had changed. He wanted more with you. But he wouldn’t tell you that tonight. For now, he just needed you in his arms. That thought alone was the only one keeping his guilt at bay for keeping you awake just a little longer. You answered the phone, clearly exhausted, but warm to the idea of going to Jason’s to sleep.

And, for all intents and purposes, Jason would have let you do just that. His cock was half hard already from the adrenaline rush of patrolling, but it shouldn’t have mattered. He could see how exhausted you were as you walked through the door. But as soon as he had you in his arms, his mouth on yours, he couldn’t stop himself. His tongue was in your mouth, and despite the obvious exhaustion on your face, you responded just as enthusiastically, understandably tense from another long shift.

“Need you, baby.” Jason whispers into your mouth, before fucking you every which way he could on any surface, until finally ending up in his bed.

Jason noticed the sex between you two getting noticeably softer over the months, inevitably leading up to this particular night. With your soft voice calling out his name, both your hands intertwined and your pussy seemingly extra snug this night, a confession had basically been pulled out of him. How much he needed and wanted you, how he couldn’t sleep tonight without knowing you were okay. How he wanted more. So much for waiting to tell you. Sweat dripped from Jason’s brow as he fucked into you so deep that you (hopefully) couldn’t think too hard on his words. The occasional comment on how tight and wet and perfect your pussy was for him was sprinkled in here and there, of course. But you, smart as you were, knew that this wasn’t just a sex thing, and you looked deep into his eyes and whimpered that you felt the same. That you needed him, worried about him when he was out on patrol. Your own winded confession had Jason coming on the spot. It was almost embarrassing if you didn’t look so cock-drunk because of it. You both lasted another round, Jason whispering more sweet nothings into your ear and you whimpering out in overstimulation. You both fell asleep wrapped up in each other's arms.

Upon waking up, Jason’s chest warms at how last night turned out. You very easily could have rejected him, could have said that you didn’t want his feelings on top of the amazing sex. But you didn’t. Yet when he turns to look at the other side of the bed, his chest goes cold. It’s empty. The sheets are rumpled, and when he runs a hand over them, they’re cold to the touch. He checks his phone quickly to see if you’ve left a message, or the nightstand for a notepad with your writing on it. Surely you would have left a message if you had gone out. But both are empty.

Jason sighs in resignation and wonders. Maybe he did come on too strong. You probably just wanted to have some nice, stress-relieving sex after a long shift, free of feelings, and then sleep. Or maybe it was just a heat of the moment thing for you, Jason thinks. That thought hurts Jason more than he cares to admit.

Jason grumbles as he gets up, pulling on some briefs lying on his chair of yet-to-be-folded laundry. He lives alone, so the action is unnecessary, but he doesn’t feel particularly up to seeing his naked self in the mirror. Not so soon after last night, anyway.

When Jason goes to walk through his bedroom door, he hears a clattering sound coming from the kitchen. Immediately, Jason thinks there must be an intruder. What else could it possibly be?

Momentarily forgetting that his apartment has one of the best security systems in the city, Jason turns the corner, armed with a candle holder. It’s not a gun, but in the hands of a trained killer, it would do. Chose the wrong house on the wrong fucking day, buddy, Jason thinks.

But upon entering the kitchen, Jason sees… you? You’re humming under your breath, standing over a fresh pot of coffee, dressed in… is that his shirt?! Jason can’t help the little skip in his chest at the sight of you. Well, this is infinitely better than an intruder. He was so sure you’d left, too overwhelmed with the knowledge of his feelings for you. But you’re here. He never should have doubted you.

Jason chuckles, dumping his makeshift weapon on to a side table. You jump at the sound, turning to see a very much awake Jason Todd.

“Oh! Morning, I made us some coff-“ Jason’s arms wrap around your waist, head buried into the crook of your neck. “-ee?” You wrap your arms around Jason’s shoulders, running a hand through his undercut.

“Everything okay?” you whisper lightly, listening to the sounds of Jason’s breathing. He turns his head, burying his nose into your hair instead.

Jason hums an affirmative and pulls back to look you in the eye. “Thought you left without saying goodbye this morning,” he says, half joking as if to not worry you. He lifts a hand from your waist, his fingers running over your cheek and down your jaw in the hopes of distracting you from his concern. It doesn’t work, because you know him so well. You hold his hand against your cheek, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

“Nah, I just needed my morning coffee.” You kiss his hand again, “Probably would’ve woken you up if I was going somewhere, anyway.” Jason hums, satisfied with your answer. You clear your throat.

“So, about last night…” Jason’s face drops. He knew this conversation was coming, but he would’ve appreciated a bit of a roll around in the sheets before it happened.

Jason returns his hands to your waist and looks you in the eye. “If it’s too much for you, we can just ignore it.” Though it hurts Jason to say, he knows it’s true. He could pretend to never have said what he did, and even abandon the whole ‘with-benefits’ part of your friendship. As long as he got to be near you, that was enough.

You raise your eyebrows in response. “Oh.” You look disappointed for a moment. “Well. I was going to say that if you really meant what you said last night, then you should probably take me out on a date, but…”

Jason’s face blanks. “Wait, what?” That was not the direction he thought this conversation was taking. His heart beats faster in anticipation.

You blink up at him. “What do you mean, what? Hang on, were you just saying that to get off or-“

“No, no, of course not, I-“ Jason breaths in slowly and then looks back at you. “Okay, yeah, you’re right.”

You’re bewildered for a moment but Jason quickly explains.

“Let me take you out on a date. A proper one.” He steps in closer, cupping your face. “I did mean everything I said last night. I want more with you. So- fuck, I’ve never done this before.”

You roll your eyes playfully, muttering a clearly under your breath, which Jason pinches you on the cheek for in jest.

Jason’s grinning now, and a smile is spreading on your face, too, “Let me take you to that Italian place you always talk about. Tonight.”

You tap your chin as if in thought, “Hmm, I don’t know, I’m pretty busy tonight…”

“Liar.”

You gasp dramatically at his accusation, but he’s smiling, at least. Considering he knows your schedule back to front, you’re not surprised he would call you out so quickly.

You pull him closer by his thick waist, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. The tops of his cheeks turn a shade of red and you can’t help but think that, despite Jason’s large size, he was still so fucking cute.

“Yes, Jason Todd. Take me out to dinner.”

Jason looks down at your smiling face, wraps his large hands around your waist and sighs. He leans down to kiss you, without the intention of it leading to more. Because he can just do that now.

Scratch what Jason said about last night. This is the best moment of his life.

—