#please spread because I want to make this!

[robinsfilm]

HOW HE LOVES | d. wayne | 0.4k

SYNOPSIS: how does damian wayne show his love for you?

ANON: “hi author!! wanted to just make an ask to see if you would write something with damian? if it's okay with you, may it be sfw and romantic? hc's or not, whatever you prefer!!”

A/N: i did some research about his culture and found some interesting facts about how love and endreament is shown in the arabic languages. if i made any mistakes while turning the gendered phrases gn, please let me know.

✹ ꕀ MLISTS . NAV.

REDAMANCY: The endless labyrinth of your minds has been unlocked and explored by both of you. Words are unnecessary for Damian to understand what you want and need. Your presence has left an indelible mark on his heart. It’s the way the two of you gradually reshape your speech, crafting a language of your own—how a glance across a crowded room signals that you want to leave, and he’s at your side in an instant. Your hand finds his. Together, you’re out the door. He knows your routine by heart. He knows you’ll come home tired, so he’s already queued up your favorite show on the DVR, snacks spread out on the table.

ACTIONS FOR YOU: In the beginning stages of your relationship, Damian doesn’t express his love through words or elaborate phrases woven with sophistication. His love shows in his actions—the subtle ways he tries to brighten your everyday life. It’s the way he washes your hair when you’re too exhausted, how he wakes up early to prepare you something to eat, how he ties your shoelaces when they come undone, how he straightens your outfit with care.

“I’ll do it. Only because you asked me to.”

ONLY YOU: Damian only sees you. The crowd fades to a dull blur, while you stand out like the sun. You’re his choice, the one he wants to share every moment with. Waking up, getting ready, cooking, strolling to the grocery store, wandering through the park at dusk—all of it is with you. He can’t imagine it any other way.

“You—you are the exception, ya hayati.”

THE DETAILS: Nothing escapes his notice. It’s the way he brews two cups of coffee for you both, the way he listens to every word you say as though it’s etched in his mind, even if it’s as simple as how your day went. After particularly hard days, he stays close. He peels a piece of fruit, splitting it in half to share, because everything tastes better when it’s with you. Damian cares for the small things.

“You’re definitely the only person I’d do this for.”

WORDS LIKE AMBROSIA: As your relationship deepens, Damian’s promises become like whispered prayers on an altar—a vow etched into his soul. With his words, he assures you that he’ll be by your side, if you’ll have him. Softly, he tells you, “Bahlam feekum”—I dream of you—each night, a phrase that carries weight in its quiet way. To dream of someone is no small thing; it’s a gesture of devotion.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[axeeglitter]

Sensius: A story of manliness

Ethan’s heart pounded in his chest, the fear coursing through him like ice in his veins. He had been separated from his twin Josh and his friends Nathan and Brad, only moments ago, and he had no idea where he was being led. The room he now stood in was stark, metallic, and unforgiving, a far cry from the comforting familiarity of their shared lives. The heavy door sealed shut behind him with a final, echoing thud, trapping him in this sterile, alien space. Ethan didn’t even want to be here, he only agreed because Josh forced him to come and Nathan and Brad insisted for him to join. He didn’t really enjoy video games, VR, or any surprises.

“Hello? What is this place?” Ethan’s voice cracked with a mixture of fear and frustration. He scanned the room, eyes darting over the sleek, unfamiliar machinery. In the center stood a pod—its dark, glossy surface gleaming under the harsh, clinical lights. It looked like a high-tech coffin, humming with a low, ominous vibration.

Before he could make another move, a voice filled the room. An engineer entered the room, wearing a white blouse and a big smile on his face. “Ethan, right?” he asked with joy in his voice as he approached him. “Great, well I’m Christian, I’ll make sure your test is going as planned. Now if you can climb into the pod on your left, your trial will begin real soon.” Ethan didn’t know if he could trust this men, but not wanting to back off in front of his friends, he started to walk to the pod with a shy path.

Ethan climbed into the pod and tilted his head to look how the machine looked like from the inside. It was slick and futuristic, and under his back was a soft mattress made of light blue silicone.

The interior was disturbingly soft, molding perfectly to the contours of his body and as Ethan relaxed a bit and lay back, the lid descended with a sharp hiss, sealing him in complete darkness. The sound of his own breath filled the small space, fast and shallow as he tried to calm himself.

Then, out of nowhere, restraints clamped down, metal arms snapping into place around his wrists and ankles, pinning him with unyielding force. Ethan gasped in surprise as his stress and anxiety raised back up.

“Let me out!” Ethan screamed, thrashing against the restraints. But the claws only tightened, digging painfully into his skin.

“Restraint sequence activated. Beginning clothing removal.”

A thin red laser beam appeared above him, scanning the length of his body. The beam left a tingling sensation in its wake, and then his clothes began to disintegrate into fine ash, leaving him completely naked and exposed. The cold air hit his bare skin, and he shivered, vulnerable and terrified. “Stop it please! I don’t even want to be here! Help me!” Ethan tied again as he took in the fact that he was now restrained and exposed.

“Clothing removed. Initiating physical modification protocol.”

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, his body tensing with fear. “No, please! I don’t want this! What is happening? Who is even talking?! STOP”

“Beginning foot structure modification.”

A deep, bone-crunching pain lanced through Ethan’s feet. He screamed, his toes curling involuntarily as the bones inside them cracked and shifted. It felt like someone was snapping each bone in half, then forcing it into a new shape. His feet elongated, the arches lifting painfully as the structure of his bones realigned. He could feel the skin tightening over the new form, every nerve alight with agony.

“Foot sized increased. Adding athletic template.”

His soles burned as thin calluses formed, rough patches developing as though he’d spent years running around. It was as if his skin was being sandpapered from the inside out, layers building up to create a tough, hardened surface to preserve his feet.

Ethan’s breath came in ragged gasps, the pain relentless. He tried to kick out, but the restraints held him firm.

“Starting leg restructuring. Thigh and calf enhancement.”

The agony spread up his legs, a deep, tearing sensation as his muscles began to swell. His calves bulged, the sinews stretching and thickening beneath the skin. It felt like his muscles were being inflated, the pressure building until he thought they might burst. His thighs followed, ballooning outward as the tendons and ligaments pulled taut, adjusting to support his new, powerful form.

His pelvis snapped painfully, bones grinding together as his hips narrowed. He let out a strangled cry, the sound muffled by the pod’s interior.

“Pelvic adjustment complete. Now modifying genitalia and pubic region.”

Ethan’s eyes widened in terror. “No, no, no!” he pleaded, but the AI continued without pause.

A deep, throbbing pressure built between his legs, unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if something was pulling at his very core, stretching and reshaping the most intimate parts of his body. His penis contracted and spasmed without him being able to control his muscle. It felt like someone was tugging on his dick and it was about to snap. He felt it lengthened, the skin tightening painfully as it grew thicker and heavier. Every nerve seemed to explode with hypersensitivity, a wave of raw, searing sensation that made him gasp.

His balls felt like they were being tugged downward, the weight increasing as his they swelled, doubling and then tripling in size. The skin grew coarser, darker, as thick, curly hair sprouted across his pubic region. The sensation was unbearable, like a thousand needles pricking his skin at once. He felt them grew more and more but to his shock, he saw them getting short, like if he had shaved a week or so ago. His new pubes were feeling sensitive and were about 1 inch long but very dense, starting to shape waves dancing around his new thick dick.

Ethan could feel the rough hair brushing against his thighs, the unfamiliar weight of his transformed anatomy pressing against his skin. His entire groin ached, a deep, pulsing throb that radiated through his pelvis.

“Please… make it stop,” he whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks. But the AI continued its cold, mechanical announcements.

“Genitalia modification process completed. Moving up to abdominal and chest expansion in 3,2,1…”

The muscles in his stomach clenched, then seemed to explode outward, stretching the skin painfully tight. He felt his abs forming, each individual muscle carving itself out into a sharp, defined shape. His chest followed, his pecs swelling outward, becoming thick and heavy. It felt like his ribs were being pried apart, the bones bending to accommodate his new size.

He tried to scream, but his voice was caught in his throat, the pain overwhelming every other sensation.

“Shoulder width increasing. Arm muscle enhancement in progress…” His shoulders cracked loudly, broadening as the bones shifted. The muscles in his arms ballooned, biceps and triceps thickening until they felt like they might burst through his skin. His forearms followed, the sinewy muscles bulging as veins snaked across the surface. His fingers elongated, the knuckles thickening, nails reshaping into black claws before retracting into a neat, masculine trim. His hands felt foreign, strong, capable, and unfamiliar.

“Neck and facial structure realignment. Initiation Voice modulation in 3,2,1…”

Ethan’s neck thickened, the muscles bulging against the restraints. His throat vibrated as his vocal cords stretched, his Adam’s apple becoming more pronounced. He could feel his face being pulled apart and reshaped, every bone shifting painfully beneath the skin. His jawline squared off and off settled a bit, his cheekbones sharpening, and his nose adjusted, becoming broader and more defined. Ethan’s eyes started to go bling as a new invasive sensation started in his iris. It felt like his eyes were burning from the inside and he couldn’t see anything anymore. But the second after, when he finally opened his eyes again, vision came back. It was perfect now, like a high-definition camera. Ethan saw a golden hue in his vision before he turned back to a normal natural one. Unbeknown to him, his eyes just went from golden orange back to a rich chocolaty brown.

His lips tingled as they grew fuller, curving into a confident and natural friendly smirk he wasn’t used to. He could feel his hair thickening, dark strands cascading down to form a tousled, messy styled look.

When he tried to speak, a deep, rich voice came out, one that wasn’t his own.

“Body hair enhancement and musk modification.”

A prickle spread across his chest and stomach as thin transparent hair sprouted, covering his new, muscular frame. The scent of his own body changed, becoming earthy and masculine, a raw, potent musk that filled the pod, overwhelming his senses. His pubes vibrated as they started to emit the same potent musk merged with a ball sweat odor. Then when he thought everything was done, his pits started to burn as thick dark and curly hair started to grow under them, far away from his natural almost hairless pits he used to have. “Please, make it stop… I can’t hold on anymore. I want… to go … home.” Ethan said in his new manly and rich voice as tears of pain and fear started to pearl in his new rich brown eyes. The AI didn’t care what he was saying and begging for as a new burning started on his legs where they started to grow dark hair all around and them climbing between his new muscled ass cheeks to recover in a dense forest of thick hair.

He could feel sweat dripping down his ribs from his pits, his heart racing as the final adjustments were made.

“Final height increase. Completing modification and assignation.”

His spine stretched, each vertebra popping as he grew taller. His entire body felt like it was being pulled apart, every joint cracking into place as the last pieces of his transformation locked in.

Ethan lay there, panting, tears streaming down his face. His naked body was no longer his own, it was something new, something powerful and alien.

“Conversion complete. You are ready for the next step. Digitization will start in 3,2,1…”

Ethan tried to scream in his new louder and manlier voice but no one answered. He was trapped inside this monstrous new body, feeling every sensation, every shift of muscle and bone. He had become something unrecognizable, and the pain had only solidified the terror that now consumed him.

All Ethan could do was lay in the pod, his body transformed beyond recognition, his mind reeling from the agony he had just endured. He could barely breathe, his chest heaving as he tried to process the changes, the unfamiliar weight of new muscles, the roughness of his new skin, the potent musk that filled the air, unmistakably masculine and raw.

“Phase two initiated: Digitization process commencing. Please stay still.”

Ethan’s eyes snapped open; pupils dilated with fear. “What now? What are you doing to me?”

But the AI ignored his panicked questions. He felt a strange tingling sensation spread across his skin, starting at his toes and quickly moving upward. It was as if every cell in his body was being scanned, analyzed, and recorded in microscopic detail.

The pod began to hum, vibrations growing stronger beneath him, resonating through every bone and nerve. He could feel his entire body buzzing, the sensation almost unbearable.

“Subject’s physical data captures. Initiating digitization.”

A bright flash of light engulfed him, blinding him for a moment. He screamed as his body seemed to dissolve into pure energy, every atom pulled apart and then compressed into a tight, confined space. His consciousness was squeezed into a single point, a spark of awareness floating in a void of nothingness.

He felt himself being transferred, data streaming through what felt like endless tunnels of code and light. The sensation was nauseating, like being stretched and twisted beyond his limits. He could feel the AI rewriting him, his essence being stripped away and stored in a vast, cold digital space.

“Digitization complete. Subject now online.”

Suddenly, he was slammed back into reality, his new body reconstituted piece by piece. Ethan gasped, blinking rapidly as his vision adjusted to his surroundings. He no longer was in the pod, he was standing in a dimly lit, cluttered bedroom. The walls were covered in posters, the floor scattered with clothes, sneakers, and Lacrosse gear.

Ethan stood up in a hurry from the bed as he turned his head around, trying to understand where he was now. Panic raised inside him as his sight landed on a wet dirty mirror standing on the wall in the bathroom. Ethan approached it, his body drenched in sweat as his new hands raised to touch his new hair. Ethan gasped when he saw his new reflection. That couldn’t be possible he was...

“Uploading Subject: Ethan Brown… Assigned File: Scott McCall” the AI voice resonated inside the room. Ethan turned around and walked out of the bathroom and took a look once again at the bedroom around him, the jerseys, the posters, the pictures and posters on the wall, the lacrosse equipment all around, the messy bedroom, the bathroom on the left side of the bed. This couldn’t be possible. Ethan couldn’t believe it, it was a nightmare. And why was he stuck inside this new body as Scott, he wasn’t even a big fan of Teen Wolf. What was all of that?!

He could feel the soft carpet beneath his bare feet, the air cool against his exposed skin. He looked down, and a shock of confusion washed over him. He was only wearing a pair of tight, gray boxer briefs that clung to his body, highlighting every curve and bulge of his transformed physique. His thick, muscular thighs were covered in dark hair, his abs hard and defined, with a thin trail of hair leading down to his groin where the prominent bulge strained against the fabric.

“Calculating the need of this game… Done. This game miss Alpha. Initiating behavioral enhancement protocol. Upgrading “Scott McCall” to “ALPHA” in 3,2,1…”

Ethan felt his body freeze on the spot. He tried to move, to take control of his own body, but he couldn’t. He felt like a passenger, trapped inside his own mind. His body moved on its own, a confident grin spreading across his lips as he flexed his biceps, feeling the thick, solid muscle.

“No… no, this isn’t me,” Ethan thought, but no voice came out of his mouth,

“Upgrading dominance traits. Increasing testosterone levels.”

A wave of heat surged through him, starting deep in his core and spreading outward. He could feel his muscles swelling slightly, his skin tightening over the expanded mass. The scent of his own sweat filled the room, mingling with the strong, musky odor that seemed to ooze from his pores, it was becoming more and more potent, filled with testosterone. His pecs and abs spasmed as his thin hair started to get a darker hue, getting more and more visible and emitting an earthy scent too.

His groin felt hot and heavy, his bulge growing larger, pressing insistently against the fabric of his boxer briefs. He couldn’t stop it, his cock twitched, hardening involuntarily, the outline of his erection visible through the thin material. A small wet spot formed at the tip, where pre-cum leaked through the fabric.

Ethan’s mind raced. He wanted to cover himself, to find clothes, but his body refused to obey. Instead, he stretched his arms over his head, his biceps bulging, and let out a low, satisfied groan. His eyes flashed the golden hue before starting to change into a deep crimson red. His nails flashed and turned into sharp, dark claws before retracting back into his normal nails. Ethan felt his palms and soles starting to burn as callouses started to appear in them, making sure his feet are safe when he runs bare feet in the forest and every time, he grabs his lacrosse stick to play on the field. His left biceps started to burn as two black thick lines appeared on it to mark him as the new enhanced version.

“Enhancement complete. Initiating behavioral sequence.”

Ethan felt his head tilt slightly, a cocky smirk forming on his lips. A wave of unfamiliar pride washed over him. He looked powerful, every inch of him screamed dominance, from the confident set of his jaw to the way his broad shoulders filled the space. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, admiring the way it fell perfectly into place.

Ethan’s mind screamed in protest. This wasn’t him. He was trapped inside this body, watching helplessly as it moved on its own, flexing and posing like it was enjoying its own reflection.

“Dominant behavior activated. Loading clothes and restrictions.”

Ethan’s eyes widened in horror. His body turned toward the pile of clothes on the floor, a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a hoodie. He reached down, fingers brushing the fabric, but then he stopped. Ethan felt his hands grab his soaked underwear between his hands before tearing it apart, leaving him naked in his room. Then he grabbed a pair of dirty jeans on the floor and smiled as he raised his torn apart soaked underwear to his nose and smelt it. Ethan felt his face light with a smile as pheromones invaded his brain, the scent of an alpha he thought. He then threw the underwear in the corner of his room and jumped in the pair of jeans commando, making sure to adjust his sensitive leaking cock in the right leg. His bulge throbbed against his hairy leg, a bead of pre-cum leaking through the fabric and staining it darker. He couldn’t stop it; the pleasure radiated through his groin, making his breath hitch.

“Stop… please, this is not … me,” Ethan begged, but his voice was not to be heard. He couldn’t control the grin that spread across his lips, the way his hand ran down his chest, fingers brushing over his hardened nipples, then lower, tracing the line of hair that led to his waistband.

He flexed again, the thick muscles of his torso shifting under the skin. He looked like a god, unapologetically masculine, raw, and primal. Ethan wanted to cry but he couldn’t, he was frozen and forced to look at himself as he felt his new leaking dick coming closer and closer to orgasm.

“Welcome to the Sensius: Teen Wolf Gay Fantasy experience,” the AI announced, its tone disturbingly cheerful. “You are now an integral part of the interactive environment. Follow your programming and enjoy this experience.".”

Ethan felt his body tense as the orgasm was coming closer and closer, his dick spasming and restrained inside his pants, rubbing his sensitive leaking cock head against his hairy leg. The AI talked once again, this time echoing through the whole game like if it was a scream in an empty cave. “Player loaded. Rebooting behaviors in 3,2,1…” His head snapped up, eyes gleaming with a new, fierce confidence. He felt his heart rate slow, the fear draining away, replaced by a wave of calm, dominant energy. He didn’t feel like hiding anymore. He felt powerful, unstoppable. He came. Ethan felt the cum rushing out of his cock and soaking his jeans into wetness. “Scott McCall’s routines starting.” He heard his new voice talking inside his head and he realized he was trapped as Scott from now on until he found a way to free himself.

Ethan was trapped, screaming inside his own mind, but Scott’s body wasn’t listening. It adjusted itself, standing tall and relaxed, hands resting on the thick bulge in his jeans. He gave it a squeeze, the sensation shooting through him like a jolt of electricity. He then grabbed his lacrosse stick and helmet and threw them on his bed before sitting on it. He looked at them with awe in his eyes as he felt the pulsion to play and to fuck in the locker room. Yea, his beta bitch will take it tonight, that’s for sure!

He turned toward the door, taking a deep breath, savoring the scent of his own musk filling the room. He knew he had to leave, there was somewhere he needed to be. He could feel the pull of the programming, guiding his steps.

He grabbed a pair of boots and a tight well used black tanktop then walked confidently out of the bedroom and into the hallway. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. He was ready for whatever came next, his mind sharp, his body humming with newfound strength.

And inside, Ethan’s thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear and confusion, unable to break through the iron grip of Scott’s assertive, dominant programming. He was trapped in a body that wasn’t his, forced to feel every touch, every pulse of pleasure, as the new Scott took his first steps into the world.

And he wasn’t going to wear a single piece of clothing to hide what he had become.

______________________________________________________________ Hey everybody! Here is the second chapter about the Sensius project. Hope you guys enjoy it and I'll see you guys real soon for the next chapter! As always, feel free to send me messages if you want to talk about it or to talk about ideas. I love to read your messages and itneract with you all. See you soon and take care of yourself! Part 1

[xoxochb]

request + a/n at the bottom

cw: (overly?) rough sex, brief swearing, overstimulation, piv, and erm I think that’s it? mdni (or do, that’s none of my business)

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

he’s trying to kill you, that’s what. there had been a celebratory event for percy jackson— what he did this time was beyond your knowing. one day he kills the minotaur the next he’s universally known and wanted by the fbi, in a similar way he’s praised at camp for every tiny thing he does. new quest, celebration, came back alive from a quest, celebration, presumed dead but came back alive, celebration, just existed, a damn celebration! the kid’s not even eighteen and he’s the talk of camp! it’s ludicrous, yes, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, what other people cared about was out of your capacity of understanding, he’s just a kid.

to your boyfriend, though, percy wasn’t ‘just a kid’ he was the bane of his existence. when you think about it— why was it fair that percy got claimed to quickly and is actually acknowledged by his godly parent while luke can’t do the same? that’s unfair. today, during another celebration for the great perseus jackson, you witnessed luke’s anger first hand, through fireworks and a party bonfire, you were pulled away by him in the middle of your s’more making— which he claimed was “helping add onto the hype for that dumb kid.”

with a pout spread over your lips, you’re dragged to an empty cabin eleven, his bed more specifically. you had no control coming after this, none when your clothes were pulled off, and none when he, without warning, shoved his cock inside of you (quite violently may you add, may the gods save you from the pain you’re going to feel in the morning). nonetheless, you’re not going to interfere with his mood, you’ll let him fuck you senseless until you fall into a coma. and that’s what you’re sure he’s trying to do!

because between his thumb maniacally rubbing over your clit and with each vicious thrust you feel yourself growing progressively more lightheaded, your hands tightly fisting the sheets and a plethora of tears streaming down your perfectly pink cheeks. you hear luke murmur incoherent babbles, something you assume is all hatred towards the son of poseidon, because you take notice that he gets rougher each time.

“luke, I- please… mhm I- can’t-” what the fuck are you saying? you sound like a clueless child attempting to say their first words. your chest heaves with great force, seemingly to the same pattern of the cacophonous fireworks outside that don’t seem to ever stop— gods, why fireworks of everything? you’re getting a fucking migraine at this point, and with every deafening moan escaping your maroon lips your head seems to pound harder. this is how you’re going to die for sure.

practically sobbing, you grab at luke’s dark curls in an attempt to pull him out from you, or just to do anything that involves stopping your current state of overstimulation. it’s too much, fine at first, but now it’s too much. panting, you repeat his name, pleading, praying. he doesn’t seem to listen at all, continuing to thrust inside you to impel your moans to jump to the highest octave possible, and you’re half sure that by now they’re louder than the bursting fireworks outside.

“you gonna come for me, angel? not done until you come for me…”

you could scream. shit— you’re practically already moaning at the same decibel level of a blood curling scream (you’re so not going to be able to talk tomorrow). “fuck, please- ah- luke, I-”

nonetheless, you feel your velvety walls tightening as your orgasm washes over you, your thick wetness coating his throbbing cock. he prolongs this for a full minute you were sure would’ve killed you, until he pulled out of you, he’s met suddenly with your deathly glare.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?”

༯ “So you had this post where u said 'louder than the fireworks' (which later said '(he's fictional)' lol) and i got an idea.. Luke castellan just fucking the shit out of you while everyone is celebrating percy bc he's mad or sum shit idek all i know is that its rough and he's trying to get louder than the fireworks 🤭” hi nonnie, my love, for some reason I was unable to respond to your request?? it only had “delete” and “post” but I love love loved this request so I just copied it on here :)

[louisferrignojr]

picturing tommy tying buck’s hands around the slats on his headboard, fully naked and spread out on the bed while tommy’s still dressed in his sweats and his tank top that shows off his arms.

tommy taking his time with buck, sucking him off gently, lazily, savouring the taste and weight of him in his mouth; when he said he wanted buck for desert, this is what he meant. he’s not teasing, he’s simply going at it at his own pace. he’s taking what he wants, and buck knows it, he's trying to be patient but he keeps squirming underneath him and tommy has to grab his hips and pin him on the mattress until buck stops moving, and tommy smirks and throws in a “good boy” just to hear him whine oh so desperately.

tommy getting up to slowly strip out of his clothes, lowkey wishes he had more layers on to drag it out a little, because the way buck is staring at him is driving him crazy, like he wants to devour tommy whole. he kneels on the bed and does a 180° before he reaches between his legs and pushes lube-slicked fingers in his hole, two at a time, biting down on his bottom lip so he can keep quiet so he can hear buck’s drawn out moan, his breathless, “oh, fuck, tommy,” echoing within the walls of his bedroom. he gets some sick pleasure from making his boyfriend watch as he fucks himself open on his fingers, knowing how much he's pulling against the restraints, wishing it was his fingers in tommy’s ass, his spit mixing in with the lube to get him good and wet.

but then tommy turns around and straddles buck, wants to see the look on buck’s face as he wraps his hand around his achingly hard cock and slowly sinks in on it, wants to watch the way his beautiful chest is heaving because he can't catch his breath as tommy starts moving, setting a maddeningly slow rhythm, enjoying the ride. and buck starts babbling as he always does, the only outlet he has that can temper his desire to lift his hips and fuck back into tommy, “oh god, oh fuck, baby, it's so good, you feel so good, i fucking love it, tommy, i love you, i love you so much,” and tommy would be lying if he said he was unaffected. there's always so much love pouring out of evan buckley, and being on the receiving end of it feels like a drug, an addiction, he's so fucking needy for it, he's gone without his whole life and he's drowning in it.

until buck sucks in a sharp breath and says, “wait, tommy, get the ring, please, i’m gonna-” and tommy growls and picks up the pace, “come on, come in me,” and watches buck’s face for the tell-tale signs, clenches around him when buck’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he pulls against the restraints, arching his back towards tommy as he explodes inside him, making a noise like a wounded animal when he comes.

tommy doesn’t stop, either, keeps fucking himself on buck’s dick, still hard inside him, and god, tommy loves it like this, messy and wet, taking everything buck will give him and still wanting more, more, more. he gets a hand around himself and starts jerking his leaking cock, feels the way his orgasm starts building in the pit of his stomach, and in the end it's the way buck closes his eyes and opens his mouth, hungry for it, that sends him over the edge, shooting off so violently that buck gets a taste of it, grinning as he licks it off his pouty lips; the image alone is enough to get tommy horny again, but he collapses breathlessly against his boyfriend, burying his face in buck’s chest, so utterly spent that all he can think about is passing out right there and then.

“i love you,” buck whispers in his ear, brushes his lips against the sweaty mess of curls at tommy’s temple.

“i love you, too,”

buck hums, considering. “enough to set me free?”

“smartass,” tommy laughs and gathers himself, sits back and unties him so that buck can wrap his arms around tommy’s shoulders and pull him down to hold him so tight. they’ll get out of bed and clean up in a minute or two, but for now, this is all they want to do, stay wrapped up in each other, warm and content and so in love.

[kawaiibarty]

unedited jegulus oneshot at exactly 1,4k words based on this insta post (please check out the artist they're so cool) the ending is so rushed because i cba 😭😭😭😭😭

Saying that Regulus wasn't used to this would be one of the greatest understatements he'd ever make, and given his past, well that says a lot.

It happened when he and James were in the library, and where Regulus was meant to be studying, he'd found himself staring at the other boy intently. He couldn't help it, anyway. The boy that was usually loud, chatting non-stop to ensure that Regulus was painfully aware of his presence now sat with his nose buried deep in a book he'd chosen from the shelf at random. Except he hadn't turned the page in about seven full minutes and Regulus was beginning to feel weirdly irritated by the fact that James hadn't said anything since he'd asked to join him (which would be a groundbreaking first).

“Good book?” He finally asked, and James jerked, clutching the book towards him as if it would run away. Regulus frowned at the startled ‘deer-in-headlights’ look on the other boy's face.

“Uh, yeah?” James said, cheeks turning pink, and he must have noticed the vaguely irritated way Regulus watched him because he stared back at the open book. He gestured to it rather weakly and said, “Very interesting. Yes.”

“So tell me what it's about.”

James balked, looking rather stupid with his mouth hanging open. Regulus sighed, running a hand through his hair, cursing himself mentally as he asked “Potter, are you okay? And don't give me that look, I'm just as surprised as you are that I care.”

James' blush spread to his ears and he shook his head, then nodded and when Regulus sighed again he shrugged, defeated.

“If I wasn't, there's not much you could do to help anyway.” James said, looking back at the book, trying his best to feign nonchalance but Regulus wasn't stupid. He reached forward, pulling the book away from James.

“Hey, that's not fair.” James grumbled indignantly but made no move to take it back.

“Come on, Potter. You force shit out of me the same way, have a taste of your own medicine.”

James worried his lip, looking down at the table, “I told you. You can't do anything about it. It's stupid.”

Regulus groaned, sitting all the way back in his chair.

“Potter, between you and I, I sort of actually care about you, okay? Seriously, if you have something that's bothering you,” he caught James’ eyes, finishing weakly under the curious scrutiny, “you can tell me...”

Silence dragged and Regulus wondered if he'd pushed too hard. The golden boy of Gryffindor tower looked as though he hadn't slept for days and Regulus told himself that he was right to ask, after all James’ eyes were far too tired for someone who is usually smiling at everything.

Regulus opened his mouth, then closed it. An overwhelming urge to bundle the other boy up in a giant blanket and stroke his hair until he fell asleep washed over him. He cringed, attempting to shake the thought out of his head and promptly failed when he turned his eyes back to James. The Gryffindor looked pathetic and he wanted to kiss him square on the forehead. He couldn't stop himself, Regulus let his mouth betray him. Just this once.

“I could hug you, if that's what you want.” As James laughed, Regulus thought that the betrayal was worth it. It was small but it was something.

“Did you mean to say that out loud, Reggie?” a tinge of humour, almost entirely sincere.

“Hm, maybe. What gave it away?”

James perked up slightly, head tilted to the side in that curious way of his, “I'm pretty sure that when you don't like a thought you've made you screw your face up and all. You do it a lot anyway.”

Regulus scoffed, a little embarrassed “No, that's ridiculous. What's wrong with you? You've never turned down a hug before, anyway”

“Real smooth subject change, and I never did turn it down. I just—” James smiled a little bashfully this time, fingers picking at the edge of the table, “— uhm, it's really nothing. I, uhm…”

Regulus mused that he must have sighed a million times by then. He rolled his eyes, palms smacking against the table.

“You're frustrating me.”

James mimicked him, “You're frustrating me.” He punctuated it with an exaggerated pout, slamming his hands on the table and flinching at the noise. Stupid Potter.

“Okay, so you want to be hugged?” Regulus would be lying if he said he'd feel disappointed if the hug was properly rejected, but he kept his face as neutral as possible.

James hid himself behind his hands, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, “Yeaaah, I guess.”

“Ugh, what do you mean, ‘I guess’? It's either yes or no.”

“I'm like,” James reached out to thin air, waving his hands in little circles and Regulus would've found it endearing if he wasn't itching with mild irritation, “I don't know? Like, uhm…”

“Merlin's fucking beard, Potter. Spit. It. Out.”

“You're so tiny!” James screwed his face up, shaking his head.

“What? I am not.” Regulus didn't bother with being embarrassed by how defiant he sounded because James Bloody Potter calling him tiny was not something he wanted to hear after being picked on by Barty and Sirius for his height every time he breathed.

“I mean, like—” he gestured to Regulus, then to himself and when it seemed words failed him he groaned, hands coming back to his eyes.

“I hug you right?”

Regulus squinted at him, “Uh huh…” every word that James sputtered out concerned him more but he let the other boy speak. He wanted to hear everything.

“And then, uhm, yeah it's like,” James gestured stupidly again, “I hug you, and you can, you know? Lay your head on my chest.”

Understanding dawned on Regulus, he smiled, then caught himself and schooled his expression as best as he could. Pointless, considering James had already noticed and the Gryffindor’s face was redder than Regulus had had the privilege of seeing. He looked dumb. In a cute way.

“You're scrunching your face up again.” James mumbled.

“So you want to feel smaller than me when you're being hugged?”

There was a moment of Regulus waiting expectantly for a vacant James to answer and when he didn't, Regulus nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up as he stood, pulling a stool away from the bookshelf behind them.

“I'll take that as a yes, then.”

Regulus stood on the stool, arms held open.

“What are you—”

“I'm not waiting all day, Potter.”

“I didn't take you for a jokester.” James said, something vulnerable in his voice caused Regulus' heart to stutter in his chest.

“I'm not. Now come on, before someone sees me standing here like an imbecile.”

Slowly, James stood too. He looked everywhere but at Regulus, inching forward like a little kid afraid of tripping over something.

“James. It's fine.” Regulus’ attempt at sounding genuine must have worked because as soon as he'd said that, James' forehead was touching his chest. Regulus cautiously wrapped his arms around the boy, feeling arms snake around him at the same time.

James sighed, breath hitching a little. They stood like that for a bit, Regulus praying to whatever muggle god was out there to mute his racing heartbeat.

“So…are you okay, Potter?” he asked as a distraction.

Fists clenched into Regulus' shirt, another little sigh. A little bit like a hiccup. Regulus’ heart did that jumpy thing again.

“Potter, I asked—”

“Say it again.” muffled and softer than Regulus had heard James speak in his entire schooling career at Hogwarts. A lot of firsts for one day, it started to make Regulus dizzy.

“Are you okay, Potter?”

James shook his head defiantly, probably messing up Regulus’ shirt and tie in the process, “Nah uh.”

Regulus fought a tired groan from escaping, gritting his teeth he managed; “Use your words, you baby.”

“My name.”

"I did—" Oh.

Oh. Regulus was properly blushing now.

“Oh, uh. James, are you okay?” he whispered, knees weak with embarrassment.

James' grip relaxed and he pulled himself away gently, looking up at Regulus. A dopey smile plastered on his face, eyes a little watery.

“Yeah, I think I'm good.”

“Okay.”

Regulus really, honest to Merlin could not stop himself this time as he leant forward, kissing James on the forehead.

He was stupid. In a cute way. So it's fine.

[halfwayhearted]

Heyyy, I love your work so much. Please could you do a Hector Fort x reader, where she meets his friends for the first time and she’s super nervous because she knows how close they are and stuff. Thank you xx

Es Por Ti — Héctor Fort.

Pairing: Héctor Fort x Fem!Reader

Summary: Meeting his friends was a reminder you knew you’d have to face soon. Maybe it wouldn’t end up being so bad.

Word Count: 605+

Disclaimer/s — Nothing! I don’t think!

A/N: I didn’t know who to choose for his friends so… hi… haha. Also, can we get a ‘nervous’ word count because girl fuck 🤦‍♀️

“Héctor—what if I said I don’t think I can do this?”

The boy whips around to look at you, his gaze on you softening when he takes in your demeanor. Your hands are fiddling with each other and your bottom lip is in between your teeth as you stare up at him. Your nervousness is quite palpable!

He gently takes your hands in his. “Hey, I wouldn’t be upset or anything. You don’t even have to meet them now. We can always reschedule. Just say the word and I’ll text them, I promise. But just know I’ll be right beside you the entire time.”

That was enough for you to relax. It was true. He wouldn’t leave your side, why would he? Why would you even think for a second he’d leave you?

“I can do it,” you replied, unsure if it was clear you were trying to convince him more than yourself.

Héctor nods, his lips spreading into a loving smile until his eyes flicker behind you. “Good, that’s good. Because they’re actually walking up to us.”

Your eyes widen and you’re suddenly taking subtle steps behind your boyfriend, whose stupid smile has turned into a full-blown smirk. “What! I couldn’t even—I didn’t—oh, my God. You’re sick.”

“Who’s sick?” A boy questions, making you stiffen and meet his—or rather, their—gaze. You had made Héctor show you their faces and tell you their names so you wouldn’t have to deal with the awkward introductions. Yet, you knew it would be inevitable. “One of you guys aren’t feeling well?”

This one just so happened to be the Pau Cubarsí, along with Lamine Yamal, Pablo Gavi, and Alejandro Balde. His smile widened when you looked at him. “No, we’re fine. It—” you clamped your mouth shut and instead introduced yourself, saying your name. They gratefully did the same.

“It’s nice to meet you. He talks about you a lot.”

That catches your attention and you’re instantly tilting your head. “Yeah? All good things, I hope?”

Pau nods, confirming your inquiry. “Very good things. He can’t shut up about you. Every second, something happens that has anything to do with you or the things you do, and he goes into a rant.”

Now it’s as if a switch has been flipped inside you.

You weren’t even nervous anymore. It was like the emotions you were feeling before had transferred to Héctor, with the way his face reddened and jaw clenched. “Oh! Well, would you want to sit? You guys can tell me all about it. And I mean all of it.”

Balde laughs, clasping a hand on the Fort boy’s shoulder and resting his forehead against it for a split moment. “What did we say? Warned you.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, following you as you guided them to an empty booth and sat down.

How could you have been nervous not even five minutes ago and now be all smiles? All because he talked about you… all the time. So what if he talked about you? You were worth talking about.

“You coming?” Lamine calls out, his gaze trained on Héctor who purses his lips. “We’re about to tell her what happened during warm-ups last week.”

Oh, boy. Holding in a sigh, he took a seat beside you, resting an arm over your chair while they went on and on about embarrassing moments of the boy. All you did was sneak glances at him and smile when you saw how unamused he looked.

The reasons as to why you were nervous in the first place didn’t really seem like reasons now.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @sakashq ! ౨ৎ (THANK YOU! thank you for requesting!)

[azaharinflames]

helloooo there

so. today i’m coming at y’all with a bit of an ask:

Please do not make assumptions.

It’s fun to speculate, to have our theories, I get that. I love to join in on the fun.

But I find it a bit harmful to just spread ‘Oh, this is happening because Oliver told Tim he doesn’t want to do it’

We don’t know that. We don’t know Oliver, we don’t know Tim, we don’t know anything that actually happened.

Yeah Oliver was wrong in his interview post 806. I’m not denying that, and the people who were upset (me included) were right to feel that way. But he didn’t say he’d been texting Tim for months to get the relationship to end. He did say he’d be texting Tim, but we don’t know for how long. We know they’d filmed the scene mid september and this interview was done a couple of weeks ago. So why are we assuming he was texting Tim since what, June?

We don’t know. And I think it’s falling into dangerous (and potentially buddie-like) rhetoric. If we see BT growing back together, great. If we don’t, we will always have fanon and this space, but I think it’d be still unfair to just blame someone, when we don’t know.

I don’t mean to sound mean, and if you’re frustrated with Oliver’s words you can express them. But let’s just not assume the worst in people.

[revelboo]

Your writing is phenomenal! The way you portray each character and expand on their personalities within the Transformers universe has me hooked from the first word. I am so glad you made a blog and thank you so much for sharing your works with us!!! I’m ashamed to admit how often I come back to check and see if anything new has been posted; and I just found your blog maybe two days ago. Thank you again for writing for us all!!!!!!

Thank you for reading my silliness!

Last Night Pt 5

Bumblebee x Reader

• Little steps forward, day by day. Figuring out that questions about your day are safe. About you, less so. Wanting to ask about everything, but trying so hard to not remind you that you’re here against your will, because it upsets you. And that upsets him. But you don’t flinch away if he brushes a servo against your shoulder or lightly touches the back of your hand to get your attention anymore. Little steps. “There are other humans here, right?” You ask him and he hesitates in scrolling through topographical maps. It’s not exactly a secret, though, so he nods. “Are we allowed to see each other?” When he doesn’t immediately answer, you hesitantly walk closer across the top of his desk and lay your little hands on his arm. Willingly reaching out to him for the first time as you look up at him with wide eyes. “Please?”

• Hands resting on his arm, it’s a surprise how warm he is under your palms. And he’s just staring at your hands on him, lips parted like you’ve shocked him. “I can ask,” he finally says, optics shifting to your face. Because even talking to strangers would be better than sitting here alone when he’s doing whatever secret alien things he does during the day. He’d volunteered that he was a scout, so you assume he explores. Maybe makes maps? You honestly have no idea. “Do you know what this is?” He asks and you lean against his arm to see the data pad screen.

• Freezing as you almost drape yourself across his arm, he’s afraid to move in case you realize what you’re doing and stop. It’s the most contact you’ve allowed so far and he can feel you breathing against him, the beat of your heart and your warmth. “Is that the old mine?” You ask, leveraging yourself even further on him to reach for the screen. Mimicking the gesture he uses to enlarge the image and he’s surprised you’ve been paying that much attention to him while he works. “It is. There was some sort of disaster years ago. I think they tapped into natural gas or something and blew themselves up.” Your little head turns to look up at him questioning, before you inhale, face reddening and slide off of him as if you’d just noticed what you were doing. How you were sprawled on him.

• “Energon,” he mutters as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, face hot because you were draped across his arm, butt in the air to reach the data pad screen. It’s not like he cares or is the least bit interested, but still. “We’ve been picking up traces, but haven’t been able to pin it down. But raw energon is highly reactive,” he pushes up from his desk, smacking the data pad against his palm as he paces. Energon is that glowing goop he drinks, but why would it be on Earth? You’ve never even heard of it before him. There’s no time to try to scurry away as he turns and picks you up in his hand and lifts you, doing a nauseating little twirl and laughing like an excited kid. Dizzy, you fall on your butt when he sets you back on your feet, but he’s already headed for the door, calling out over his shoulder that’ll he be back as you try to figure out what that was and why his excitement spreads warm through you, a smile pulling at your lips.

Previous

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 8 - Caught in The Kitchen, Hidden in The Bathroom | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

You and Trent were cuddled up on the couch, a blanket draped over both of you as the late afternoon sun streamed through the living room windows. The air was warm, filled with the soft murmurs of a documentary neither of you were paying much attention to. Instead, the two of you were locked in a lazy conversation, your head resting against his chest while his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. You leaned into Trent’s chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him and enjoying the comfort of his steady heartbeat. Trent chuckled, recalling a memory that had resurfaced the other week. Recently you and him went to the park you’d gone to a lot growing up. A park where Jack and all his friends would play footie in and you’d tag along for a glimpse of your teenage crush. But this other week in that very park, your crush, Trent, had given you a daisy and confessed something that had long lingered on your mind. Did he even notice you back then? He was about to tell you.

“Baby, you know how we went to the park the other day?” He asked and you hummed confirming. You tilted your head up to look at him, your curiosity winning over the quiet comfort of the moment. “It’s just I was thinking – it’s funny because…” he began to speak, stumbling through words, his voice soft and nostalgic, “I honestly had the biggest crush on you, even then, when we were younger. I wish I was braver to have done something but instead… you know, I just used to try so hard during those pickup games with Jack and all the lads if I knew you were there watching.” He smiled, almost beginning to laugh at himself. You tilted your head up to look at him, narrowing your eyes playfully. 

“Are you implying that you have a crush on me now?” You cheekily asked and he rolled his eyes. “Baby…” You pouted patronizingly at him with a tease. “But also, no. No, you didn’t,” you teased a little more, a smile spreading across your face. “You simply wanted to win those games. You’re the most competitive person I’ve ever met. I was not your concern!” He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest.

“Fairs, that’s true that I wanted to win,” he admitted, Trent grinned, his dimples deepening as he recalled the memory, “but I swear… I mean I could even make pinpoint accurate passes then but I was purposefully mishitting the ball just so it’d end up rolling near where you were sitting. You were definitely a concern every time you showed.” He told you. “I mean, you know me always want to show off a little, especially for you.” He chuckled, but his eyes softened as he looked at you. You giggled a little smitten hearing his admission, covering your mouth with your hand at the revelation. 

“You’re not serious…” you asked, smiling at the idea of him planning such an elaborate yet subtle way to get your attention - risking his performance in front of others just to get to you? You couldn’t believe it. He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Yeah, I’m serious,” he replied. “I’d watch out of the corner of my eye, praying you’d look up or notice me. Even if you just rolled your eyes at us, it was worth it.” You couldn’t stop smiling, the memory taking you back to those carefree days. 

“That’s so dumb,” you said, but your voice was warm and full of affection. “For a few reasons, first off you knew I was watching just for you, Jack was shit at footie so I wasn’t exactly coming to watch him.” You both laughed. And he pulled you in a little tighter listening intently for hopefully a less humorous secondary reason. “But also because I was just trying to get you to notice me. I’m impressed with myself that you thought I was just hanging out. I used to try to act all nonchalant, you know? Like I was beyond uninterested. I would say I didn’t want to go tag along with Jack to my dad again and again but an hour later – I was dressed….” You went to keep speaking but Trent cut you off. 

“And you always looked beautiful by the way.” He told you. Butterflies filled your stomach for your current and younger self knowing the extra effort you put in to go to the park had Trent noticing. It wasn’t anything elaborate but your slicked back bun was done well, you’d have your jewelry on, a nice matching sweat set. Simple but evidently… very effective…eventually. 

“You’re sweet. But it was a facade. I’d just sit on a bench purposefully making sure I was in view or if it was warmer, I’d be picking at the grass, always ‘annoyed’ and waiting for Jack to be done, but in my head… I was praying you’d come over and say something, anything really.” You giggled, almost embarrassed you were admitting you’d been trying so hard. Trent’s eyebrows shot up, a look of disbelief and amusement crossing his face. 

“Nah,” he said, his hand moving to cradle the side of your face. “You were hoping for me to come over? Babbyy…” He drew out the word with a frown, not dramatically, not teasingly like yours before but just with a bit of a pout. You nodded sheepishly, your cheeks flushing with the shared embarrassment and sweetness of young, unspoken crushes. 

“Yeah, well…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Every single time. I’d always come for you. To watch you playing– I think I must’ve met some of the other boys ten times over before I even knew their names. All I wanted…  I was just hoping you’d notice me.” You told him. Your words flaring with a smile and then fading out into almost a pang of sadness. Trent felt the switch. He shook his head, but kept a smile full of wonder and nostalgia on his lips. 

“I noticed.” He reassured you, kissing your temple. “I noticed you probably the first time you showed. I had to play it cool though. It was long.” He laughed. “Kind of mad, we went from that to this, no?” he murmured letting you know he understood how crazy this relationship was and how long it had been building for. You looked into his eyes, the space between you shrinking as your faces drew closer. 

“I guess it couldn’t stay under the surface forever. Was bound to bubble over,” you said, a laugh escaping your lips. Trent leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours, the kiss sweet and unhurried, as if savoring the lost moments from your past. 

“And bubble over it did. No matter how long it took… I’m glad I’ve got you now.” He pulled back just enough to whisper. His thumb traced your cheek as he looked at you, his gaze full of warmth and contentment. You nodded, resting your forehead against his. The whole room slipped into a euphoric still. But then you thought back to those long days at the park, where you’d sit off to the side, pretending not to care but secretly hoping for any attention. Your dad said it’d be good for you to be with Jack and his friends. Layla would even sometimes join you, but mostly because it was just so hard to sit at home at your old house that was filled with so many memories and so you went. You went as an escape and a part of that very escape was your developing feelings for Trent. You felt the lump in your throat form but you swallowed it down. You didn’t want to bring in all of those emotions and so instead you opted for another sweet joke. 

“You know, whenever a ball came over… I just thought that was shit aim,” you teased, nudging him lightly. He feigned a hurt expression. 

“Aye, aye, aye, relax. My accuracy has always been top tier.  Was doing it on purpose.” His voice softened, but it flared with cheek and competitiveness just the way you liked it. “I just wanted any excuse to get near you.” He cooed. You giggled, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. 

“I used to trot over to grab it but you used to look so uninterested in me, like you were too cool to care about any of it, about me,” he said, shaking his head recalling how rattled he felt but how determined he became. You smiled feeling like that wasn’t the case. You tried to play nonchalant but you were screaming inside. “I thought you were impossible to impress.” Trent laughed, his eyes lighting up at the image. “But then I started smiling at you, I’d shoot you a wink and then maybe just maybe sometimes  I think I caught you watching just for me.” He smirked.  You bit your lip, feeling a tinge of embarrassment that he noticed but also amusement. 

“What was I meant to do!” You yelped. “I wanted you to think I was cool,” you admitted, “ but then I crumbled…. as you well know. You were always so loud and confident, it was hard to not look. Even back then, you knew you were good.” He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyebrows raised. 

“I tried to impress you. But to be fair, I knew I could,” he said smugly, the playful arrogance in his voice making you laugh. “But I think you’re underselling how good I really was. It was pick-up footie with schoolmates then I’d bounce off to the academy. You were watching because you knew I was the best one there.” He joked but also semi serious wanting to hear your confirmation he was the best. You rolled your eyes. You remembered once gushing to Layla about how good Trent was, that it was hot to see someone so talented at something. She teased you about having an easy way to become a wag. But that wasn’t it. He could’ve just been Jack's friend. The bouncing off to the academy after was the thing you cared about the least. 

“Yeah, exactly that.” You sarcastically snapped back. “More like, I was just waiting for you to make a fool of yourself,” you joked, your grin widening. “Skying the ball over the bar because you had to take every free kick.” You teased and Trent’s eyes widened but you could feel him loving the banter. Loving it secretly even more than a compliment. “Honestly, I think I’d have been a better player than you if I had joined the games.” You told him with faux seriousness. Trent’s jaw dropped in mock offense. 

“Excuse me? You think you could strike a better dead ball than me? ’Got a better right foot than me?” he asked, his voice incredulous but his eyes gleaming with excitement. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease him further, leaning in closer with a smug smile. 

“Absolutely. I’d have shown you up, easy. Just didn’t want to embarrass you.” You quipped. He pulled away from you immediately, his face contorting into an exaggerated expression of shock that soon melted into a cheeky grin. 

“Yeah? That so?” he questioned, his tone full of playful challenge. “Alright then, if you’re so confident, you’re gonna have to prove it.” Before you could respond, he suddenly stood up from the sofa and, in one swift motion, scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder. You let out a surprised squeal, half-laughing and half-protesting as he carried you toward the glass doors that led to the back garden.

“Where are we going?!” you shrieked, still laughing as he ignored your protests.

“To the back garden,” he declared, a competitive glint in his eye. “If you’re so good, you’ve got to show me right now.” You couldn’t stop laughing, your heart racing with the thrill of his sudden challenge. 

“T! You’re being ridiculous!” you managed to say through your giggles, but deep down, you loved every second of it. Trent carried you effortlessly through the house, your squeals and laughter filling the living room as he made his way toward the glass doors that led to the back garden. You squirmed in his hold, trying to wriggle free, but he only tightened his grip around your waist, his laughter rumbling through his chest. “Trent!” you cried out, half laughing, half gasping. “Put me down! I’m not even dressed to go outside!” He grinned at your complaint, completely unbothered, and slid open the glass doors with one hand. The crisp air of early evening swept in, the sky had begun to turn shades of navy streaked with orange. He stepped out onto the grass, finally setting you down but keeping a firm grip on your shoulders to stop you from escaping.

“You think you’ve got a better right foot than me, yeah?” he challenged, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well… go on then. Show me what you’ve got.” He mocked you as you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to feign an air of confidence even though you knew this was ridiculous. 

“I can’t play like this!” you protested, gesturing to your outfit—cozy lounge shorts and an oversized jumper of his but most of all slippers… hardly proper attire for any football.Trent raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a grin. 

“Excuses already?” he teased. “And here I was, thinking you’d at least try to back up all that talk.” You stuck out your tongue at him, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

“Fine,” you conceded. “But don’t cry when you realize I’m actually better than you.” You were talking a good game but even with your decent athleticism aside… you were mildly nervous but you continued to joke about. “You’re not cute when you lose.” You teased him recalling all the times he’d simply lost a board game and how he’d pout. Annoyingly, it was actually cute but you’d tell him otherwise for the sake of banter and the moment. He laughed, and the sound was warm and bright in the fading sunlight. 

“I’m not a sore loser!” He yelped and you raised your brow silently telling him to be realistic. He was a bad loser. “Nah, alright, if you embarrass me, I’ll retire from football right now,” he joked, stepping back to give you space. “But I won’t hold back.” You rolled your eyes, feeling the playful competitiveness radiate between the two of you. He jogged off to a shed tucked in the corner of the garden where he had a ball stored, The game about to start as a lighthearted test of skill, with both of you brimming with playful energy. Trent, competitive as ever, had made sure to set the stakes high, a teasing grin stretched across his face as he dropped the ball onto the grass and rolled it toward you. The moment the ball reached your feet your heart slowed. You weren’t sure how serious either of you were being. This was a joke, right? What if he thought you were shit? What if he thought you were trying too hard? Nevertheless, with an exaggerated flick of your hair, you picked your head toward him. 

“Ready to lose?” you taunted. He feigned a look of horror but then smiled. 

“Never, baby,” he said, already moving into a more defensive position. “I rarely do.” He reminded him. You squared your shoulders, and with a grin, you nudged the ball forward with your foot, feeling your heart race. You took a step forward with it. Trent was all playful resistance, putting on his most intimidating game face while still clearly holding back. You juked left dramatically as a joke as if you were actually going to try to go past him and both of you bursting out into giggles. But still you took one more little jab at the ball just to edge it past him amidst the laughter—though, admittedly, it was more because he was enjoying the moment than you actually outplaying him. He turned round and dragged the ball back with his feet. He was going to be offensive now. Trent tapped the ball lightly, his feet dancing around it with a series of quick step-overs and fancy tricks, every movement of his ridiculously smooth. At first you were momentarily mesmerized, seeing it all so close up for the first time. You were experiencing a, yes, exaggerated, humorous, and overzealous, performance of his, but still, close to what it was like to face someone like him on a pitch. You stuck your leg out attempting to poke the ball away or pull it back to you, trying to swipe the ball away from him. He sidestepped easily, a laugh bursting from his lips, not mockingly just teasingly, as he kept the ball just out of reach; enjoying this way too much.

“Okay, okay, you can stop showing off!” you complained, trying to keep up, but he only chuckled, now purposefully dribbling circles around you. You stopped trying minutes ago. You, frankly, never really gave any of this silly game much effort.

“I thought you said you were better, no?” he teased, his voice full of mischief. His eyes glinted with pure joy, and you couldn’t help but smile even through your feigned frustration. Trent loved being good at things and this… winning a challenge, playing football… he was good at. The cool air was biting at your skin, but the warmth of the moment made it hard to feel anything but happiness. “Come on, you’re not even trying!” he taunted, shifting the ball back and forth with smooth footwork. He wanted you to actually try but you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him. Feigning annoyance you groaned, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play it…” You pretended like you were about to actually give it a go but you decided on a different tactic. With a devious smile, you waited until Trent had planted the ball under his foot, taking a moment to catch his breath while still managing to look smug. Then, without warning, you launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his waist from behind and dragging your whole weight against him. Trent stumbled slightly, his laughter ringing out into the garden. 

“Oi! Ref!” he shouted, his voice full of playful outrage. “That’s a foul! A yellow card for sure! Get her off the pitch!” You laughed, clinging to him tighter. He twisted around in your embrace, trying to keep the ball pinned under his foot, but he was losing the fight. His laughter made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but grin as you pressed your cheek against his back, feeling the warmth radiate from him. Trent’s laughter began to subside, and he tried to turn his head to look at you, his eyes dancing with delight. “You’re a snake! You think you’re sneaky, huh?” he teased. “Trying to take me out by cheating?” You giggled, unrepentant, as you slid your hands from his waist up to drape them around his neck. 

“What? Me? Never.” Leaning up, you began to plant soft, ticklish kisses along his jawline, moving up to his ear and whispering, “You know, if you’d just given me the ball, I wouldn’t have had to resort to these tactics.” Trent stumbled a bit more, his knees almost buckling as he tried to resist the effect you had on him. His hands moved to hold your arms, and you took the opportunity to pepper even more kisses along his neck. Finally, he twisted fully around, his smile bright and wide, but before he could say anything more, you leaned up and kissed him properly. His eyes widened for a second, but he melted into it, the laughter leaving his body as the energy shifted between you. The kiss started sweet, the two of you still grinning against each other’s lips, but then Trent’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, and you could feel his breath hitch as he gave in. 

“That… that was definitely a red card.” He pulled back just a fraction, his lips barely brushing yours as he whispered. His voice had dropped, becoming huskier, and you shivered at the way he looked at you. The playful atmosphere morphed into something more electric, more intense, and you couldn’t help but feel the heat rising between you. You met his gaze, your heart pounding. 

“Oh? A red card, really?” you murmured. He nodded slowly, his eyes darkening as his hands moved from your back to cup your face. 

“Yeah. But we can play on. I’m not sure I mind your tactics,” he whispered. His fingers traced your jawline, and the way he looked at you made your knees weak. The playfulness had melted away, leaving only a shared desire, and you knew the game was long forgotten. A smile tugged at your lips, but you leaned in, capturing his mouth with yours again. The air was still cool, the night sky overhead, but all you could feel was Trent, his warmth, and the way he made the world fade away. You both stood there, catching your breath and grinning at each other, the garden bathed in the last light of the day. It felt like one of those perfect moments you’d remember forever—just the two of you, tangled in laughter and love.

One night, it was a friend of a friends birthday party you all had been invited to; Jack, all his mates, Trent, Layla, it was a massive event. Your house buzzed with the energy of pre-party excitement. Music played from every direction on surround sound speakers. A few of Jack’s mates had already shown up, their laughter echoing faintly from the living room. You had invited Layla over to get ready with you, knowing you both wanted to look your best for the party. The evening was promising to be memorable, with everyone gathering together for the night out. Although a part of you was really anxious, you worried about your feelings, alcohol, and Trent mixing in the same room but you pushed it down. You giggled upstairs with Layla trying on outfits in your wardrobe, but had taken extra precaution ahead of time to hide any remnants of Trent; a jumper, some boxers, condoms, an array of items that frankly wouldn't be damning evidence but you were nervous. In the middle of getting dressed, you realized you desperately needed water—both you and Layla did. You’d promised her a drink to aid in staving off the inevitable hangover you’d both likely have tomorrow, so you ran downstairs in your relaxed outfit: oversized sweats and a tiny tank top. Despite your hair and makeup being perfectly done, you felt comfortable and at ease at home as you snuck down quickly but all it padded with a sense of nerves. As you made your way into the kitchen, you noticed Trent. He’d already arrived to pregame, his presence instantly shifting the air in the room. He looked incredible, wearing just a white t-shirt that highlighted his tan skin, his hair freshly trimmed, and a gold chain peeking out from beneath the neckline. The look on his face that lit up when he saw you was sweet, and genuine. A moment to be alone together again suddenly appeared but you'd do your best to ignore it. Not here. Not now.

“Hey pretty girl,” he greeted, his voice low and teasing but quiet. The nickname wasn’t something other people hadn’t heard. He’d called you it for ages but what you hadn’t done for ages was what you were doing lately. Something was very different. You were sleeping together to say the least. You rolled your eyes at him pretending not to care as you normally would, walking around the kitchen island to get your drinks. You’d say something eventually but you had to play it cool. Jack and all their friends were in the other room, Layla upstairs. You filled a cup of water, moving to fill a second. But before you could do that, before you could say anything to him, he closed the distance between you, reaching out to tug on the waistband of your sweatpants and pulling you backward into him. You yelped, almost spilling the water you had just gotten. 

“Babyyy,” you whined instinctually, playfully, glaring at him with mock exasperation, but your pout couldn’t hold as Trent wrapped his arms around your waist. It was too natural now. It was as if any fear dissipated when he stepped within a foot of you. Trent knew everyone was occupied in the other room with a game, he knew Layla was upstairs so he couldn’t resist stealing this moment. He wanted you to be back in his arms. He held you tight, his touch warm and familiar, his grip grounding you in a way that made your heart race. He chuckled, pressing his chin against your shoulder. 

“Shhhh.” He hushed you calling him the pet name aloud although with a smile because he didn’t actually mind hearing it. “Can’t be doing that... but I just couldn’t resist you though,” he murmured, his voice full of affection. He thought you were alone, that this was a stolen moment between just the two of you. And so did you. You leaned back into him, pouting dramatically. 

“You made me spill my water,” you said, your voice half a giggle, half a protest. Trent smirked, clearly amused but unfazed. He leaned in closer, his face hovering near yours, his intentions obvious. His gaze held that gentle intensity that always made you melt, and you prepared to let him steal a kiss—

“OH MY GOD!” Layla’s scream cut through the air, making you both jump apart. Your eyes widened in shock, and you turned to see her standing at the base of the stairs, eyes as wide as saucers, her mouth hanging open. “I fucking knew it!” she yelled, her voice rising in pitch with excitement. “I fucking knew there was something bigger going on between you two! Oh my fucking god, how long has this been happening?!” She yelled running into the kitchen.  You stumbled out of Trent’s embrace, your face burning.

“Lay… oh fuck. It’s not… it’s just…” you tried to form a coherent sentence, stepping toward her in a flustered panic. “Just shhh.” You now hushed her.  Trent scratched the back of his neck, clearly equally rattled but there was a fullness to his cheeks.

“Lays, we’re just…” he began, trying to calm her down. But she wasn’t having it. She looked between the two of you, her eyes lighting up with even more surprise and delight. 

“This is serious! You two are so… so lovey-dovey! Oh my days. So it wasn’t a one time thing? Jack’s going to die when he finds out!” She babbled on too overtaken by her surprise to have any sort of decorum or consciousness, mindfulness regarding the delicacy of this all. You ran over to her, covering her mouth with your hand, your own heart pounding with anxiety.

“Please, Layla,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t say anything yet. I promise I’ll tell you everything. Just… not now. You can’t tell anyone. Please.” You whispered harshly pleading just to her. You looked at her seriously. A look she knew well. It confirmed you and Trent were more than nothing. Trent came closer to you both, still looking uncomfortable but trying to add to the appeal. 

“Yeah, we’re… just figuring things out,” he said cautiously, trying to convey the delicateness of your situation. “Just let it stay hush for now, yeah?” He told her. Layla pulled your hand off her mouth, her eyes wide and questioning. 

“Figuring things out?” she echoed, confused by the vagueness turning towards you for clarity but you didn’t have any. She could sense that. Her gaze softened, and she nodded slowly, realizing the tension between the two of you. Both you and Trent felt a twinge of awkwardness at what you had both said. Even though it was honest, Trent belittled you and his relationship down to figuring things out. Where Trent thought you may have been wanting to hide things entirely, forever. It was all so confusing. You wondered if he was downplaying your relationship, and he worried that maybe you were keeping things too ambiguous. It stung a bit, this uncertainty of what you both really meant to each other. But for now, officially… someone else knew. Someone knew that you and Trent were no longer just friends. Layla had seen the reality of what you and Trent were, how real and raw this thing between you was. The secret was out, and the weight of it felt equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

You left the room with a nod of certainty from Trent. You had no option other than to drag Layla upstairs immediately swearing her to secrecy. You couldn’t risk Jack overhearing this conversation downstairs any longer. You hated you hadn’t told her more since the first hook up but how could you? Trent shot Layla a wink and her jaw dropped as you pulled her to the staircase.  As soon as the door to your bedroom shut, you and Layla burst into almost panicked laughter, the nerves of her catching you with Trent bubbling over. Her giggles were of disbelief, yours in fear. Layla immediately threw her arms around you, still bouncing with shock and delight. 

“What the fuck! What the fuck! Why did you hide this from me!!?!” she squealed, her voice just barely above a whisper but it was strained as if the walls themselves might betray the secret.

“I’m so so so sorry... Seriously, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you admitted, guilt mixed with an overwhelming need to finally let someone in on everything. You couldn’t hold back the truth anymore, not with Layla’s eyes wide and eager. She tugged you over to the bed, her curiosity palpable. 

“Alright, secret's out. Spill it,” she demanded, crossing her legs and folding her arms, ready to listen. You took a deep breath, searching for the words to explain the whirlwind of the last few months. 

“It’s been…” You couldn’t bite back the smile that Trent brought to your face.

“Oh my god!!!! So you’ve been properly hanging out, not just fucking?” Layla jumped the gun, completely shocked by the look the relationship brought to your face.

“Layla….” You steadied her. You’d tell her everything, if she’d just be patient enough to listen. She waved an apology telling you to go on. “It’s been so good. Honestly, I never expected it to actually happen, but he’s just…” Your voice softened, the warmth flooding your cheeks as you thought of him. “He’s been so sweet, Lays. Like, really sweet. Thoughtful, kind, funny. He has this way of making me feel like I’m the only one in the room, even when we’re hiding from the world.” You started to let the stories spill out, one by one: the little glances he’d give you across crowded rooms, how he’d brush his hand along yours in passing, those quiet moments spent tangled up in each other’s arms as morning light painted shadows on the sheets. “We’d just lay there, not needing to say anything,” you murmured. “He’s so different when it’s just the two of us. There’s this softness to him, this… I don’t know, it feels so real. But—” You stopped, that familiar ache settling in your chest. Layla’s brows furrowed slightly. 

“But?” she prompted gently. She was biting back a million questions, comments, and concerns. She was trying just to listen, no opinions just yet.

“It’s like… every time we’re together, I feel like we’re on the verge of something real. But the second he leaves, I’m left wondering if I even exist in his life outside of those moments.” You let out a sigh, frustration mixing with the warmth of your memories. “It’s just—everything’s hidden. We’re hidden. And I’m terrified that I’m just some secret he’s keeping, like… like one of his other ‘girl of the season’ situations.” You explained sheepishly. You hated that this insecurity came with all the joy. You were almost embarrassed to let Layla into how complacent you’d been to it all. 

“So, you’re afraid that he sees you like he’s seen other girls in the past? Just… temporary?” Layla looked at you thoughtfully. You nodded, looking down, feeling the weight of the confession. 

“He says it’s different, and when I’m with him, I believe it. I want to believe it. But I can’t shake this feeling that I’m living this double life, like I’m only part of his world when it’s convenient. It’s one thing to keep it from Jack, but keeping it from you, from everyone else—it just makes me feel like… maybe he’s not serious about this. About us.” You muttered. Layla reached over, squeezing your hand, her face softening with understanding. 

“I mean to be fair… I don’t think girl’s of the season have been given cars no strings attached.” She smirked teasingly knowing this relationship had been long brewing. “But that’s kind of the point… you could never be them. This situation is so sensitive. But, you know… it sounds like it’s real to you. I think what’s hard is that you are not just a secret in his world, you’re a big one. He winked at me when we left, like a confirmation I’d keep a tight lip. And I get that it’s complicated, but you deserve someone who isn’t afraid to let everyone know how he feels about you. Publicly… Openly.!” She told you the opinion you were waiting to hear. The one you knew had kept you from telling her to begin with. One you had a hard time stomaching because you knew it was correct.  You bit your lip, her words hitting you harder than you expected. 

“That’s the thing… when I’m with him, I don’t doubt it. I know he cares. But the minute he’s gone, it’s like I’m pulled back into reality, and I realize that in addition to his footballer lifestyle… layer on the fact that I’m still just—Jack’s little sister. And the thought that I might never be more than that to him—it terrifies me.” You earnestly admitted. Layla wrapped an arm around your shoulder, her expression soft but determined. 

“Look, you deserve to be someone’s first choice, not a hidden chapter in their life. I know it’s scary,it probably is for him equally but maybe it’s time to be honest with him about what you need. All these little moments—they’re beautiful, yeah. But you deserve more than just stolen hours and hidden smiles. You deserve a real relationship. At the very least, I deserve a relationship you can at least tell me about.” She teased with a smile but it was tense. Her words lingered, settling somewhere deep within you. It was the honesty you’d been too afraid to face, the thing you’d been pushing aside every time you let yourself get lost in Trent’s arms. And as you sat there, talking it through with Layla, you felt the weight of your choices, your emotions sharpened into something you could finally name. You had a choice to make—keep clinging to the comfort of those stolen moments or take the leap and tell Trent that you wanted, needed, something real. “And… you can’t change the fact you are Jack’s sister.” She sheepishly reminded you hesitantly almost as if she could feel the knife twist inside of you from it. You and Layla sat quietly, the weight of her question heavy in the air between you. She looked at you expectantly, and when she asked when you’d tell Jack, the answer flew out of your mouth without hesitation.

“I can’t,” you said, the words sounding almost defensive, but as they hung there, something shifted inside you, a realization settling in your gut like a stone. Layla noticed it, too. Her face softened as you fell silent, the gravity of it finally hitting you both. 

“If not now… when?” she asked gently. Her words were careful, but the question was razor-sharp, and you felt it cut right to the heart of everything you’d been holding back. You thought about it, really thought about it, for the first time. When would there ever be a right time? Layla seemed to read every doubt as it flickered across your face. She sighed, trying to keep the worry out of her voice but not quite succeeding. Your relationship with Trent unraveling before your eyes. It took all of two questions for the foundation to shake. “Babe,” she started, reaching for your hand, “If you really want him and he makes you happy… that’s all any of us want for you. Jack just wants you happy. It might take him a while, but he’d get over it.” She paused, giving you a small, uncertain smile. “But… I won’t lie, it might be a bit of a mess. Especially now that it’s been hidden so long.” She slyly reprimanded you for not even filling your best friend on this whole situation. She was right. Was she right? You nodded anyway, undecided but unable to look at her directly. You hadn’t just hidden this from Jack—you’d hidden it from her, from everyone. And the longer it had gone on, the more it had felt like the walls were closing in. You looked at her, the weight of the truth crashing over you like a wave, pulling you under.

“How did I let it get this far? How did I let it become… this?” The guilt twisted in your chest, and you almost couldn’t bear to see the hurt in Layla’s eyes. “How could I lie to you, to Jack, and for what? To be a secret hidden away in his mansion?” She squeezed your hand, trying to find the right words. What once felt exciting felt anything but.

“Hey, listen,” she said softly, “I know it’s more than that. It must be to him as well. He’s risking a lot. You wouldn’t have gotten this far if it wasn’t real, if there wasn’t something worth all this.” She gave a small, sad smile. “But… I get it. This isn’t you. Keeping secrets, hiding things—it’s not who you are. Never has been.” And as she said it, you felt it. The ache of it, how far you’d drifted from who you wanted to be. You’d always trusted Layla, trusted Jack, and now here you were, caught between fear and love, between loyalty and your own heart. 

“I didn’t technically lie,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I just… omitted the truth.” You sheepishly told her, reminding yourself that you also trusted Trent and your heart and that’s why you ended up here. Layla nodded, her face thoughtful but filled with understanding. 

“But does it feel worth it?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. You were silent, unable to answer. Because the truth was you didn’t know if it was worth it—worth the risk, worth the lies, worth the tension pulling at you from every angle. And as you looked back at Layla, her eyes full of hope and worry, you wondered if you’d have the courage to find out. 

Maybe you didn’t know exactly what you wanted out of the relationship but tonight, after a tequila shot that ignited a confidence you didn't realize was simmering, you and Layla both decided what you wanted, for at the very least tonight; was him. The night unfolded in a familiar dance between you and Trent, just as it always had. You stayed close, barely touching, your hand brushing his as you passed by, leaning into him when you laughed, your voice lingering just a bit too close. But then, you pushed it further. You caught his gaze and held it, a mischievous spark lighting up in your eyes. As the party pulsed around you, you slipped closer, cupping the shell of his ear, whispering something lighthearted into his ear while your teeth grazed his earlobe, feeling his whole body react. He turned, a cheeky, almost disbelieving smirk spreading across his face, clearly caught off guard but thrilled by the shift. 

"Oh, so you want to play that way?" he teased, his tone low and daring. You two always tucked off at parties this wasn’t news but what you just whispered was. You nodded, flashing a smile, more certain than ever. He chuckled, narrowing his eyes in that competitive, confident way that both thrilled and terrified you. "I don't lose, baby," he reminded you, his voice a challenge as he leaned back, arms crossed, watching to see what you'd do next. The thrill of his words sent a shiver through you, your heartbeat matching the tempo of the music, and suddenly, it was all a game of daring glances and lingering touches, neither of you breaking the tension. So you continued to tease as you brushed your hand over his as you reached for a drink, let your fingers trail across his back as you slipped past him, laughing a little too sweetly in his ear. And Trent was no less relentless, stepping close enough that his breath tickled your cheek, his hand brushing your lower back just as he moved to let someone by, his gaze a quiet, playful reminder that he was more than ready to keep up. It became an unspoken competition, each of you pushing the limits just to see who would break first. Now that you had had a taste, knowing what was possible, every moment grew sharper, more electric, and even in the crowded room, it felt like it was only the two of you, locked in this game of desire and restraint, neither one willing to give in-yet. Until an idea popped into your head to get him to cave. 

"Lay, can you see my nipples in this?" you asked, feigning nonchalance as you all stood in the kitchen. You turned solely to Layla, your eyes wide with playful innocence as you tugged at the hem of your shirt. The overhead recessed lighting illuminating you. You tilted your head slightly, looking down at the thin shimmery material, your fingers tracing the fabric, exposing just a little more of your skin. It was a bold question but Layla hummed not phased in the least. Playing her role. Yes, you wore this shirt because you could do just that very thing. 

"Babe, I think that's the point of that top," she teased, her eyes sparkling as she looked you over. Her humor was unwavering in character, pretending this wasn’t a planned conversation. "But it's a party, you look stun! Your tit’s are perfect. Arguably, the best part of the fit." She told you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Trent shift slightly, his jaw tightening as he took another sip of his drink. You knew he was trying to hold back, that this question was pushing him to his edge. So, you decided to take it even further, turning to him with a coy smile.

"What do you think, T?" you asked, tilting your head as if you were just seeking an honest opinion. His eyes flickered over you, his hand tightening around his glass, his expression a mix of amusement and restraint.

"Think you know what I think," he said, voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone. He shot you a look, something intense behind his gaze, and you could see him fighting not to react as much as he wanted to.

“Well could you share with the class?" Layla interrupted, prompting Trent to actually have to articulate his feelings and smiling as she did it. You shrugged, tossing her a wink as if this was all in good fun, but you felt the charge in the air between you and Trent. You'd pushed him just far enough, and the look in his eyes told you he'd make you pay for it later. Trent's gaze dropped, his expression shifting, a mix of amusement and tension in his eyes as you dared to pull him further into this game. His grip tightened around his drink once over, clearly trying to hold himself back. He shot you a low, heated look that felt as much a warning as it did a challenge. 

"You're pushing it," he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. But there was a hint of a smirk as he looked at you, a spark that showed he was just as invested in this as you were.

"Why?" You teased aloud, cocking your head with feigned innocence, fingers lightly tracing the edge of your top, letting his eyes follow the path. "Does it not look alright?” You asked. He exhaled, a slow, measured sound, his gaze moving from your shirt to your face.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to," he replied, fighting a grin, as his hand discreetly brushed your arm. His voice was soft, almost casual, but you could feel the tension behind it, each word carrying a weight he didn't want to admit out loud. He was a little annoyed that you now had Layla on your team to tease him. It was 2 v 1.  You now had a man advantage.

“So you don’t like it?” Layla asked Trent, feigning offense for you. Trent rolled his eyes at her. She laughed, shaking her head.  You just smiled, playing along, turning to Trent with a mischievous look.

"Wait, you don’t like it?" you pressed, pretending not to notice how close you'd pulled him into your orbit. Trent took another breath trying to think how to navigate this. All he wanted to do was drag you into any bedroom and tell you just how much he really liked the way you looked but he couldn’t. Layla already found out tonight, no one else could. His silence was telling but also deafening. "Do you like the way I look or not?" You asked with drunken confidence. He looked at you, eyes sharp, with a grin he couldn't contain. 

"Enough. You know my answer. Drop it" His voice had that edge again, that quiet challenge that sent a thrill through you. There was a split-second pause, a moment charged with the unspoken, before you stepped back, keeping your own playful expression in place. But you knew it was a matter of time before one of you broke, before this playful game turned into something real.  

As the night wore on, the crowd and music faded into a backdrop, leaving only the charged atmosphere between you and Trent. It was an unspoken battle of wills, a daring game that grew bolder with each passing second. You felt his eyes following you across the room, and the thrill of being wanted, truly wanted, filled you with a mix of confidence and something new, something closer to risk. The sheer top and conversation didn’t prove to be enough and you were starting to feel a bit… needy. The music pulsed as you approached him with a casual smile, keeping your expression neutral while letting your fingers brush along his arm as you passed. He barely reacted, save for a flicker in his gaze that told you he felt it. Moments later, he slipped past you in a crowded corner, his hand just grazing the small of your back as he leaned close, lips at your ear. "You're not going to win," he whispered, his voice both soft and daring. You shot him a challenging look, cocking your head just slightly. 

"You think I'll back down that easily? For you?" You taunted. A knowing smirk played on his lips as he took a slow step closer, his arm stretching around you to reach for a drink. His body pressed just lightly against yours, lingering in a way that made your skin tingle. 

"Not sure you know what you've started," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as he finally pulled away. A small gasp left your lips, covered by the music, as he gave you a smug look and turned his attention back to the party. It only made you more determined. The evening continued like this-every move, every touch, carefully calculated. You brushed his shoulder with your hand while walking by, your fingers trailing just enough to make him turn. He placed a hand on your arm, steadying you as you reached for your glass, his fingers pressing just enough to remind you of his presence. By the time the lights dimmed, your heart was racing. You were now getting antsy. He was too good at having restraint. You now were beyond needy. 

"Not going to quit, are you?" You leaned in close, brushing your lips by his ear as you whispered. A chuckle escaped his lips, low and filled with confidence. 

"Not a chance. I told you-l don't lose." He smirked. You took a bold step forward, letting your hand linger on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm as you looked up into his eyes. The tension was almost overwhelming, each of you daring the other to give in. But instead of backing down, you pulled him even closer, so close you could feel his breath on your neck, close enough to hear him exhale as his hand settled firmly on your waist. This wasn't the subtle game it had started as— it was unmistakable now, and neither of you conscious enough to know if anyone would noticed. No one had, too caught up in their own drunken escapades to noticed you’d fallen down a rabbit hole in yours. You slipped your hand around his back, pressing into him as the tension between you reached a breaking point. Trent looked at you, a mixture of heat and amusement in his eyes as he brought his lips close, stopping just shy of kissing you, letting the moment stretch out until it was nearly unbearable. "You want me to call it a draw?" he murmured, voice thick with that same mix of excitement and restraint. You smirked, shaking your head just a fraction. Your heart raced at the thought of being alone with him, away from prying eyes. You'd fantasized about this moment since your last and now you wanted it even more. The thrill of it almost being public but still hidden turning you on an embarrassing amount, pushing any clear thinking out the window. 

"No, I thought you don’t lose." You reminded him. And he didn’t. You did when you tucked off to the bathroom. The party’s buzz felt distant as you stumbled down the hallway, your movements light but unsteady, fueled by a mix of alcohol and adrenaline. Your skin burned with the heat of Trent’s lingering touch, your head spinning from the intensity of his gaze, the press of his body against yours. You’d hit your limit, unable to take the teasing any longer, and now all you could think about was escaping to collect yourself Trent’s dark eyes followed your retreat, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, as he watched you sway slightly in your steps. You didn’t turn back—you couldn’t. If you did, you’d be pulled right back into him, and you weren’t sure if you could hold yourself together. Trent chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He knew exactly why you were walking away, and the thought of you trying to resist him only made him more certain of his power over you.

When you reached the bathroom, you pushed the door closed with a soft thud, pressing your back against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. But you were determined and horny. Your fingers trembled as you peeled off the flimsy sheer top you’d teased Trent in the whole night, your skin cooling in the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom. The mirror caught your reflection, the flush on your cheeks, the messy allure of your hair, and the way the glow of the dim light seemed to highlight every curve. You bit your lip, tilting your head as you studied your reflection, feeling bold under the influence of tequila and Trent’s attention.You grabbed your phone, angling it just right as you snapped a few photos in the mirror, each one bolder than the last. Finally, satisfied, you selected the one that captured just the right mix of sultry and confident. The thrill of the moment rushed through you as you typed out a single message.

You hit send, your heart pounding as you imagined his reaction. Across the party, Trent felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. A signal of victory. His smirk deepened as he pulled it out, casually unlocking the screen. When he saw the photo, his breath caught for a split second, his tongue running over his bottom lip as his eyes lingered on the image. You looked unreal. Without hesitation, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and straightened up, his casual demeanor hiding the urgency he felt. He didn’t bother replying; words wouldn’t cut it. He needed to see you, touch you, remind you exactly why you couldn’t stay away. As he weaved through the crowded party, his smirk stayed firmly in place. Trent Alexander-Arnold was a man on a mission, and he had every intention of making sure you regretted ever starting this game. 

You waited for him, like you always had. The air in the bathroom felt thick, charged with anticipation. Your heart raced as you adjusted your stance, bracing yourself for what was to come. A soft knock broke the silence, cautious yet laced with the kind of confidence only Trent could muster. You bit your lip, smiling to yourself.

"It's me," he murmured through the door. You hummed softly in confirmation, and he didn't hesitate to slip inside. The door closed with a quiet click, and the lock turned with a finality that sent shivers down your spine. "Baby, baby, baby…," he taunted, his voice low and teasing as he leaned casually against the door. You couldn't hold back your smirk. His presence filled the small room, intoxicating and overwhelming all at once. "You going to be gracious in defeat?" he asked, his eyes dark and focused as he closed the space between you. You tilted your chin up defiantly, even as your pulse quickened. 

"You never told me if you liked the top or not," you countered, your voice a soft challenge.Trent's smirk widened, predatory, as he stepped closer. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him with a force that made your breath hitch. The edge of the marble sink pressed into your back as he pinned you there, his body crowding yours.

"I think," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, sending a delicious shiver down your neck, "I might like you better without it.” Before you could respond, his lips descended on your neck, warm and insistent, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your knees weaken. You gasped, your hands instinctively finding his shoulders for support.

"T..." you started, but your words dissolved into a moan as his mouth trailed lower, sucking softly at the sensitive spot near your collarbone.

"You were being too obvious," he scolded lightly between kisses, his voice vibrating against your skin. You tried to protest, shaking your head. 

"I wasn't..." you began, but the sentence fell apart as his teeth nipped at your neck, followed by the soothing sweep of his tongue.The sound that escaped your lips was involuntary, a mix of frustration and desire. "God, I fucking love how your lips feel on me," you breathed out, your head tilting back as he smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with himself. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you impossibly closer as he continued his slow, deliberate assault. He wasn't just kissing you-he was claiming you, reminding you that no matter how hard you tried to play coy, he would always have the upper hand.

"Say it again," he murmured, his lips hovering just over your jawline. You barely had the breath to comply, your fingers curling into his shirt. 

"I love it," you whispered. "I love the way you-" Trent silenced you with his lips on yours, cutting off the confession as his mouth moved with an intensity that left you dizzy. The room spun, and for a moment, the world outside that bathroom didn't exist. "We’ll be quick and you’ll be quiet, yeah?” he said, his voice dropping and getting huskier. You looked at him in a haze, your eyes taking in his muscular frame, accentuated by the soft glow of the lighting. 

“I’ll be quiet but this won’t be quick," you whispered, reaching up to caress his face. Trent's eyes darkened with desire as he pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in another passionate kiss. His tongue danced with yours, tasting the remnants of the liquor you'd been drinking. You moaned into his mouth, your hands roaming over his broad shoulders, feeling the strength in his arms. Breaking the kiss, Trent trailed his lips down your neck again, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses. He nipped at your sensitive skin, causing you to arch into him, craving more. 

"I think we’re getting a little reckless," he murmured against your skin almost tauntingly.

"Absolutely," you whispered, your voice breathy with anticipation. Trent's hands came to palm your bare cheat. Finally after all night, all that teasing, behind that flimsy material, your tits were all for him. He cupped them, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a gasp from you. 

"We should maybe stop" he whispered, his breath hot on your skin. He was mocking you. He wasn’t going to stop. Not in a million years and you both knew that. You leaned back against the marble counter, allowing him access to your body. 

“Definitely.” You whined as his kisses to your jaw, over it, working down your neck towards your collarbone diligently. He sucked on a sensitive spot, bitting a little with his teeth pulling at your skin. You hissed at the pain and then melted into pleasure as he continued sucking over the spot soothing it with his tongue. He placed a few more harsh bites on you leaving behind marks as your eyes rolled back in pleasure feeling his perfect lips. Trent moved over your body in what felt like slow motion as he reached your tits. You could barely think straight as his lips closed around one nipple, sucking gently at first, then with increasing urgency. His tongue teased and flicked, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You threaded your fingers into his curls, holding him close, encouraging him to continue.

"You love this, don't you?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire, muffled against your skin. "You wanted to get caught.” He told you partly out of curiosity and partly out of seduction. 

"Yeah," you breathed, your head falling back as he switched to the other nipple, lavishing it with equal attention. "Don't stop, please." Trent's hands traveled down your body, his fingers deftly unzipping your skirt, sliding it down your legs until you were before him in just your panties and heels. He took a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form, a look of pure admiration on his face.

“You’re fucking unreal.” He cooed a bit in disbelief caught in a place of wanted control and loosing any sense of it around you. “We’re gonna get caught, you want that baby?” he said, his voice thick with mock. You stepped forward, closing the distance between you, and reached for his belt, eager to touch him. Your fingers fumbled with the buckle, but soon you had his trousers unfastened, revealing his boxers, tented with his obvious arousal.

“Please.” You whimpered as took over, quickly shedding his pants and underwear. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, standing proudly before you. You sank to your knees, taking him in your hands, stroking his length. Trent's breath hitched as you leaned forward, licking the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum that beaded there. You took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, earning a groan of pleasure from him.

"Fuck, you're incredible," he muttered, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding your movements. You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, your throat opening to accommodate his girth. Trent's hips thrust gently, meeting your rhythm, as he savored the sensations you were providing. 

“Do you like winning, baby?” You mumbled sloppy  words, knowing they’d only turn him on more. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, as you sucked and teased, determined to give him the best blowjob of his life.

"I'm close, baby," he warned, his voice strained. "But you’re gonna let me come inside you, hmm?" He asked but really he was telling you. You stood, your body humming with desire.  His hands pushed your hips towards the sink counter. The cold marble protruded into your back. You gasped but he swallowed it with a kiss. He lifted you up easily and placed you on the counter. The kiss was hot and heavy, his tongue immediately invading your mouth and toying with yours. He let his hand drift back down and slid one finger directly inside you eliciting another gasp from you. His sudden moments made the base of your spine tingle, but when his thumb began to draw precise circles on your clit, your body shook slightly as a deep moan got lost in his mouth. When he dipped another finger into your wet heat, he pulled another deep moan from you and in an attempt to push you closer to the edge, he curled his fingers even further against that one spot and pressed his thumb into your clit harder. It didn’t take long until you came around his fingers. Your slick dripping down his hand. He pulled his fingers out slowly covered in your juices, he stuck them in your mouth and you greedily sucked his fingers licking around them like you just did his cock while he began pumping his leaking hard on with his other hand. In swift movements, he was aligning his cock with your entrance. His hands gripped your hips, positioning himself at your entrance. With one smooth thrust, he filled you, eliciting a moan of pleasure from both of you. He dropped his forehead to your chest, trying to avoid cumming on the spot.

“T, baby.” You could only manage another whine, too focused on the slow drag of his cock, you could feel every hard vein and ridge of it slowly fucking into you.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his voice raw. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting his powerful thrusts with your own. The party boomed outside marrying sounds of the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin and your mutual moans of pleasure behind the closed door. Trent's hands roamed your body, squeezing your boobs, pinching your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through you. He leaned down, his lips capturing one nipple, sucking and biting gently, as his hips continued their relentless pace.

"You're so good f’me baby," he panted between kisses. "Why’d you have to tease me all night. You knew I’d give you this cock tonight” He told you as you arched your back, pushing your tits into his mouth, craving more. 

"I wanted it now though," you managed to say between gasps. “Wanted you to fuck me baby. You were playing with me." You tried to pout but your lips parted when Trent's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he neared his climax. He withdrew his length almost completely before slamming back into you, hitting your sweet spot with each stroke.

"Fuxk, you’re gonna make me cum again," you whispered, your nails digging into his back. His fingers dug into your skin and his head fell back. He tilted his head back up and looked directly into your eyes. Your heart skipped a bit at the attention. 

“Be a good girl right now. Cum f’me. Cum on my cock while everyone is out there. Don't hold back." He told you through a grunt, his hips moving faster, his body slick with sweat. He smoothly slipped his fingers in your mouth again, stopping your words. You sucked on his fingers desperately dragging your tongue around them, split pooling in the corners of your mouth. He moaned at the sensation. He popped them out quickly though. His wet hand racked down the front of you dipping to come play with your clit. You gasped and let out a filthy moan as he started to draw tight circles around it.  Your orgasm built, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you cried out, your body trembling as you came, your walls clenching around his throbbing cock.  “Good girl. Doing so well, baby. Told you I don’t loose” Trent said with a smile pulling across his face having to bite his lip just from the sight of seeing you cum as his cock continued to pump in and out of you. You wanted to yell at him annoyed but you couldn’t, losing felt too good. His fingers stayed playing with your clit for a little as you trembled, starting to overstimulate you.

“Baby, please cum inside me. I need you.” You begged feeling the overstimulation turn into another bout of pleasure that was consuming all your thoughts, your brain turning to mush as he continued to fuck you. You needed him to fill you up. You loved Trent having control of you, letting him fuck you hidden away in this bathroom. Layla’s cautions evaporating. 

“I got you, baby. Cum for me one more time. Cum with me, yeah?” He whispered in your ear. Your pussy dripped around him. You bit your lip, looking at him with desperate doe eyes. Trent could feel the veins running along his cock throbbing. He worked his hips faster, harsher. Both of your pleasure building higher and higher. “Fuck.” Trent finally filled you, his body tensing as he emptied himself inside you, his breath hot against your neck.  As your heart rates slowed, he pulled your body into his tighter. Goosebumps arose on your skin, finally able to notice the cool of the sink counter contrasting to your hot skin. He wrapped his arms around you so tightly. Your sweaty skin sticking together. The temperature in the atmosphere of the room was so humid. Your eyes stayed closed for a little, you were completely saturated with bliss. You could barely breathe but you had never felt better in your life. 

“You okay, baby?” He whispered into your neck. He rested his head down on your shoulder. You took another deep breath before smiling. “Yeah?”  he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. You snuggled into his embrace, feeling his heart pounding against you.

"Shit sorry.” You apologized but Trent shook his head dismissing it. It was so reckless but he wanted this just as bad. “I hope no one heard," you confessed, tracing his jawline with your fingertips, starting to feel reality seep under the door and into the room but not being pungent enough to get your mind out of this blissful state of being in front of  him. Trent's eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

"Nah, we’re okay. We’ll be okay," he promised, his lips ghosting over yours.  "I got you, baby.” He told you. The sincerity in his voice kept the goosebumps raised on your skin. You giggled almost delirious, your heart fluttering with both nerves and joy at what just happened. The world outside the room started to fade back in more and more but the anxiety that came from your conversation with Layla earlier in the night had melted away entirely by the heat of Trent’s proximity.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 8 xx

[taintandviolent]

Regular ; Oz Cobb x Reader

summary: You live in Gotham City and are a waitress at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. Oz is a regular and you've developed quite the crush on him.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 6.4K | older man/younger woman, semi-established history, making out, cockwarming, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering (female receiving, dirty talk, smut with a teensy bit of plot (but not really).

a/n: to the 99.9999% of my followers... I'm so sorry but I am begging you guys to hear me out about him!!!! I thoroughly expect this to flop, but I needed to write it for my own sanity. absolutely massive thank you to @redravenblogs for beta-reading! banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Ah, Tuesday night. 

In Gotham City, every night is a good night for an Italian restaurant. Especially one that’s been in business since 1964 and acquired a hefty lot of aging locals that know the food is good, and a possibly even longer list of trendy, younger foodies that have heard that food is good because of the aging locals. 

There’s also the… criminal side of the patrons. Have a place with delicious food and wine, and Gotham’s elite underground is sure to follow. You’ve seen your fair share of men who look like they’re here to discuss a deal over a good meal, and a number of elected officials with them. You know better than to meddle, though. You just do your job, and hope for a good tip. Usually, you get one. 

Tonight, it’s raining. Heavily. Surprise, surprise. People flock in from the street as an escape from the deluge outside and the restaurant is filling up quickly. Your section is about three quarters of the way full, and you’re busy. You hear the door open again, followed by the momentary rush of the sound of tires on wet pavement outside. You straighten up, throwing your glance in the way of the entrance. 

There he is. A warm smile spreads across your face as you watch him amble in, shaking the rain from his leather coat. Though his appearances aren’t regular, his habits are. He always sits at the same table in your section, towards the back and next to the corner window. Once he figured out it was in an area you attended to, he never sat anywhere else. 

You only know him as Oz, the big sweetheart of a man who comes in and always orders the chicken parmigiana. Says it’s the best in town. After seeing him a few times, and sneakily taking note of his last name, you took it upon yourself to do a little digging and found out that he’s known for running with Falcone’s gang and that he’s also the owner of the elite Iceberg Lounge. You never bring those things up to him in fear of starting a conversation he doesn’t want to finish. It’s really none of your business, anyway. You give him a moment to settle into the booth, but once he does – you’re immediately headed that way. 

“There she is,” he starts with a smile, watching you as you make your way over to the table, pulling your order notebook from your apron pocket. “There’s my girl.” 

A blush hits your cheek – it does every time. From day one, he flirted with you, harmlessly and has continued it ever since. You’re used to patrons being a little flirtatious, but something about the way Oz does it makes your stomach tighten. 

“Buonasera, Oz…” you say, your lips curling into a warm smile. In the year you’ve worked here, you’ve picked up a little Italian, but the appropriate greetings are mandated by management. “How you doin’?” 

“Better now.” 

You smile again and dip your chin to your chest shyly. He’s always so affectionate, so warm. For being a guy who meddles in Gotham’s seedy underbelly, he’s one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met.

“The usual?” 

He nods. “The usual, sweetheart. But gimme’ a side of fettuccine tonight, huh?” 

You scribble the order down, and snap your book shut. “You got it.”

“What time you off tonight, doll?” 

“Same as every night, Oz. In about an hour.”

“They keepin’ you late every night, huh?” 

“Yeah, but a girl’s gotta’ eat.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head and shifts in the booth before looking up at you. “I keep tellin’ ya, I could take care uh ya, baby.”

The running joke, but sometimes you wonder if he’s serious. He always tips you generously, alarmingly so, and it’s always put directly in your hand, as though he doesn’t want anyone else knowing that he takes care of your groceries for the week.

“And I keep sayin’ I couldn’t do that to you.” 

“Ahh–!” He jerks his head to the side, dismissing those words. 

You reach forward to touch his broad shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Let me put your order in, honey. I’ll be right back with your wine.” 

With that, you walk proudly off towards the back, swaying your hips. You can feel Oz’s eyes on you as you go and maybe the way you move is intentional, because you know he’s watching. So, what if it was? Can you really blame a girl for liking the attention?

As you round the corner to the kitchen, you clear your throat and call out to the cooks. Angelo is working tonight, and he’s one of the few guys who knows about your little affinity for Oz. As soon as you pin the ticket, Angelo spins the wheel around, looking at the order. He recognizes it, and gives you a knowing smile. 

“Oh, look who’s back, eh?” 

“Quiet,” you hush, looking back towards the table. You can’t see it from this angle, but you know he’s there, sitting, probably on his phone, or tapping his big knuckles on the wood of the table. 

He looks at the sheet again, noticing the addition, and raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend’s hungry tonight.” 

“Angelo, will you quit it? He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Sugar daddy then, eh?” 

You scoff, giving him the finger before reaching for one of the bottles of wine – Oz’s favorite.

You return to his table with a skip in your step. It’s been about a week since you’ve seen him, and you can’t help the giddiness in your gait. As you bump your plush hip into the corner of the table, Oz grins crookedly at you, his gold teeth glinting in the low lighting of the restaurant. You reach into your apron, pulling out a corkscrew. 

“So, whatcha’ been up to, Oz?” You say, as you twist the prong into the cork. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Ah, y’know… business as usual.”

He usually gives you an answer like that – something that doesn’t reveal too much about what he does. You wonder if he knows that you’ve looked into him. You suddenly furrow your brow at the cork – it’s being stubborn – and quickly situate the bottle between your legs, squeezing it tight between your thighs. This action isn’t lost on Oz, who watches you with a deeply interested grin, watching how your skirt rides up just slightly at the front, not enough to reveal anything aside from some of your creamy soft thigh flesh. Everything you do is done with such innocence, but there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to him, he thinks. After a moment of yanking, the cork finally gives way with a hollow POP and you grip the bottle, bringing it up to the table. You mutter a quiet apology and fill the glass, pulling the bottle back to wipe the edge on your apron.

“Well, it’s good to see you. Always is.” 

Someone calls your name from behind you, and it’s one of the other tables, looking for refills. You offer Oz an apologetic smile, and head in that direction. Sadly, you don’t return until his food is ready.  He’s extra present tonight; your eyes meet every time you look in his direction, giving him a timid smile and going about your tasks, but your heart flutters with an adoration for the older man. You’re attentive too, and go over to his table a million and a half times to ask how the food is, if he needs anything else. 

“Only you, doll.” 

You swat playfully at his shoulder, though the little quip has heat pooling in your core. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about him taking you over the table a handful of times; lustfully imagining what his hips would feel like rutting against your ass as he sunk himself inside of you. You constantly wondered what his cock looked like. He was a big man, and you assumed that rang true for all parts of him – but the hunger to find out was terrible.  

He’s one of the last ones to leave, lingering as long as he can before it’s considered rude. Tonight, something’s different about him, like something is on his mind, something he wants to say. Each time you’re at his table, he looks like he’s about to ask, but never does. Finally, as you return to clear his table, reaching for the empty plates on his table, he downs the rest of his wine and clears his throat. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” he says, pivoting slightly in the booth with some effort. “You uh, you busy after work?” 

“N-no.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You straighten up, holding the stacked plates with one flattened palm.

“Why don’t you come down to the Iceberg Lounge? Unwind a little.”

“Oh, Oz, I’m not much of a clubbing girl.” 

There’s a glimmer of disappointment in those dark eyes of his, but he sets his jaw, and gets to his feet. This puts him in your proximity, and you can feel the heat rolling off his large body. Your stomach aches to lean into him, press yourself into his gut, and lace your arms around his neck.

“Just think ‘bout it.” He reaches in his pocket. 

The tip he gives you tonight almost makes your knees give way. It feels thicker than usual in your left hand and when your fingers close around the bills, you swallow down the protests. You don’t dare count it, not in front of him or anyone else. You’ve stopped telling him no, or that he doesn’t have to, because it’s almost like it offends him. He always hushes you, and acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You tuck it in the pocket of your apron, and swallow hard again. 

He smiles and steps around you. Your eyes are glued to the visual of him leaving, watching him through the windows as he limps down the sidewalk. God, you want him. It’s a lethal hunger, something that claws and rips at your insides. 

Once the restaurant is empty, you and the rest of the crew make quick work of cleaning up and closing up shop. It’s about forty-five minutes later when you’re slipping your arms into the sleeves of your black, wool overcoat and heading through the door. The rain hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s gotten worse. You heave a sigh. You’ve got a walk ahead of you, but it’s something you’re used to. 

“Doll!” 

You stop walking, poised just at the end of the sidewalk. You hoist your bag up on your shoulder and pull your jacket right around your neck, squinting into the rain. 

“Oz? That you?” You take a step in that direction, knowing full well it is. Your casual act is embarrassing to you, but you persist, pretending you’re surprised to see him getting out of his car. It’s a nice one, too… a Maserati. Was he… waiting for you?

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “You ain’t walkin’ home in this, are ya?”

“Just to the station,” You defend. 

“Nah. C’mon.” He limps around the front of his car, rain splattering against his leather coat. “Lemme’ give ya’ a ride.” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Really. The rain is brutal and you’re cold, a chill settling into your bones. You hurry towards the plum-coloured car, your high heels clacking against the wet pavement as you do. Oz opens and holds the door for you, waiting patiently for you to make your way over. You get in the car gracefully, making sure not to flash him, though, you doubt he’d mind if you did. It’s warm inside, the heat is on, and the leather interior has absorbed some of that heat. You snuggle into the seat, watching in the rearview as Oz makes his way back around the car, and for a moment you’re surrounded by nothing but the sound of rain on the roof and the shlick of the wiper blades as they whisk the droplets off the windshield. The driver’s side door opens, and he tucks himself in. Droplets of rain decorate his shoulders, and he smears his hand over his hair. 

“Where to, sweetheart?” He asks, a familiarity in his voice. He’s used to driving people around, but he’d drive you around the whole city if you asked. 

“The complex on the corner of 7th and Onyx…” you say, almost sheepishly. Sure, it’s not the best part of town, but your little apartment is cozy, overlooking the city. You imagine he’s used to much nicer, and is probably silently judging the location. 

“Oz,” you start, looking at the girth of his fingers as they wrap around the steering wheel. Your mind starts to wander, but you quickly reign it in with a hard blink and an inhalation of breath. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, doll. Anything you want.” 

“Were you waiting for me to get off work?”

 “Gotta’ look out for my favorite girl, y’know?” 

It’s an indirect answer, but an answer all the same. You smile to yourself as he eases his foot into the gas pedal, the car moving forward. His right hand departs from the steering wheel to turn on the radio. Frank Sinatra’s crooning voice fills the inside, and for the rest of the drive, you’re silent, occasionally stealing looks at Oz as he drives. He handles the car beautifully, and you wonder if he handles a woman as well. 

Oz is sweet. You know this. Despite his constant heavy flirting at the restaurant, he’s sweet, charming and at times, awkward. Endearingly so. But you aren’t taking pity on him. Your interest in him is purely selfish, driven by your lust for older, dangerous men. You inhale a deep breath and turn your attention to the road. You’re close to home. A few minutes later, he pulls up next to your building and puts the car in park. 

You reposition yourself to face him, shifting your feet underneath you. He’s watching you, those smoldering, dark eyes following your every move. Carefully, you lean over the center console, enough to close in the distance between you two and press your lips against his warm, scarred cheek. His aftershave wafts into your nose, and you take a deep breath of it, remembering it. You think you hear his breath hitching. 

“That’s for the ride, Oz.” 

“Shit, I oughta’ drive you ‘round more often if that’s what it gets me, huh?” 

You hesitate a moment, looking into his eyes. There’s that look again –  like he wants to ask something. You fill the void with another question. 

“Is our chicken parm really the best, or do you just come for me?” 

Oz’s thick brows flick up on his forehead and he lets out a throaty chuckle. “Sweetheart...” 

“Do you come for me?” 

Now he’s really looking at you, squinting at you. Hearing that question repeated has him twitching in his goddamn slacks. He looks out to the rain, then back to you and you’re still staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

“If you only fuckin’ knew,” he chokes out.

“Well.. what if I wanna’ know?” 

“Doll,” he grins and laughs, almost nervously. It’s loveable and you can’t help but smile, your gaze fixated on his scarred mouth as he speaks. You aren’t staring negatively, quite the contrary. Like everything else unusual about him, you find his scars sexy. 

“You don’t gotta’... y’know, do that.”

You smile again, letting your lids close slightly. He thinks you’re doing this because you’re what? Paying him back for all the tips? Treating him like a charity case? Hysterical. If he only knew.

“Answer my question, Oz. What if I wanna’ know?”

He shifts in his seat. Uncomfortable? You can’t tell. 

“Then uh… I ain’t gonna’ deny you that. Find out.”

You lean back over, and instead of kissing his cheek, you tilt your head and go for his mouth, your soft, plush lips pressing against his. He doesn’t respond… not right away, at least. He’s stunned, but also trying not to devour you like some goddamned hungry animal. Finally, his lips twitch to life, pressing back against yours. 

He ain’t used to this. But, fuck, it feels good. 

As his mouth opens, his large hand comes up to the side of your face, holding you where you’re at. The cool chill of the band of his ring is a stark contrast against the warmth of his digits. His fingertips graze the edge of your hairline, massaging gently. The taste of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating, the wine lingering on his breath mingles with his own personal notes. You let an open-mouthed moan fall from your throat, into his, and he reciprocates, moving his body slightly towards you. Your tongue slips along his bottom lip, pausing to nibble at it softly. He groans deep, his eyes rolling back in his head. You’re getting him stiff, worked up and all you’re fuckin’ doin’ is kissin’ him.   

This is getting heavy. You feel your own arousal burning between your legs, a fiery, throbbing heartbeat that gets more incessant the longer his tongue is in your mouth, tasting you. Oz is practically taking you in mouthfuls, and your hand crawls over the center console, just far enough that your fingernails scrape against the fabric of his slacks, over his thigh. A desperate attempt to get closer to him without just straddling him in his front seat. 

A deep rumble of thunder and a crack of lightning pulls you two from each other. You lurch away, panting, and look out through the front windshield. The rain comes down harder, and you can hardly make out the outlines of the buildings in front of you. 

“I should… probably go inside before this gets any worse.”

You aren’t sure if you’re talking about the rain or the mutual arousal. Maybe both. He clears his throat in response; he wants to tell you that you’re a cruel woman, leaving him like this, but with the taste of you still on his tongue, he ain’t about to push his luck and get greedy. He unlocks the doors from the panel on his left. You open the door and get out, dragging your bag with you. You lean back inside, looking at him with dreamy, half-lidded eyes. 

“I’ll see you, Oz. Thanks for the ride.” 

But not the kiss? You cringe at your words. There’s that look again – but this time, you know he wants to ask you if you’re coming down to the Lounge later. You know it, and you’ve already made up your mind. 

Instead, he shrugs with both of his shoulders. “Sure, sweetheart. Any time. I mean that.” 

With butterflies in your stomach, you exit the car, and shut the door, careful not to slam it. You hold your purse above your head as you run to the front door and you hear the roar of Oz’s engine as he speeds off. The second you’re inside, you kick off your heels at the door and hurry to the back of the apartment. You flip the lightswitch, illuminating the modest bedroom. You pull the dress from the back of your closet, half expecting a cloud of dust to come with it.  

Thank god it still fits. 

You catch a cab downtown, which is much less luxurious than your previous ride. It drops you off in front, and the line to get in stretches down the length of the building. You knew it was a popular place, but you hadn’t expected this. The rain, nor the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening, deters these patrons – whatever’s inside must really be something. You pull your dress down your thighs, and walk carefully up onto the sidewalk. Deciding to try your luck with the bouncers, you bypass the line, trying not to look at anyone to your right. If you stand in line, you won’t be inside for hours. 

Two men – identical twins – stand in front of the door.

“Can we help you?” One of them asks, sternly. You don’t take offense, they’re only doing their job. 

“Um…” You blurt out your name, adding, “Oz asked me to come.” 

One of the men speaks into a small mic attached to the lapel of his jacket, covering it with his hand. It’s only a moment before one of them opens the door and the music goes from muffled to booming, vibrating your bones. You mutter a quick thanks, and step inside, feeling like you’ve just cheated the system. The visual that meets you truly overwhelms you at first, and you hesitate. 

It’s a staggeringly massive venue, filled with undulating bodies. The building itself is industrial in nature, all steel and flashing red lights. The dance floor stretches as far as your eyes can see, a literal sea of human beings, all grinding against each other, feeling the music in their veins. You stand, stunned at the start of the crowd, unsure of where to go.

After a moment, you lift your gaze and your eyes meet for the hundredth time that night. Oz stands on the second floor, on almost a catwalk above the crowds. He looks like he did at the restaurant, save for the leather jacket which was replaced by a white suit jacket; he’s wearing the same purple shirt and black slacks. Your shoulders relax, knowing that whatever happens next will be something you remember for the rest of your life.

He doesn’t make it a secret of how he’s checking you out, a devilish sneer on his face. He’s only ever seen you in your waitress outfit, which let it be known, is sexy enough on its own, but this plunging number that gives him a peek at your cleavage, and hugs your hips in ways he could only dream of… He deepens his grin and jerks his head to the side, urging you up. You follow his gaze and clock the staircase to your left. You make a beeline for it, holding the chain of your purse in a fist and climb the steel staircase carefully, until you get to the platform that Oz is standing on. 

“Hi!” You shout over the pulsing music. You’re giddy, like a schoolgirl. It’s embarrassing, really. 

“I gotta’ be honest, doll, I didn’t think I’d see you.” he confesses, leaning into your ear. His voice is rough, but enticing. He pulls back, gauging your reaction. You stare at him for a moment, saying nothing, prolonging the moment and torturing him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes flick down to watch. Something he does a lot, you notice. 

“What?” you ask, leaning into him. “After what happened in the car?” 

When you pull back to look at him, there’s a bemused smile on your face. Confident. Cocky. Like there was an unspoken contest of who would mention it first and you won. He shrugs lightly, huffing out a laugh. You reach for his cheek, palming it softly. Oz keeps his composure, even though inside, he wants to lean into it and whimper like a dog. He’s glad he doesn’t though. 

“I’m the one who kissed you, remember? It’s not like you did anything to offend me, Oz.” you coo.

“I ‘spose not, huh?” 

You nod, slowly, coyly. 

“The chicken parm,” he says suddenly, shrugging with his hands. “It ain’t bad. But I guess you’ve figured out the real reason why I come there, huh?”  

You laugh brightly, looking over the railing at the throngs of people below you, neon red lights washing over them in time with the music. You smile softly, feeling special. It’s not every day that you get private access to an elite club in Gotham City and get to schmooze with the owner. 

“Come upstairs with me.” Feeling like your attention is drifting from him, Oz takes your hand, guiding you in the direction of yet another flight of stairs. Your eyes trail up the steps; they lead to a loft, glass windows on every side. 

You’re stone cold sober, so you can’t blame the alcohol, but the second you’re in his office, above the crowds, above it all, you’re on him like a bear on honey. Your hands smear over his chest, fingers grazing through the hair that peeks out from his open shirt. He smells like cigars and an expensive cologne that you take lungfuls of. 

“You're an eager girl, aren’t ya?” 

“Yeah, Oz… I am.” You reply breathlessly, kissing a path along his bottom lip and chin. 

“How long have you felt this way, huh?” 

You finally pull back, and lick your lips, watching him intently. You knew he was a talker from the restaurant, always chatting. But right now, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. “Uhm…” Your chest heaves visibly, and Oz has to fight to keep his eyes on yours. “The first or second time you came into Bellini…” 

“Ah, c’moooon!” he says, incredulously. 

“No, I’m serious!” You laugh a little, moving your head to try and keep Oz’s gaze. He looks off behind you for a moment, and when he returns his attention to you, his expression is serious.

“Chicks like you don’t go after guys like me –”

You bristle and take his face in your hands. “Chicks like me? What do you know about chicks like me, Oz? You think you’ve got it all figured out, huh?” 

He sidesteps that with another question. “What, you like older guys or somethin’?” 

“They’re better…” You say in between tiny kisses. “They know better. They’re more experienced. Guys my age…” You pause to run a finger along his lip. “They don’t know how to take care of women.”

Oz smiles. It’s a dirty, devious smile, and it sends a pulse to your core. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, and he brings his hand up to the curve of your shoulder. “You want me to take care of ya, baby? Is that what you’re sayin’?” 

You nod. A little too enthusiastically, maybe. 

“It’s a busy club, sweetheart.” He says, almost nonchalantly, as though his slacks aren’t tenting in between both of you. 

But… he has a point. You hum quietly. 

“Later, then? Give me a tour of the club and – “ Your voice trails off because Oz looks like he’s just gotten an idea. He smirks, and his hand grips your hip, pulling you close to his gut. “What?” 

“How’s about you sit on it, huh?” 

Your head turns, gaze heavily resting on the room across the way. You assume it’s for the dancers of the club. Whatever it is – it’s right there. You glance at it nervously, and your expression reads strong, apparently, because Oz chuckles next to you, and brings his hand to your jaw, forcing it back in his direction. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. It’s okay. They ain’t gonna’ know a thing.” 

His hand drops from your jaw to your waist, where his thumb swipes circles over your dress. His hand sweeps around to the back, where your skin is exposed, and begins stroking patterns over the skin, igniting tiny fires wherever he touches. You lean forward, pressing your mouth against his again, hungry for his taste again. After a few minutes, Oz pulls away, ending the foreplay. He turns and ambles to the leather sofa angled in front of the window and you follow, taking slow, careful steps. One foot in front of the other. 

Once he’s seated, you lift your dress just enough to grip the delicately stretchy lace of your panties on either side, and carefully pull them down the curve of your ass. Oz is watching, his brown eyes locked on the tantalizing visual in front of him. You discard them on the sofa cushion, not thinking about where they land. Oz watches though, and his large hand snakes out, fisting them and discreetly tucking them into the pocket of his slacks. If you asked, he would’ve told you that he didn’t want anyone fuckin’ seein’ ‘em. The reality was that his perversions were too loud, and he was going to take a token of this dream he was experiencing.  

Oz reaches down, unlatching his slacks, and pulling the zip down just enough to reach in and pull his aching cock free. As you lower yourself, he lines it up, watching intently. You whimper his name, feeling the cockhead nudge your entrance. 

“Easy, sweetheart, easy. That’s it, nice n’ slow.” He licks his lips. 

At first, you nestle yourself down onto his thick cock gradually. The fat, leaking head pops in first, sending a shockwave through your core. Your breath hitches in your throat, and instead of sliding yourself down his shaft slowly, with a huff, you slam your ass down hard. You’re sitting all the way down on Oz’s wide lap, stuffing the rest of him in. He’s thicker than he is long, but god, it’s everything you thought it would be. He vocalizes, surprised at your determination. You still, letting your walls accommodate the girth of the man beneath you. 

“Hoo, baby...” 

The tiniest little movements have him clenching his jaw, hissing through his teeth. And then… with his hand casually holding onto your hip, Oz starts to rut his hips up into you. It’s just enough to rock your body up and down and move his cock inside you. 

He grunts underneath you, his grasp tightening on the satin of your dress. He craves skin, and his hand slides into the space between your dress and your back. You can’t help but let out the tiniest of whimpers at the feeling of being so full – you don’t remember the last time you were stretched like that. Your dress pools, hanging heavy between your legs and concealing your leaking core. 

Abruptly, the collective sound of high heels approaches, and your eyes snap up to the glass windows. A group of girls crowds the room parallel, and the second one of them spots you two, they’re heading your way. Oz stops moving. 

“Alright… quiet, doll.” He slaps your hip a few times. It’s a warning, and one you immediately heed, straightening up, tucking your hips into a more natural sitting position. His cock twitches inside you, and you swallow back the noise that bubbles up your throat. 

“Ozzy,” the girls coo in unison. One of them has a martini in her hand and asks who you are. God, they’re all so beautiful, you think. Insecurity threatens, but the stretching between your legs calms it.

Leaning to the side to meet their gaze, he tells them your name, proudly – the bastard – and you wave, sheepishly, trying not to allude to the fact that Oz’s girthy cock is buried inside you. Maybe they know. Maybe he’s done this before. You swallow hard, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“We was just havin’ a meeting. She’s thinkin’ of workin’ here.” A bold faced lie, but it distracts the women from looking too hard at the scene in front of them. They all titter excitedly, delighted by the prospect of having another friend to play with.  

“Oz takes real good care of us,” one of them chimes in, earnestly. “You’d love it here.” 

You clench around his cock as hard as you can, your internal muscles squeezing him in a vice. You smile as naturally as you can at the girls as Oz continues speaking casually. The man’s poker face must be insane because he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t give away a single thing. 

“Alright, alright. Girls, what am I payin’ ya for, huh? Get down there.” 

In a flurry of nods and apologies, the women disperse, heading back down to the throbbing club below them. The sound of their high heels clicking down the stairs fades away, replaced by the dull, muffled thrumming of the music below. As soon as you two are alone again, Oz bucks his hips up into you hard, almost painfully, pulling a low groan from your throat.

“Tell me how good that feels, sweetheart. Tell me.” The roughness of his voice, the harshness of his accent makes everything sound intense, but the desperation in which he asks that isn’t lost on you. He’s practically begging you to tell him, revealing a deep-rooted hunger for praise. You wet your throat, and lean your head back onto his shoulder, bringing your hand up around to the back of his wide neck; the flesh is warm and damp with sweat.

“It feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Y-yeah…” You close your eyes, wincing slightly at the way his cock bullies you and stretches you open. “So good, Oz. I’ve thought about this… so many times.”

His hips rut up into you, finding a hungry, incessant rhythm and your slick walls clench around him. The action brings a choking grunt from his mouth, and your ego swells with the control. An idea blossoms. You straighten up; setting your hips and grinding them back and forth on his lap. Beneath you, Oz moans, his grip on you tightening. You feel his large body shudder, and a cocky smile curls its way around your lips. 

“You like that, Oz? You like me fucking you like that?” 

He nods, breathlessly, reaching up to palm the sweat that drips into his brow. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, arching your body against his. 

“I l-like the way you’re fuckin’ me. It feels real fuckin’ good… ” He grumbles, pleased. “Feelin’ that tight pussy uh yours… like heaven, doll.” 

You whine at that, loving the way it sounds coming from his mouth. Your hips gyrate, continuing their ruthless pattern on his cock. His hand strays from your hip and juts between your legs, finding your cunt. His thick fingers slip between your folds, stroking you just enough to drive your orgasm closer to the edge. You whimper, tossing your head back. 

Oz’s gaze drops from your back to your ass, watching as the flesh swells when you push back against him. God damn. It’s a perfect fuckin’ view, and he sucks in a deep breath. Every muscle in his body tightens, even if he ain’t ready for that.  

“Aw, fuck–” he grunts, low. Deep in his stomach, his muscles clench, trying hard to stave off the oncoming orgasm. His eyes open, focusing on the ceiling, the sound of the music, anything except for the way you’re ridin’ him. It ain’t workin’, because he feels his whole body tense up. Fuck. 

His hand goes slack between your legs and you grit your teeth, bringing your brows together in a pained expression. The dual stimulation was nice, but the way his cock massages your walls, stretching them out and filling you in a way that has you gasping is enough to drive you mad. You’re thankful that the music is so loud beneath you, because your desperate mewls and whines are getting higher and higher in pitch. Oz mutters something, something filthy about filling you and you drive your hips back against him. And with that, he loses it. He thrusts his hips up into you a few times, with a frenzied sort of desperation. You feel the heat painting your insides, coating your walls in his ecstasy. Underneath you, Oz’s thrusts have turned languid and lazy. He’s silently justifying the too-quick orgasm with the fact that he had to; anyone could’ve walked in at any time. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’s been like a slobbering dog for you for months. 

Chest heaving, your hips continue rutting back and forth, and Oz shifts underneath you, still panting heavily. It’s tender, but he doesn’t complain. His thrusts continue to slow and you desperately reach between your legs, tapping his hand back to life. “D-don’t stop Oz, please… don’t stop…” 

Behind you, Oz chuckles under his breath and straightens up, having sunk back into the sofa a little too far when he lost it. His thick index finger strokes your clit upwards, and a shiver rips through your body. The coil in your stomach winds tighter as you settle into the oncoming feeling. Still full of him, your slick walls shudder around his cock as the first wave hits. The coil snaps, your thighs clamp shut around his hand, and you look down, sighing loud as he continues flicking between your folds. One of your hands is situated on his thigh, and the other comes to grip his wrist, feeling the cuban link chain beneath your palm.

“That’s it, sweetheart… that’s it…” As you ride it out, bucking your hips against his groin, he coaxes you through your orgasm, both vocally and with the way he massages your clit, the pad of his index finger pressing into it. You can hear the pride in his voice, it’s absolutely dripping with it. “Atta’ girl. Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out. You furiously nod your head as your legs begin to tremble. He doesn’t stop, and your immediate reaction is to dig your nails into the flesh of his hand, silently begging. 

“You good, doll?” 

“Y-yeah. I’m… wow.” 

Oz removes his hand from between your legs, and strokes the side of your thigh, gently. Tenderly. For a moment, you stay like that, just enjoying all of the post-coital sensations. Eventually, you get to your feet, curious about how the patrons downstairs are faring. Speaking of dripping… You swallow hard, and press your thighs together. 

While still in front of Oz, you straighten yourself out, pulling your dress back down over your hips. Now, you’re suddenly aware of the throbbing beat beneath your feet and make your way over to the window. 

“How about that tour?” You ask, running a nail along the glass that overlooks the dancefloor below you. After a few moments, you feel Oz’s presence behind you, his stomach pressing into the curve of your back. 

“I thought you weren’t a clubbin’ girl…” he murmurs throatily, in between kisses to your neck. You tilt your head, allowing more space for him to smother. 

“Well,” you confess, honesty tinging your voice. “I’m not. But it’s not every day you get invited to the most elite nightclub in Gotham City.” You shrug. “Might as well.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Cute When You're Jealous

SUMMARY: Glen misses out on an event the two of you had planned to go to together. So a friend takes you instead, but it leaves Glen feeling a little jealous.

PAIRING: Glen Powell x Reader

A/N: Thanks to the Anon who sent this request in! I tried to do something a little different with it and make Glen the jealous one instead of the reader. I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "You're really cute when you're jealous."

WARNINGS/TAGS: None. Just Fluff.

WORD COUNT: 850

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The two of you are stretched out across Glen’s couch, perfectly tangled together after the few days he was away. One of your legs is draped comfortably over his thigh, and you’re curled into his side, with your arm resting across his stomach. He’s got one arm wrapped firmly around your waist, his other hand resting over your forearm. His fingers are tracing light, soothing patterns up and down your skin—a touch that feels both intimate and grounding.

You smile up at him as you begin telling him about the Jurassic Park screening, the one he had wanted to take you to. He’s watching you closely at first, but as you start talking about the details of the night, his fingers gradually stop moving. He’s silent as you describe the T-Rex scene, his hand stilled against your arm, and you notice he’s not looking at you anymore. Instead, his gaze is fixed somewhere down near his feet, and the usual ease in his expression has gone quiet.

“Glen?” you ask softly, studying him. You can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, the subtle way his arm around you has stiffened just a bit. “Is something wrong?”

He blinks, glancing up at you with a sheepish, almost-too-casual smile. “Hmm? No, no, I’m good,” he says, brushing it off with a chuckle. But there’s a hint of something else in his tone, a little edge of restraint.

You tilt your head, giving him a look that says you’re not buying it for a second. “Okay, try that again. Because I know you, babe. Something’s definitely up.”

He tries to wave it away, running a hand through his hair, but he can’t fully hide the reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“It’s really not a big deal. I just, uh…” He lets out a breath, finally looking back down at you. “I guess I just hate the idea of missing out on things with you. I was the one who planned that night, you know? And here I am, getting scooped up to New York, and then someone else gets to be there with you instead.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and you give him a reassuring squeeze, your fingers brushing gently over his ribs. 

“So you’re saying you’re jealous,” you tease, your voice light, though your heart aches a little for him.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes like the very idea is absurd. “Jealous? Of what? That you spent a night quoting some dinosaur movie with Joe? Hardly.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to hold back a smile as you reach up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.  “Uh-huh. So, no jealousy at all?” you press gently, catching his gaze and not letting him squirm away this time. 

He shifts under your gaze, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. 

“Maybe just a little,” he admits, reluctantly, his voice barely above a murmur. “Not in a jealous-jealous way. I trust you, and you know Joe and I get along great. I just… I don’t know. It feels weird when someone else gets that time with you, especially when I want to be the one there with you.”

“You’re really cute when you’re jealous,” you murmur, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He groans playfully, rolling his eyes even as his smile betrays him. 

“Oh, stop it. I am not cute right now,” he insists, though his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer.

But you shake your head, grinning up at him. 

“Nope, you are. And anyway, it’s not the same without you,” you say, laying your head back on his chest. “I had fun, but trust me, I’d take a cozy movie night with you any day over some big theater experience with anyone else.”

His expression softens, and he shifts his hand up to brush his fingers through your hair. 

“You mean that?” he asks, his voice carrying a vulnerable edge you don’t often hear.

You nod, meeting his gaze. “Absolutely. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than right here with you. How about we make up for it and watch Jurassic Park together?”

His face lights up, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, letting it linger. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm, his earlier hesitation melting away. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, though the grin tugging at his mouth tells you he’s already in.

“Positive. Besides,” you say, snuggling closer to him, “I’m counting on you to give me the full experience, T-Rex roars and all.”

With a chuckle, he reaches for the remote and turns on the movie. His hand returns to your arm, gently running his fingers along it again as the opening credits start to play. 

He presses another kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “Best movie night ever.”

And as the familiar music fills the room, you can feel the last of his tension ease away, leaving just the two of you, tangled up and exactly where you want to be.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Remina.

Yan Blade x GN (Mara-Struck) (Stellaron Hunter) Reader.

Synopsis: You know Yingxing, but you know Blade more and more with each passing day.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, descriptions of violence (not against the reader), mentions of Blade/the reader's want to die, and descriptions of the reader’s want for violence.

Word Count: 1k.

@knockout2483 here you go!! <33333

*~*~*~*

SELF-DESTRUCT FUNCTION UNAUTHORIZED.

TO CANCEL, PLEASE CLICK THE ESCAPE KEY.

PROCEEDING WILL CAUSE 24.25 MILLION UHLUHTC SPIDER SPAWN TO SPREAD FROM SECTOR SEVEN TO SECTORS ONE THROUGH ELEVEN, BUT NOT SECTORS ZERO, TWELVE, AND THIRTEEN.

TO PROCEED, PLEASE CLICK THESE KEYS IN THE FOLLOWING ORDER: FIVE, TWO, SIX-

*~*~*~*

Blade knows you went too far with this.

You know too – at least he thinks so; your mara-struck state has always been harder for Kafka to subdue.

“What a nuisance.” You spit out as you drag your sword back and forth across the thing blocking you from destroying the tower’s controller beyond repair. Blade’s hand. His palm is bright red and makes gut-wrenching noises yet he does not move or make a sound. “You never let me do things my way.”

“Please don’t speak to me like that.” He responds as his uninjured hand pulls layer after layer of the bandages that prevent his blood from pouring all across the concrete floor. “You don’t want to do this. At least to them. To us, even.”

You have now lost a majority of your once silver weapon – Blade’s hand regenerated just enough for you to be rendered powerless. Or at the very least powerless compared to him and the other Stellaron Hunters.

*~*~*~*

TO CANCEL, PLEASE CLICK THE ESCAPE KEY.

*~*~*~*

“The hell are you talking about, Yingxing?”

“Do you really want to watch this world burn again?” You let go of your handle, wincing like you just touched something straight out of a forge. Hell maybe – that would be more entertaining right now rather than being sat down and lectured again by someone who more or less shares the same ailments as you. A craving for bloodshed. A need for chaos to be unleashed upon an undeservedly orderly land. A body that will never die no matter how much the soul has eroded.

A desperate want to die.

All of them are uncontrollable though you are undecided about the last – self-inflicted death can be perceived as a sin, not a sacrifice for the greater good, in most of the planets you have been an unwelcome guest to.

Kraftluv II. A planet the perfect distance away from both Jarilo-VI and the Xianzhou Luofu – wedged in between them in exactly equal amounts according to countless mathematical studies.

You’re forbidden to enter the latter of the two per Kafka’s orders. Firefly told you that if you do all your assignments before the next meeting – the ‘assignments’ in question being gathering gifts for Silver Wolf because you accidentally broke one of her game consoles – you could be allowed to go fishing with her.

Firefly doesn’t know how to fish. Even if she did, you would much rather use your teeth instead of some lousy string attached to a carved tree branch.

*~*~*~*

TO CANCEL, PLEASE CLICK THE ESCAPE KEY.

*~*~*~*

“What I’m saying is,” Blade puts his arm to his side. Blood still rolls down from the edge of your sword and this time makes a small puddle just in front of his dirty shoes. “You’re supposed to be on good behavior. Even if you and I don’t get scolded, you’ll come to regret it after you return from lunacy. Me too.”

You don’t look at him, instead opting to stand up on your toes to get a better look at the machine you want to tear to pieces so badly.

Blade in turn moves his head to a diagonal so he can at least try to get you to focus on him. You murmur more curses under your breath than usual. He sighs but doesn’t attempt to correct your language this time. In the past, Kafka would giggle and pat your head as she dodged you using your nails to scratch her numerous times. Silver Wolf wouldn’t bat an eye because her connection to her games is more important than anything going on around her or beyond the stars she could see. Firefly would have her mouth wide open in shock at the sheer complexity of the Xianzhou Luofu’s lexicon when it comes to swearing. 

“Do you want to hurt all these people again? It hasn’t even been a year since you unleashed Silver Wolf’s virus onto Sector Eight. Without her permission, may I add.” In a smooth motion, Blade pulls your weapon out from his body – in a mere blink of an eye, a scar replaces the rather large crevice. The bandages are applied once again. He didn’t have to peel them off to begin with but he wanted you to see another example of what he is supposed to do to keep you in line.

*~*~*~*

TO PROCEED, PLEASE CLICK THESE KEYS IN THE FOLLOWING ORDER: FIVE, TWO, SIX, FOUR, SIX, ONE, THREE, FIVE, EIGHT, NINE, ZERO, ZERO, SIX. 

TO CANCEL, PLEASE CLICK THE ESCAPE KEY.

TO CANCEL, PLEASE CLICK THE ESCAPE KEY.

TO CANCEL, PLEASE CLICK THE ESCAPE KEY.

TO CANCEL, PLEASE CLICK THE ESCAPE KEY.

*~*~*~*

“Alright.” You answer after a while. He still keeps your blade above his head to prevent you from doing anything brash. “I’ll cancel it.” 

The light in your eyes starts to fade back into normalcy. The moon rises above the tower – a merciful gift to reward your teammate for putting up with your uncontrollable behavior. Blade makes a note to bring multiple blindfolds next time for when you two are in similarly sunny worlds.

“Can we go get dessert though?”

For once, Blade chuckles at the awkward timing. You always have a way to cheer him up somehow, not that you ever notice it.

“Sure,” He answers. “On me this time?”

“No… I’ll pay.”

“As you wish.”

[viasdreams]

Nightwalker ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ~ what if i chugged a thing of toilet bowl cleaner

you stared intently at the bottle of everclear as you, sloppily, attempted to pour another shot for you and hyuck. three shots in and you were starting to really regret your choice of vodka. you thought that maybe it would be strong enough to get hyuck drunk, but apparently, 95% abv means nothing to vampires.

"why do you keep taking these with me if they don't do shit?" you asked as you handed him his shot.

"because i'd feel bad if you had to endure this poison yourself" hyuck chucked from across the bed.

the space between you felt as expansive as a canyon, the distance seeming to only grow with each shot.

"wait that's so sweet of you," you smiled at him, raising your shot to cheers him.

he hmmed in acknowledgment, bringing the glass to his lips and shooting the shot with ease. meanwhile, you gagged into your chaser. (which was water because, as hyuck put it, you don't really go to the grocery store to buy drinks when your food comes from the cashier)

as the night continued, so did the shots. six shots in and the car crashes were starting to hurt your head.

"hyuckie can we please turn this off, i feel like one of the victims right now" you slurred out.

"shit, yeah of course," he ran his hands across the sheets for the remote, eventually figuring out that he had been sitting on it.

"do you want more water? or i could doordash you some food?"

you slowly shook your head, closing your eyes.

"no, i think i just need to lie down"

"yeah do whatever you need, i have more blankets in the-"

his sentence was cut off as you crawled over to him, laying your head in his lap. maybe everclear actually was a good choice because you never would have done that if you were sober.

"um yn?" hyuck awkwardly mumbled.

"hmm?" you peeked open one eye, looking up at him.

"the pillow is over there" he gestured to the headboard.

thankfully, the vodka didn't fully cloud your judgment and you were able to clock the nervousness in his tone.

"oh sorry hyuck, i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." you started to sit up when you felt two hands push you back down.

confused you looked at him to gauge what was happening, but he refused to meet your gaze, looking at the ceiling.

"no it's ok you can," he slowly brought his eyes to your, "you can stay there."

a smile spread across your face as you relaxed into him.

the two of you stayed like this for a while, hyuck gently playing with your hair as you lay. just as he was about to lay down too, you quickly sat up with a gasp.

"HOLY SHIT!" you exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking.

"what? what happened?" hyuck questioned you, his voice coated in concern.

"SUCK MY BLOOD!"

"w-" he stared at you, very much taken aback, "what?"

"SUCK MY BLOOD HYUCKIE!" you shook him with more vigor.

hyuck grabbed your hands, bringing them in front of you to keep you still.

"why are you asking me to do that yn?"

"the alcohol in my blood hyuck! it will get you crunk!" now shaking his hands in excitement.

when laying in hyuck's lap, the fact that he couldn't be drunk with you consumed your thoughts. you wanted him to experience what you were feeling, and that's when it dawned on you.

"yn im not going to hurt you like that just to get a little tipsy. plus i don't even know if it works like that."

"then let's try." you pulled your shirt to the side exposing your neck fully.

hyuck could feel two things, his fangs coming in, and the intense hunger bubbling in his stomach. it had been a bit since he had eaten, and that combined with the fact that you're the one offering him blood, created a deadly combo for him.

"i don't want to hurt you though," despite his words, he slowly leaned towards you. "what if i take too much?"

"i know you won't, i trust you hyuckie," and despite your words, you scrunched your eyes shut, scared to be awake while this was happening.

your sent overtook his senses, drawing him in.

you could feel his breath getting closer, his hands cupping your face.

you attempted to tilt your head to the side to give him better access, but he held you in place.

both of you knew that your heart was racing. you did your best to calm yourself but to no avail.

"just breathe okay?" he whispered onto your skin.

"o-"

before you could finish, you felt hyuck's lips on yours.

the kiss was soft, you could feel him trying not to press his fangs against you. he didn't move, just held his lips against yours, waiting for you to react.

you, rather clumsily, pushed back against him. his lips were cold and you desperately wanted to warm them up.

however, he pulled back before you could, laughing as he brought his forehead to yours.

"why did you do that?" you asked, the reality of what just happened hitting you.

"i told you, i don't drink human blood." he leaned back onto his palms, shrugging. "i appreciate the offer though, ill have to ask the guys if drinking drunk people's blood works. if so, i might give a chicken a bloody mark because hyuckie needs a drink."

"but why did you stop kissing me?" you asked, half because you really wanted him to do it again, and half because you were scared he thought you were a bad kisser.

he glanced over at the half-drained handle of everclear, "i don't think right now is the best time to be doing that."

"but," you protested.

"i'll kiss you again in the morning when you're sober yeah? i want to make sure you actually remember it."

you could feel your cheeks heat up. why was he so smooth? this was not the same loser (said lovingly) from the bookstore, not that you were complaining.

"yeah okay."

he patted your thigh and headed to the door. "im going to sleep on the couch. the bathroom is down the hall to the left, if you don't make it to the toilet, please puke on jaemin's stuff. wake me up if you need anything."

"hyuck wait!" you practically yelled at him as he left the room.

"what's up?"

"goodnight."

you could barely make out his smile in the dark.

"goodnight yn."

you in fact, did not make it to the toilet. now you were walking aimlessly through the hallway, looking for anything to clean off the vomit-coated hairbrush you were holding, which you really hoped belonged to jaemin.

"yn?"

you jumped, almost dropping the hairbrush.

"is that my hairbrush?"

thank god you puked on the right one.

"oh hey jaemin, why are you up so early?" you tried to direct the attention away from the brush.

"im just going for a run, you don't look this good at 418 years old by sitting on your bum." he shook his butt a little at that last part.

"bum?"

"i spent some time in england, picked it up."

"cool, well i dont want to keep you from your run, so bye." you picked up the brush and rushed back to the bathroom.

"yn wait, can i say something?" his tone reeked of remorse.

against your better judgment, you agreed. after what hyuck told you, weren't the biggest fan of jaemin but you did puke on his stuff. the least you could do was hear him out.

he took in an excessively long breath.

"look, im really sorry. im sorry for lying to you, for hurting you, and for just being an asshole. i have a lot of issues i'm dealing with right now, but i shouldn't have brought you into that. i was so focused on getting your blood for hyuck, that i forgot to think of you. you didn't deserve that. i'm really sorry."

he said all of that in one breath, making it extremely hard to keep up with his words.

"wait jaemin, you were getting my blood for hyuck?"

"yeah he asked me to help curve his cravings for your blood, but nothing was working so i started taking from you."

"so he was drinking my blood? when you took my blood, he was the one drinking it?"

jaemin gave you a confused expression.

"yeah? did he not tell you that?"

he did not.

previous ~ masterlist ~ next

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[msmk11]

From @franfineashell

I looooove BFM, it was every bit of satisfying !!!! Would you be open to an epilogue or y/n finally seeing Wanda for the first time during a break or a surprise visit??

&

From @xenaizogie

Hey mk! I have a request for best friend's mom... Can you write yn surprising Wanda with a visit, yn wants to take her on a date to the movies but they are so excited to see each other again they may not even make it out of the house all weekend... Spicy fluff please 🙃

————————-

Best Friend’s Mom-One shot

- Series Masterlist -

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

WC: 1.3k

CW: Hint of smut/allusions to smut; age-gap (legal and consensual)

A/n: Thank you both for requesting and being so patient with me! I combined your requests because they were so similar :) Hope you enjoy!!

It’s been nearly a month since you and Wanda got together, and it’s been the most wonderful month ever. Well, at least as wonderful as long distance can be. With your one month anniversary coming up, as well as the fact that you desperately miss your girlfriend, you decided that you were going to surprise Wanda with a weekend-long visit.

The drive to her’s feels painfully slow, and you’re a bursting ball of energy by the time you pull up to her house. You park on the street and hope that the roaring engine didn’t alert her to anything suspicious. You sneak up the driveway and inhale deeply as you stand on the front porch, hyping yourself up to knock.

You rap the door with your knuckles thrice and lean back on your heels, anxiously awaiting for Wanda to appear.

The door clicks unlocked and your heart jumps to your throat at the sight of the redhead.

“Hello I- Detka?!”

A huge grin spreads across your face, “surprise!”

Wanda laughs, surprise evident in her voice and she steps onto the porch, pulling you into her arms and peppering kisses all over your face.

Giggles bubble up and you feel heat rush to your cheeks at all her lovely affection.

“What are you doing here, baby?”

“I wanted to surprise you and visit for the weekend, I hope that’s okay?”

“Detka that’s more than alright,” she says softly, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips.

You hum happily against her lips and grip her hips tightly.

Though you’re eager for more she pulls away, “wouldn’t want to scandalize the neighbors. Let’s go get your stuff and take this inside.”

Reluctantly you agree and follow her to your car to grab your backpack and travel bag. She takes both before you can protest so trail you beside her like an eager puppy.

As soon as the door shuts, shielding you from the outside world, Wanda is back on you, pressing you up against the door.

“Missed you so much Detka,” she groans, sliding her hand under your shirt eagerly.

Her touch sends a shiver up your spine and you wrap your fingers through her belt loops gently, tugging her closer to you, “Been thinking about you constantly, Wands.”

She trails kisses down your neck and a happy sigh escapes you.

Wanda places a gentle kiss to your lips again and pulls away, “As much as I’d love to take you right now, I wanna see you first, Detka…to really appreciate that you’re actually here, in my house, just you and I.”

“Why don’t you give me a tour?” you suggest gently, “I’ve never actually been here before, you know.”

“A grand tour you shall receive then.”

The redhead slips her hand into yours and grabs your bags with the other. She pulls you up the stairs, briefly giving you a glimpse into Billy and Tommy’s rooms before walking down the hallway to what you assume is her room.

“Well, here we are, the guest room. You can settle in.”

You freeze and look at her with a slight smirk.

“What?”

“You’re gonna shove me in the guest room? What am I? Your mother?”

She raises an eyebrow at you playfully, “I was just trying to be respectful and give you your own space. I also didn’t want you to think I was just sharing a room with you to use your body.”

The playful glint in her eyes and the spread of her pink lips as she smiles makes your heart leap, “Oh please, sweetheart. Use me for my body. I won’t be offended.”

You don’t have to repeat yourself, Wanda quickly dragging you down the hall to her room and well… Using you.

*****

Emerald green is the only color you see as you stare into your girlfriend’s eyes intently. You could get lost in them forever- the sensation not far different from wandering aimlessly through a lush, green forest. Wanda traces her finger gently over your bare hip as she holds your gaze just as intensely, her stare a mixture of fading lust and something more.

She wraps her leg over you, pulling you closer to her body so that your noses are touching.

“Hi,” you say softly.

The redhead smirks and chuckles softly, “hi Detka.”

“You know I really need to pee,” you murmur.

“Why don’t you?”

“Cause I don’t want to leave your arms…And also because I’m not sure I could walk.”

You admit the last part much quieter, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You should’ve just said something baby. I could’ve carried you.”

Wanda’s teasing you, you know that, but you also see a little bit of sincerity in her eyes and it makes your stomach erupt in butterflies. You think she’s just about the sweetest person you’ve ever known and you feel so grateful to be the recipient of even just a shred of the love she has to give.

Your eyes trail over her smug face, “I don’t think I can give you the satisfaction…”

She squeezes your hip tightly as her eyes darken, “You know, Detka, you still seem a little too coherent and capable for my taste. I don’t think I did a good enough job if you think you have even a chance of getting up and walking.”

“Wands-”

The breathless murmur escapes as she leans in, leaving a bruising nip to your jaw. Her hot hands begin to dance across your skin and your body reacts severely, still sensitive from before.

“Baby-“ she moans gently, sucking at one spot on your neck.

You buck her hips into yours, “Wanda, I need you.”

“Shhhh, I got you Detka,” your girlfriend whispers hoarsely. She flips you two over so that she’s hovering above you, just barely out of reach.

“Sweetheart I-“

Wanda slots her thigh between yours, providing relief before pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

*****

When you finally collapse in exhaustion on top of Wanda you’re sweaty, limp, and dazed- the only movement your chest rising and falling as you pant heavily.

Your girlfriend places a gentle kiss on your shoulder, this touch much much gentler than just a few moments ago. You nuzzle into her neck and she wraps her arms around your waist, her skin on yours comforting and warm.

“This is much better baby,” she mumbles into your hair as she kisses your head. “Can I carry you to the bathroom now?”

An incoherent whine is your only response and she chuckles, “come on sweetheart, we gotta clean up.”

You cling more tightly to her and she chuckles as she shuffles up, pulling you with her. She does, in fact, carry you to the bathroom and deposit you onto the toilet while she runs a hot shower for the both of you. As steam fills the air you slowly come-to more. You lovingly examine Wanda as she preps for you both, fondness oozing from your chest.

Your phone buzzes softly on the counter and you pick it up, checking your notifications.

A soft gasp escapes you.

“What’s wrong, Detka?” The redhead asks, concern in her tone.

“We missed our dinner reservation.”

She looks at you, confused, “Our dinner reservation?”

“Yeah, I booked us a spot at this nice place I read about. But we should’ve been there…now.”

Wanda approaches you and crouches down, “I’m sorry baby. I didn’t know I-”

You cut her off by kissing her deeply, “My love, I’m not mad.” Your eyes trail over her body momentarily, “Seriously. It’s no harm no foul, so long as I get to spend time with you.”

“I’ll still make it up to you,” she says with a gentle smile.

And over the course of the weekend, she does.

——————————————————————————

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[too-much-tma-stuff]

The Start of the Future (Part 26)

Previous | Masterpost

The ring of rage made it possible for Danny to open portals to the Infinite Realms on his own, which would at least make commuting back and forth much easier. While they were at the Watchtower Danny had raided the equipment that had been liberated from the GIW bases and, after his panic attack, he found a suit of ectoplasmic armour that he could update and upgrade for Jason. Sure he was already liminal but Danny would rather be safe than sorry with the amount of concentrated ecto he’d be exposed to in the Infinite Realms. It was pretty easy to tinker with, improve the blasters and repaint it to match Jason’s colour pallet, once it was slimmed down a little as well and given a better finish Danny had to say it looked cool as hell. 

Once it was done and Jason had some experience wearing it and operating the weapons, they were as ready as they were ever going to be to face the mountain of paperwork that was inevitably waiting for Danny. It was easiest to leave from the Batcave, leaving Jason’s motorbike there before Danny transformed back into Phantom. With one last check on Jason’s armour Phantom ripped a hole through space and time to get to his new castle. As he stepped through onto the dark cobblestones he felt a shiver run down his spine. God this place was so deeply infused by Pariah’s malice it was going to take him a long time to shape the haunt to his will instead of its previous master. 

Danny was not pleased to see that half the council and the Observants were waiting for him, as was Fright Knight. Just great. The portal closed and Fright Knight stepped forward, and Danny stepped back, Jason slid between the two of them glaring at Fright Knight through his visor. Fright paused looking annoyed, but after it became clear Jason wasn’t going to move and Danny wasn’t going to come forward again Fright elected to ignore Jason and just focus on Danny past Jason. 

“My King,” Fright Knight bowed to Danny. “I want you to know that my vow to the crown still holds. I will serve you however you order, I will be your knight.”

“No you will not,” Danny said calmly but firmly, ignoring the look of hurt and fear in Fright’s eyes. “I will not revoke your title, and you may continue to serve the crown, but I will be knighting Red Hood. He will be my knight, not a knight of the crown,” He said with a sneer. “For now you can serve me by making sure news of my rule is properly spread. Make sure they know, and know that things will be changing and do it without threats. Understand?”

“Yes my King,” Fright said, though he still didn’t seem pleased he wouldn’t disobey an order. He got up and shot a glare at Jason before flying off to do a task Danny hoped would keep him busy for a good long while given the Realms were Infinite and all. 

Once he was gone Danny turned back towards the rest of his ‘welcoming party’, He sighed and forced his shoulders to relax. “So, show me to the work that needs to be done,” He said, more confidently than he felt.

“Oh there will be plenty of time for that,” Clockwork said wryly, leaning heavily on his staff. 

“There’s a royal wedding to plan!” Frostbite butted in, excited and eager as ever, trigger near identical startled sounds from Jason and Danny. 

“Are you sure? We were planning on waiting and getting married in the mortal world first. I’m sure there’s a ton of stuff to do before…” He trailed off because Pandora was shaking her head. 

She held out one set of hands, the other still clasped behind her back; “A royal wedding is exactly what we need. It had been a long time since the Realms had a king, and much longer still since anything to do with a king could be called a joyous occasion. Not counting when the council managed to bind Pariah Dark.

“A royal wedding will bring everyone together so they can see you, while ensuring the expectation is that they be happy for you, and bring gifts. Since the coronation was immediate, and took place in the human world, this is the best opportunity for you to meet the other governing bodies within the Realms, and to set their expectations of you.” 

“I do not want my wedding to be a political affair,” Danny said coldly, drawing himself up to his full height, which still wasn’t very impressive at all in the face of Pandora and Frostbite. He was taller than Clockwork now at least. He relaxed just slightly when Jason rested a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“You can still have the wedding you want in the human world, the ceremony here won’t be binding there. And you can have whatever guests you want as well as the political ones, the guest list will be hundreds long as is, and we’ll make sure spaces for family are reserved right at the front,” Frostbite assured, placatingly. 

Danny took a deep breath and shook his head before turning back towards Jason. “What do you think?” He asked, taking one of Jason’s hands, he couldn’t quite lace their fingers together with the size of Jason’s gloves so this would have to do. 

Jason shrugged; “I told you I’m happy to get to marry you multiple times, This isn’t the way we planned it sure, but this can be a dress rehearsal basically, and I gotta admit I’m curious as fuck about what sort of gifts ghosts will give their king. I think Robin and Phantasm will have a blast with it too. Ohhh you should invite Constantine! Seeing him scramble to get a gift would be hilarious!”

Danny couldn’t help but smile at Jason, glad he wasn’t taking this seriously as he might have, and could see the humour in it. “Alright,” Danny agreed fondly, leaning forward to kiss his helmet over Jason’s cheek. “How do ghostly weddings even work?” He asked, turning back towards his new council. 

Clockwork smiled approvingly and Frostbite downright cheered, Jason and Danny were shepherded into a council room where planning began. For the most part Danny and Jason let the planning take place around them rather than actually taking part in it.  They put in their input here and there, colour choices, food, making sure things were human-safe options for the few guests Danny and Jason wanted to bring. The councilors were the ones who knew who in the Realms needed to be invited, mostly kings and chiefs of various sections of the realms who were too used to ruling without oversight. 

When it seemed like all the personal touches were finished Danny placed his palms on the table and stood up, smiling around the table without much feeling. “Is the guest list all you’ll be discussing now?” He asked calmly.

“Well, yes but-” Pandora started but Danny held up his hand and shook his head. 

“I don’t care who you invite other than my family. Send me a list of who you decide to invite and what I need to know. I’m going to have a look around the rest of the keep to see what else I’ve inherited from that bastard, other than a complete mess.” Danny dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Did Pariah Dark have an office?”

There was a moment of silence, the rest of the council glancing around at one another, everyone clearly expecting someone else to have an answer. “He must have had an office right?” Frostbite questioned. 

“I’m sure that he did,” Pandora agreed, nodding firmly. “He wasn’t always mad, he did his duty at some point.”

“Great,” Danny sighed, pushing himself back from the table and standing up. “Well, maybe we’ll find his office while we’re exploring and if not I’ll choose a new room to be my office. I should start remaking this place to suit me anyway, I don’t want anyone you bring to the wedding to think that I’m in any way like him after all, I should start reshaping this place.”

“Very well,” Clockwork sighed and turned back towards the table, launching back into discussions about the guest list. After that would be discussion of seating arrangements. Danny fully expected this to take days. Even if they insisted this needed to be done quickly, all of the people discussing it were ancient and immortal, to them tomorrow still meant next month. Of course thanks to the time dilation in the living world they would still get around to the wedding before Danny and Jason could, unless they wanted a Vegas wedding, which he didn’t. Although… No, he wouldn’t compromise the wedding that they had dreamed for this. 

Danny slipped out of the room with Jason on his heels to explore with him. Danny paused to take Jason’s hand again so they could walk together down the broad, dimly lit haul. Danny grimaced and glared at one of the torches. “Okay to start with we can get some more fucking light in here, and maybe a rug,” He grumbled, closing his eyes and focusing on the ecto around him. It was resistant to his touch, he wasn’t the mind that it was used to responding to and it didn’t want to listen to him. But this was his haunt now, he was the master of this space now and it would answer to him. 

The world beyond Danny’s eyelids brightened slightly and Jason gasped softly. Danny opened his eyes and gave a self satisfied smile when he saw the torches were brighter and a slightly warmer shade of green and there was now a very grand rug stretching off down the long hall. “Good, that’s better. Let’s get going.”

“How did you do that?” Jason asked curiously. 

“Oh right, you’ve never been to the Ghost Zone before! The entire place is made of ectoplasm, that means it responds to emotion and will. Not all of it I mean, every ghost has a haunt and the ecto in their haunt responds to them, everyone’s haunt is specially tailored to them. Actually… because when I died I didn’t come to the Realms naturally, I’m not sure I had a haunt here before I defeated Pariah and took his. I’d better make the most of it huh? I’m going to manifest an observatory!” Danny exclaimed, excitement getting the better of him for a moment. And why not? It was about time this place felt a little bit of joy. 

Jason laughed and Danny grinned at him, tugging him along after him. “Come on, we should find a bedroom for the two of us as well and make that ours. We’ll be spending some nights here while I set everything up, or at least I will. I’ll figure out how to make it safe for you so you can have a comfortable place here too while you’re still living.”

“I love how ominous you are,” Jason said with genuine warmth, making Danny laugh again. They continued on with a bounce in their step and the energy of giddy children exploring an ancient mansion, and they found plenty of hidden rooms and hallways to justify that excitement. Though whether they’d been there before or if the ecto was manifesting them because Danny expected them to be there was anyone’s guess. 

They carried on that way until they found a potential bedroom that, with a little editing, would work for the both of them. Danny could will a lot of the ecto in the room to be inert, or absent, but it took a lot of concentration and it wasn’t perfect. He was going to have to invent something, a miniature ghost shield maybe? Either way it would be safe for one night and Jason was tired.

Danny lay with him until he was asleep, but in his ghost form and in a place of infinite ambiently metabolizable ecto he didn’t need to sleep much and he wasn’t tired. He slipped out of bed again and left a note for Jason in case he woke up while Danny was gone. Then he continued exploring, looking specifically for the office now because with Jason asleep he had nothing better to do then get a start on the work right?

Unfortunately he did find the office, which was dusty as fuck somehow despite no one here shedding skin cells. There were piles upon piles of papers here, the stacks had probably started on the desk, but when they got too tall work had started to pile up on the floor. As Pariah lost interest in the actual work people must have continued to just drop paperwork here in the hopes he might get around to some of it… eventually. They had probably only stopped once Pariah had been bound in the coffin, and then enough time passed for everyone to forget this office even existed. 

Danny sighed and settled into work, starting with the dustiest piles because those were the oldest. Most of the papers that didn’t disintegrate as soon as he picked them up were probably not valid anymore and the ones that were were probably long overdue and increasingly desperate. He incinerated ones that said they needed things on a time limit, thousands of years expired the need had probably passed one way or another, and if not they could re-submit the request to him this time. The ones that seemed like they might still need help he set aside to ask Pandora or Clockwork about when he got the chance. 

The task became meditative; pick up a paper, scan it for dates, then set it aside or incinerate it. The small amount of ecto in each of the papers giving him a little boost as they disintegrated. It gave him the time and the brain space to pay attention to his new haunt, expanding his mind to start the process of properly melding with his new haunt. It was resistant to his will for now, and he didn’t feel like forcing it, he wasn’t going to be that kind of king after all. For now it was enough to let it get used to his presence, like sharing space with a neglected cat.

At least by the morning it was responsive enough to tell him that Jason was up. Danny sighed and got up, stretching with a groan. He had gotten through about a quarter of the accumulated paperwork, not reading it or anything, just sorting out that maybe he should read it later. But still the room looked much less crowded and dusty so he was going to call that a pretty good start! He shut the door after him and concentrated for a moment to alter the door, making it more distinctive and easier to find for the future before he rushed off the say good morning to Jason, and open a portal out of the zone so they could at least get some breakfast.

Jason met him at the door and hugged Danny tightly, scooping him up as Danny yelped then laughed, wrapping his arms around Jason’s shoulder in return. “Put me down,” He laughed, not really meaning it so Jason held him for a minute longer before putting him down and kissing him sweetly enough Danny started purring instantly. 

“Let’s go to the courthouse,” Jason announced, soft and breathless once he put Danny down. 

“What?” Danny asked, shocked, but when Jason looked chagrined and started to pull away Danny hugged him tighter and pulled him back in. “No no! I’m not opposed to it, I’m just surprised!”

“I know. And I’m really not upset about the ghost wedding thing, I meant that! And I don’t want us to rush before having our big wedding. But that’s going to include a ton of heroes right? So it’s kinda a masked wedding, and I want us to be married before we’re politically married you know? Let's pick up our siblings, maybe Bruce, and go to a courthouse. I’ll buy you a bouquet, and Bruce can pay for the fanciest fucking dinner of our lives as an afterparty…” He trailed off as Danny laughed and pulled Jason in for another kiss.

“Add Roy to the list of people we’re picking up and absolutely! I think we have to call ahead to make an appointment though. And I have a little more to do here, can I drop you off at home to call the courthouse and get those flowers? I’ll finish up here and come join you as soon as I can?” He asked hopefully.

“You got it Moonlight,” Jason agreed easily. 

“You’re the best, Boss,” Danny teased laughingly and Jason rolled his eyes. 

“Keep that nickname for the bedroom now Cub,” Jason replied, pushing Danny away for just a  moment before pulling him back in as Danny purred.

“Tonight?” He suggested hopefully. 

“Tonight,” Jason agreed and they kissed one more time before Danny ripped open a portal for Jason to head home with both of their tasks assigned. 

Danny threw himself back into work, doing what he could do. He dismissed the souls that Pariah owned, and set the ones that wouldn’t or couldn’t leave to cleaning the castle with strict orders to take regular breaks if they’re tired, and maybe try a couple hobbies as long as it doesn’t bother anyone else. That’s the best he can do for now. It’s going to be slow going until everyone he loves can join him in this world, and this time they actually will. None of them will be killed with ecto weapons which simultaneously destroy bodies and souls, he will never have to lose this family like he did his last one, no one will. 

He arrived home while Jason was halfway through making dinner, and got to hear about Jason’s day. He cooked and told Danny excitedly how he had called the courthouse and managed to get an appointment for the afternoon after next, and he’d called their family and everyone would be able to come! Including Dan who hadn’t gone so far that Ellie couldn’t catch up to him and ask him to come back for the wedding. Jason laughed as he told Danny Dan had been relieved to hear there was going to be a smaller wedding so he’d have an excuse not to attend the bigger ones later! 

Their home was warm and cozy, their safe nest just the two of them and any stress Danny had been feeling melted away. He couldn’t wait to eat, he couldn’t wait to spend the night with Jason, he couldn’t wait to get married in a couple of days! There was so much to look forward to, so much in a life, an eternity, of people that he loved. He couldn’t say he didn’t regret what had happened to his first family. But with Pariah gone, the GIW on the run, and Jason at his side Danny could say he was finally, and unequivocally, happy.

[hayatoseyepatch]

HELLO ALL MY LOVELIES!! I am officially back with some new content coming soon that I’m super excited about (but that’s for another time it’s a secret). BUT I recently hit 1000 followers here on tumblr and I wanted to celebrate ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

First off I want to say a huge huge thank you to all of you for being here like that wasnt even a number I thought I’d ever see on this blog and I love you all so much (ˊ̥̥̥̥̥ ³ ˋ̥̥̥̥̥)♡

Enough of the SAP THOUGH onto the event! I wanted to hold a little holiday themed moodboard event to celebrate you and your selfships! These can include OCs, self-inserts, poly ships, all is welcome!

So the gist of this little event is please send me an ask with your selfship following the criteria below and I will create a cute holiday themed moodboard for you and your f/o! Off and on anon is fine. Please provide a picrew or self/oc description to aid in making your moodboard as well as answering the questions and reviewing the rules below. ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭♡︎

Thank you again and I so look forward to this fun time, the world is pretty gloomy and scary rn so I’m gonna be your Samta’s elf (hehe) spreading some holiday cheer!

➼ Tell me a bit about your selfship. You can include as little or as much detail as possible (also because I just love hearing about all of your ships). This will help put a little personal touch to each moodboard!

➼ What is you and your f/o’s favorite part of the holiday season?

➼ Are there any traditions you and your f/o have that you do every year? Any holiday themed dates you’re looking forward to?

➼ Preferences: Are there any specific colors you want/don’t want? Any parts of the holidays you like don’t like? Would you prefer a winter theme if you don’t celebrate? Any preferences you have!

➼ Please provide a picrew (if you have one), selfship art, or a description of you/your oc so I can make these as accurate as possible!

RULES:

➼ As always this is an 18+ only blog, please even if submitting on anon make sure we’re all 18+.

➼ The fandoms I’ll be including in this to choose from are Windbreaker, JJK, Demon Slayer, Tokyo Revengers, Blue Lock, Haikyuu, and Love & Deepspace.

➼ Please be kind, if you don’t like it let’s not be hateful about it this is all in good fun!

➼ Also please be patient, I do work full time and will get to these as soon as possible just bear with me please. (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

I’m going to run this event for the rest of the month so deadline to submit a request is by December 1st! Thank you all again so much for 1000 and I hope you enjoy this little token of my appreciation. ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა♡

Banner and dividers by lil ol’ me ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა