#that does NOT make him stupid or anything like that

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

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summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial. 

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive. 

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in. 

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?” 

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres. 

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard. 

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer. 

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless. 

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before. 

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved. 

Up. 

Barely. 

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin. 

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire. 

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too. 

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

��Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job. 

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

[moonstruckme]

Mae I have a lil request idea! Can I please get any of the boys with a gf whose inexperienced and she's super stressed about having sex (I just started being open to the idea of dating but I haven't been with anyone in 3+ years and I'm scared/nervous about sex now like what if they hate my body?? Or I suck??)

Thank you for requesting angel <3

cw: smut mdni, body insecurities, reader isn’t a virgin necessarily but is inexperienced

James Potter x afab!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re trying very hard not to think. To get swept up like you’ve heard you’re supposed to, and in fairness James is doing a very fine job of sweeping you. He’s all strong hands and wet mouth moving over the slopes of your face, your neck, your sides. He’s got your shirt off on one side to expose your shoulder, and you think it’s only a matter of time before the rest follows.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles. It’s believable when he sounds like this, almost drunk, like he can’t lift his lips from you for one second to get it out right.

You burrow your fingers in the curls at the back of his head and try to let yourself be swept. Your body reacts in all the right ways. You gasp, you arch, you throb. You feel the muscles of James’ back, let the friction of his knee between your thighs send electric frissions coursing through you. You relish the warmth of every point of contact and tell yourself that all is going perfectly.

It’s not enough. When James undoes your trousers and his fingers brush the fabric of your underwear, your head is all alarm bells.

You try to enjoy yourself through their wailing. It feels nice, the way he’s touching you. But oh god, what if he cares that you didn’t shave? Do adult men want a bare vagina? Or what if James wouldn’t like it bare, but what you have is too much for him? Is there a universally agreed upon pubic hair length you don’t know about?

The rest of your body is a whole other thing. James calls you beautiful, but he hasn’t seen all of you. What if he takes your clothes off and he doesn’t think so anymore? You know he’d never say anything cruel, but he’s still human, he can think it.

You don’t know what you’re doing. There are so many ways this could go wrong. Even if he’s fine with your body, you could still be too boring or try too hard or be too loud or too quiet or not move right. You could break his dick. There’s no way he’ll want to see you again after that. Not even James could be that forgiving. What if you mess all this up because of one stupid night?

Your heart pounds to the beat of what-if, louder and more insistent until you can’t take it.

“James.” You set a hand on his chest.

He makes a low sound, misinterpreting your hesitance as encouragement. His lips part over your shoulder, fingers teasing the elastic of your underwear. Your breath seizes.

“James.” You push a little this time. James takes the hint immediately, pulling back to look at you.

“Hm?” He blinks. You know his vision must be fuzzy, his glasses on the nightstand, but whatever he can see of your face makes his brows pull in and up in the middle of his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t shave,” you say.

James’ expression relaxes. For a second he looks like he might laugh at you, but presumably your obvious distress keeps him from it. “Okay,” he says, moving his hand a couple inches up from your underwear to run it over your stomach soothingly. “That’s fine, love, I don’t care. I’m a grown-up, I don’t need you to pretend you don’t grow hair.”

This comforts you, but only some.

“I just feel like I need to give you some disclaimers.”

Now James does laugh. It’s just a little one, soft, the way sunlight dapples through the shade of a tree canopy. “You don’t need to disclaim anything.” He kisses you, curved lips against your frowny ones. “But lay it on me, if you want to.”

“I just…” He keeps kissing you, and you speak in between. “Your pasta was really good, but I’m sort of bloated now.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“I also don’t have any, like, moves.”

It’s almost a giggle, the thing that vibrates against your lips. “Moves?”

“Yeah. I’m not exactly well versed in all this. I feel like I’m going to fuck it up.”

“Sweetheart.” James says it all warm and heavy, the sort of tone that usually portends him squishing your face in his hands. This time, he only kisses the tip of your nose with sticky fondness. “If you’re nervous, we don’t have to keep going, but none of these are things you need to worry about.”

You touch his wrist, stopping his hand rubbing your stomach. It sits patiently just below your navel.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say, earnest in the way James always manages to draw out of you. “I need a manual. What’s my job?”

“I promise you won’t need a manual,” he says, kissing you again. “Lovely, your only job is to feel good.”

You frown. “That seems sexist.”

“What?” He laughs. “It’s not sexist.”

“It’s not? You have a job and I don’t. Feels sexist to me.”

“I just told you, your job is to feel good. And it’s not sexist.” James’ mouth moves down to your neck. “It’s a beginner’s pass.”

You swallow as he finds a favored spot below your ear. “I just get that this once, then?”

James pauses for a moment. “Well, there’s also the I’m-in-love-with-you pass.”

“Oh?” Your voice is turning breathy. “What’s that one mean?”

“It means you get to do whatever you want, sweetheart.” He kisses that same spot over and over until you think you’ll go mad. “I’ll love it no matter what, because I love you.”

You give in with a soft whimpering sound. James hugs you close like he means to comfort you, and you take your trousers the rest of the way off yourself.

There are no holds barred after that. You let James put his hands or his mouth wherever he likes, and each time he checks in that something is okay you barely have the air to tell him yes. It feels different than you were expecting, different than anyone else in your history or imaginings, hot but gentle and good in a way that transcends what you thought the word to mean before.

James does get your clothes off, eventually, but you’re not alone in that regard. Being vulnerable with him feels more privileged than frightening then. You can’t believe you ever worried that these hands would find fault in you. You’ve never wanted anyone to touch you so badly as you want James to.

“I love you,” you murmur, against his chest, his cheek, into the hollow of his throat.

James says it back a dozen times. When he calls you beautiful, you know he means it.

[verdancy-hime]

It's trying to kill her.

She's trying to kill herself instead.

Her alarm clock says "It's not a fashion statement, it's a deathwish."

The first time you met her, she was yelling at the cars in the road to get her to hit her to buy her a computer. Or was it that she was wearing all different colors of lipgloss around her neck and coming out of a tunnel full of bats and thinking "I am suddenly certain that the best years of my life are all behind me. I am going to kill myself one day." And you thought "that's a weird thing for a second grader to be thinking. Girls usually aren't that depressed until they have tits."

One of them keeps talking about how she moved on and she's healthy now.

The other has been saying over and over that she tries not to think about it because she knows they'll lock her up one day. She knows they made her wrong on purpose. She knows they have been trying to fix her but she won't fix. There's always some battle of wits and will and they all accuse her of being greedy but she always wins and always wonders why they didn't try bribery when bribery always works. She is lying on a floor at a party among a group of beautiful girls and you don't know why you are listening to her say this instead of them. This keeps happening. You will find her next to a girl with a perfect face for this moment, the girl will lick your shoulder blade. You wind up having a conversation about some book you never read and how you would like it based on this movie you mentioned. The other girl crawls into your lap. She walks over to your friend and starts asking him questions. You buy the book the next day. It sits on the shelf for three years after the girl with the face and the lips and the... other assets is gone. There are other girls in the meantime. You don't read it but you don't throw it away. One night you are in a new place and nothing is unpacked and you can't sleep and you can't even look at any more liquor after the last three weeks and here is this book. And on the first page when you open it up, you are reintroduced to yourself that year back then. And you know which girl is the girl who is telling the truth about who she is because she dies in the book. Unmistakably, she dies. And it's not even the end of the story. It's not the point of it. It's like here you are on the night you met and she dies and here you are going through all these miseries that hadn't happened yet when the book was written. And here you are on the next page of your own life.

You know it was her because she wants to. She talks about wanting everything, how to do anything. How to get away with it. How to make ugly things beautiful and evil things good and stupid things smart. but the one thing that never changes is that she stares into a cup or a light for too long, she writes a story, she tells you about things she's done-

You go to admire her for her bravery or what she's done. She can lie and say what she's supposed to say- yes, I know , I'm great. Or she says "people think I'm brave but really I just already have to live with the things they're afraid of. I'm not afraid of losing the things they have because I don't have them. And If I get stuck, I always think 'I'll just kill myself if this doesn't work."

You know it's her because she keeps getting into cars with boys because she thinks maybe one will murder her. And when she realizes they want to take her home and keep her, she stops doing that and starts asking them why they don't love their empty houses. And when she gets urged to make a wish, everyone offers her things she wants but the only wish she will take is "I wish I was dead." And the only way to talk her out of it is to say someone else will also die. And one day, you turn on your TV and it has a girl and it's not her face and it's not her name and it's not her voice speaking in her register and she dies and says everyone else will live if she does it. And one day you, even you, turn on the car radio and here's a song about her sung by someone who looks like her and sounds like her and you don't remember the story about how she read a book about a vampire hunter with a harem and said she didn't like it because the girl always is smug and mean about other women's makeup but a girl named after a legend in Arthurian myth put it in her face when she went out into the snow and walked around screaming for hours when she fell asleep next to a girl her friends tried to set her up with at a party after finding out she was too young and wrapping her in a blanket and talking to her a while. The cute hacker girl with the knee socks she bought her who begged to be turned into a girl and rescued from her parents who wanted to be a boy was giggling with another teenage girl that if you drink rum and diet coke it tastes just like skittles. Neither one of them were wearing any clothes. She went outside and screamed and screamed and screamed and after that night she couldn't sing anymore. Before that she got compliments. Sometimes. So she went inside and this girl named after a boy who went insane and died as a tree after he drank some potion and fell in love with the king's girl handed her a book so she would have something to do other than throw up from crying. Her father used to yell at her for crying so hard it made her sick. She still does it. Singing or no singing, her lungs still do that. Too big for the rest of her. She tells you the only thing she remembered was "you don't give somebody to the monsters." And the rest was just bullshit. And she tells you that she doesn't want anyone else to die when she dies.

And she tells you that she used to talk to this person. One she made up.

So you know it's worse than the time where she lost her singing voice when one day you see her saying there was this cult that she thinks tricks people into exorcising their own souls, they say it's mindfulness and they used to say it was demons they cast out. But what happens if you have too many souls? What then? She says she beat them but they killed her cat, but now her cat brings the souls back. She says now they want to kill her, but that's okay. Because no one else will die with her.

You know the other her is fake because it's immortal, but it writes songs about how it doesn't want to die. Maybe she might develop jealousy or pettiness or insecurity or rage or grief or anything else. She would never give up her death.

But you turn on the television, you go to read a book

And all the monsters aren't monsters, they're just people she used to know.

"What's that even supposed to mean, 'It's not her'? If it looks like her, talks like her, acts like her, thinks like her, thinks it IS her, who's to say that it is NOT her?"

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Beyond Misconceptions

summary: joaquin is usually the poster child for positivity, but sometimes the doubt creeps in.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

contents: angst, jealous/insecure!joaquin, arguing, depictions of anxiety

wc: 1,675

an: based on this requested concept! it went a bit different than expected but i hope yall still enjoy <3 (and also hope it will hold yall over until vuelve pt. v is done!!!)

danny ramirez characters masterlist

Most of the time, Joaquin loves his job. He loves the brother he’s found in Sam, the tangible way he sees himself helping people day in and day out. The feeling of soaring through the sky, the invincibility that he seems to find in the wind.

But, what Joaquin doesn’t love about the job is the rift that it can sometimes create between you. One could say he’s being dramatic by using the word rift— you have never once complained, never made him feel guilty for the unpredictability of his schedule.

You always tell him that you know what you signed up for when you fell in love with him. And you do.

Joaquin is certainly grateful for your love and understanding, but it’s days like today that make him want to find some 9-5 to nurse.

When he steps into the party you two were meant to attend together an hour and a half late, he’s eager to see you. That eagerness twists into something ugly when he sees you. You, standing in a group, but primarily talking to some guy he doesn’t recognize.

You look…happy. Happy to be talking with a guy who showed up on time. With a guy who doesn’t put his life on the line, and your relationship on hold at the drop of a hat.

He can’t decide what he wants to do more— leave and let you be happy or put himself between you and this mystery guy.

As if you can feel him, you glance over in his direction, lighting up at the sight of him. That restless mix of jealousy and guilt fades a little with you so excited to see him.

“Quino,” You call to him, waving him over. When he makes it to you, you reach for his hand immediately, drawing him so that you can place a kiss on his cheek. “Made in one piece, I see, cariño.”

“Siempre lo hago,” he murmurs, snaking an arm around your waist. “So who’s this?”

You introduce Joaquin to the guy easily, slipping him into the conversation without missing a beat. Paul. Joaquin nods along, lets you pull him closer, listens as you chat, and laughs like nothing is wrong. Like he wasn’t late. Like you weren’t having a perfectly good time without him.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He does. It’s just that tonight feels like a reminder of everything he isn’t—someone who shows up on time, someone whose job doesn’t put you second. And maybe it’s stupid, maybe it doesn’t matter, but it still twists something sharp in his chest.

His grip tightens just slightly on your waist. You glance up at him, brows furrowing in quiet question, but he just shakes his head, forcing a small smile. You don’t push, but something in your gaze lingers. You know him too well. You always do.

You’re driving the two of you home, music spilling softly out of the speaker when you decide to break the tension that’s been building.

“So what was that?”

“What was what?”

“You were being…possessive?” The word comes out of your mouth like a question because you’re not entirely sure. Nothing like this has ever happened with Joaquin— it’s unfamiliar territory.

“Claro que no,” he insists.

You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes. “Yeah, because that wasn’t defensive at all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your eyes flicker over at him momentarily, and you soften at his visible tension. You’re gentler when you speak again, “Soy yo, Quino. We don’t lie to each other, we don’t do this… jealous thing that you did tonight. I don’t know that guy, I probably won’t ever see him again and I’m fine with that.”

“It wasn’t about that.”

“Oh, but it was about something? What could I have possibly done when I hadn’t seen you in days?”

“Querida— you didn’t do anything— it’s not… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You purse your lips, feeling a little frustrated. “I want you to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. And if you can’t now, then think about it and we’ll talk about it before bed. Deal?”

The silence stretches between you, the music sounding much louder in the wake of your breaths.

Eventually, Joaquin says begrudgingly, “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?”

“You,” He says softly, and nothing more.

—

Once you and Joaquin get home, you don’t push. You refuse to when he’s being so elusive, so guarded in a way he’s never been. You aren’t really sure what to do with it and it makes your stomach churn. You make your way straight to the shower without so much of a glance in his direction.

Joaquin wants to call after you, but can’t find his voice. Not a surprise when he feels his mind is completely scrambled.

All of this has tilted you off your axis. You make sure the water is scalding hot, hoping that the steam will steep out your thoughts of insecurity and unease. By the time you make it out, it just feels like they’ve grown louder, rooting deeper into your brain stem.

You make your way into the kitchen, walking past Joaquin where he’s sat on the couch. He watches you quietly as you make tea, unsure if you still want to talk or if he’s created the catalyst for his worst fear; losing you.

“So are we gonna talk about it or are you gonna keep staring at me?”

“Mi amor—“

You huff as you sit the chair across from him, “No, don’t mi amor me when you won’t even tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s not that I won’t, it’s that—“

“If you say you can’t, Joaquin, te juro por Dios.”

“I was gonna say that I’m struggling to figure out how. There’s too much up here, you know that. Usually, it’s just cheery.”

“I’m not asking you to be cheery, I’m asking you to be honest.”

Joaquin sighs, leaning forward to place his face in his hands. “When I saw you with him, I just— it made me wonder if you deserve better than me.”

Your brow furrows. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re in a relationship with a man you’re going to outlive. I’m never home, I’m always late as hell. Every day I force you to wait— for me or for a call that’ll break your heart. Don’t you think you deserve somebody that can be there for you? Someone, you aren’t afraid of losing every damn day?”

“I knew what I was getting into when I chose to start this with you. I know that you want to be around and be more consistent, but Quino, you’re out there saving the world. I can’t ask you to put down your dreams because you missed the first hour of a party.”

“I‘ve missed more than just an hour of a party. What happens when it’s our wedding? Or if you get sick? What if you need me and I miss something big? That guy, he could give you that.”

You lean forward, reaching across the coffee table to place your hand over his. “Then we’ll reschedule. Or my parents will take care of me. Or I’ll need you and I’ll be really sad that you’re not there but eventually, you will be. I don’t give a fuck about that guy. I don’t even remember his name. What I do remember, is how much I love you and how long it took me to have the courage to tell you that.”

Joaquin looks down at your hands before interlacing your fingers together. Your words soothe him even as he wrestles with the fact that he wants to give you more. He’ll try to give you more— you deserve it and so does the health of your relationship.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you?” you challenge, wanting him to truly think about it.

There are things about your relationship with Joaquin that are less than ideal and certainly compromise but that’s part of love. Compromising and making things work with the people that you love. Joaquin is loyal, loving, and tender; he always makes you laugh and takes your feelings seriously. He just happens to be a superhero, one you have to share with the world.

How selfish would it be to take him away from people that need him?

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, “I’m sure. ¿Me dirás si algo cambia?”

“Lo prometo.”

Joaquin leans back into the couch, patting his lap, “Ven.”

You quickly make your way to sit in his lap, wrapping both your arms around his neck as you let your legs dangle across the couch.

“Te amo, princesa.”

“I know, I love you too,” you murmur, running a hand affectionately through his hair.

Joaquin’s eyes fall to your lips, and when he finally leans in, his mouth brushes yours softly, a quiet promise that everything will be okay. His thumb traces your cheek, and it feels like all the unsaid words are finally spoken in the wax and wane of this gentle kiss. You close your eyes, grounding yourself in the feeling of him, of home. As he pulls back slightly, his forehead rests against yours, his breath shaky, and you both linger there, knowing that in this moment, everything is enough.

After several moments of silence, Joaquin’s lips find your ear, “Paul.”

You lean away from where you’d gotten comfortable on his chest to look at him quizzically. “What?”

“The guy’s name— fucking Paul.”

You laugh, shaking the both of you. “I’ve already forgotten again. I’m more focused on this marriage you’ve mentioned.”

“I’m thinking under the cherry blossoms.”

“You should think about the blow your bank account is gonna take getting me a ring.”

Joaquin raises a brow at you, “Who says I don’t already have it, hermosa?”

You squint at him— usually, you’re pretty good at telling if he’s bluffing but his features are smoothed into the perfect poker face. “You lying?”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out, baby.”

lmk if you'd like to be on the sfw (or nsfw for 18+) joaquin taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @moonymeloncholymoney

[starlit-writer]

i am Poorly™️ and now my brain (what functioning bits are left from this MIGRAINE) can’t stop thinking about the boys of tf141 reacting to reader unconscious in medbay after an op.

capt. john price - silent guard dog. obviously, as the captain of the taskforce, he doesn’t get the luxury of dropping everything right off the helo to run to your side, no matter how much he wants to. but, he is restless and short-tempered as he rushes through the post-op debriefs, snapping at anyone or anything who wastes his time or gets in his way. but once he’s in medbay, your unconscious body finally in his sights, the violent, rough edges of his agitation soften. the protective streak of the captain is no less sharp, however, as the older man keeps a watchful eye on everything as his hands run through his mutton chops, mustache, hair, over his clothes, anything to distract him from the fact that you’re hurt. he won’t touch you - doesn’t quite trust himself to not break down and beg for your beautiful eyes and warm smile to grace his presence again if he does. no, he stands vigil in the room, watching over you and protecting you until he hears you start to wake. then, your beloved captain gets down on his knees beside your bed, his face pressed into your hand that lays on the sterile, scratchy white sheets as he mutters kiss-littered reassurances into your skin as his hands brush softly over your hips and stomach in a gentle, comforting manner. if there’s one thing that breaks his stoic, mountain man exterior, it’s you.

lt. simon “ghost” riley - the other side of the captain’s coin. where do you think he learned it from? where the captain attempts to keep some semblance of composure, simon is incapable of the same. he’s all bristled hackles and barking commands as he jumps off the helo before it even fully touches down, ignoring the protesting ache in his joints as he sprints towards the med bay just to get to you as quickly as he can. he’s tormented, replaying the last moments before you were injured in his mind. he’s angry; at the enemy, at the injury, at the world, at you. he has half a mind to throttle you himself as soon as he bursts through the medbay door, to scream at you until he’s hoarse about how stupid you were to get yourself injured. but that anger is a thin shell covering the aching fear of losing you, and as soon as you’re in his sights, he is at your side, his hand finding yours. he runs his thumb over the back of your hand as his other hand comes up to brush a loose lock of your blood-matted hair out of your face. it doesn’t quite quell the anger bubbling through his veins, but you’re still alive. where the captain keeps a silent vigil, simon is right by your side. he pulls a chair as close to the bed as he possibly can, keeping a watchful, terrifying eye on anyone and everything that comes into the room. but, when he’s alone with you, his demeanor falters; whatever thoughts crossing his mind spilling from his shaking lips as his touch brushes over every part of you that he can reach. he’s a complicated man with a very poor grasp on his own emotions and reactions, but you are the only thing that keeps him grounded, and he can’t lose you.

sgt. john “soap” mctavish - johnny isn’t angry. no, he knows his emotions well enough to call it what it is: he’s terrified. much like simon, he rushes off the helo, but unlike both his lieutenant and his captain, he doesn’t even glance at anyone else. his mind is laser focused on getting to you, completely avoiding and ignoring everything that is between you and him. however, as he gets closer and closer to the medbay, the terror builds. restless, panicked energy floods his veins, his adrenaline shooting through the roof. what if it’s worse than he was told? what if this is it? does he really want his last memories of you to be the sight of you hooked up to god knows how many machines? he’s in touch with his emotions, certainly much more than the rest of his team, but that also makes it that much easier for him to start spiraling to the worst case scenario, especially when it comes to you. he’s caught between the desire to rush to your side and the panic freezing his momentum, resulting in him pacing outside of your room, his fingers alternating between tugging at the longer strands of his mohawk and at the elastic of the com mic around his throat. and that’s how he stays, stuck in this perpetual loop that is slowly ripping him apart. it’s not until he hears that your awake that he finally peeks in, stepping in slowly as to not frighten you. however, once your gaze meets his, all bets are off. he rushes to your side, his hands grabbing onto you as he presses his forehead against yours as tightly as he can. muttered apologies for not being here for you fall past his lips between the kisses he presses gently to your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead, your chin, as his hands gently run across your sides. the apologies quickly turn into reassurances, but he doesn’t leave your side. he stays standing over you, covering you with his touch and his soft kisses. if there’s one thing he believes in more than the golden cross that hangs next to his dog tags, it’s you.

sgt. kyle “gaz” garrick - he’s better at compartmentalizing than the rest - has to be, after everything that he has done and seen. he keeps a tight lid on his emotions through the entire helo ride back to base, the vacant stare into nothing ahead of him and the way his knee bounces ever so slightly the only signs that anything is wrong. where the rest of the boys are basically foaming at the mouth when their bird is injured, kyle knows that he can’t. that’s not to say that he doesn’t care about you - doesn’t love you - he just knows that if he gives into the fear, it will be impossible for him to pick himself back up. and he needs to be strong for you, for his team. he feels like the entire world rests on his shoulders, and if he falters, even for you, everything will crumble around him. he goes through the post-op motions robotically. anything anyone says to him is met with a monosyllabic reply. it’s only after he’s finished his duties that he’ll find himself in med bay. he pulls a chair to the side of your bed, one of his hands wrapping around yours as his other comes up to his mouth. he has a horrid habit of biting at his cuticles when his emotions are high, and, well, you’re not here to slap his hand away. he holds onto you, his thumb running over the ridges on the back of your hand as he mutters prayers to whatever could possibly be listening to bring you back to him. he is much more outwardly relaxed than simon or johnny, but inwardly, his mind is racing with the same terror. and when you finally wake, his soft voice is there, coaxing you back as his touch brushes gently over your cheek. while he feels like the fate of the entire world rests on his shoulders, that weight feels a lot more manageable when he remembers that you are his world.

(lol oops this turned into so much more writing than i was planning but whatever. i love playing angst barbies with these boys and exploring the differences and similarities between them. as always, i hope you enjoy, and i would love to hear what you think! thank you thank you thank you for all the support mwah mwah)

[sebystann]

Blush

cw — none

summary — Rafe loves to make you blush.

authors note — It's trashy writing, but we all have had a crush who made us blush at some point.

wc — 440

His eyes. His smile. His voice. His cute laughter. His cute, tall height. His gentle, rough, calloused hands. Everything about him is just too cute and handsome.

Everything about him makes you blush like a full-on tomato red-faced and neck kind of blush. It's the kind of blush that everyone in the room notices, and Rafe loves it. He loved every moment of you being frustrated with him. "Look at her, she's so red!" Topper laughs, patting Rafe on the shoulder. "It's cute." He laughs, poking your right cheek. You swat his hand away, frowning. Your face heated up even more when Rafe wrapped his strong arms around your waist. "I love how easy it is to make you nervous." He whispers into your ear. You roll your eyes, trying to push him away. You wanted to escape this situation but loved how his arms felt around you. It's not like Rafe, your friend, had never hugged you, but lately, you've been crushing on him pretty hard. "Stop, it's not funny anymore. It's too hot for you to cling to me like this." You groan, becoming very aware of how hot you are becoming. Everyone around you can see how nervous and frustrated you have become. "Come on, Rafe. Leave her alone." Gracie laughs, pulling him away. Thank goodness for your best friend. She knew how you felt for Rafe, and even though the whole situation was funny, she did not want to see you suffer in front of everyone. "Okay, I'll stop." He smiled, surrendering. "I'm going to go grab a drink. Does anyone want anything? " he asked, grabbing his jacket off the chair beside Topper. "Grab me a water." You said, walking over to him to give him his phone. Taking the phone, he leaned down with a smile, "You look so cute, I could kiss you." You could feel the heat rising from your neck up. You cover your face, trying so hard to hide the embarrassment from Rafe. "God, you're so damn cute." He laughs, removing your hands from your face. "Don't hide. I think it's cute." With that, he turns around and heads to the bar with a wide smile. Smiling, you turn towards your friends, who are ready to tease you. "Don't even start." You groan, rolling your eyes. Sitting down, you sigh, wishing so badly that Rafe had kissed you like he said he wanted to. Stupid boy knew what he was doing to you. With a fake smile, you joined back into the conversation of the group, trying so hard to ignore the heat in your cheeks. You fucking hated blushing.

[yuzujjn]

◟ IT'S THAT ME EXPRESSO ⟡ BEOMGYU

𝗢𝗥────────𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇' '𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗈𝗁, 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍?

【 𝐕𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 】 𖹭 boyfriend!beomgyu & fem!rea 5OO established relationship fluff oneshot 𝒊 skinship kissing bickering 。click

다니 ⠀⦂ happy birthday anna (@hoonquette) remaking this old fic since you wanted it back hehe. maybe i'll write more txt > <

you should’ve known better than to make a deal with choi beomgyu.

because now, he’s sitting across from you on his bed, guitar in hand, a stupid grin on his face as he taps his fingers against the wooden body. the deal was simple—he teaches you how to play, and in exchange, he gets a kiss per lesson. one kiss. per lesson.

but this menace of a boyfriend is acting like he’s running a whole business, and you're his number one paying customer.

"alright, sweetheart, pay up," he says smugly, fingers plucking at a random note, his foot bouncing slightly as he watches you expectantly.

you narrow your eyes, lips twitching. "you literally just made me press down on a string. that's not even a chord, gyu."

he grins, "wow. so now you're backing out of the deal? after everything i've done for you?"

"you haven't done anything," you deadpan.

"i literally just enlightened your mind—"

"you made me press on one string."

"—and this is the thanks i get? unbelievable," he sighs, shaking his head. "you know, some people would kill to have a teacher like me."

"some people would kill you if they had a teacher like you."

he laughs at your comment. he’s lucky you love that laugh, otherwise you would’ve shoved him off the bed by now.

he leans forward, resting his chin on the guitar. "c'mon, baby. don't be stingy."

"you're not getting a kiss for that," you say firmly. "the deal was one per lesson, not one per every piece of useless information you dump on me."

"first of all, disrespectful," he says, sitting up straight again. "second of all, i think this is a fair exchange. you get knowledge, i get a kiss. the world stays in balance."

"you just want an excuse to kiss me."

"do i need an excuse?"

and just like that, you're caught. because no, he doesn’t need an excuse, and he knows it. because the moment his voice drops just slightly, you know you’re done for.

he grins, watching the way your resolve weakens. "you know you wanna."

you groan, grabbing his hoodie to pull him closer, but beomgyu beats you to it, one hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you like he has all the time in the world. and maybe he does, because he takes his sweet time with you, lips brushing against yours before deepening the kiss, fingers tracing along your jaw like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

his guitar is forgotten, pushed to the side as he leans in, pressing you further into the bed. your hands slip into his hair, tugging slightly before pulling away just enough to murmur, "see? that wasn't so bad."

you roll your eyes, trying to fight the warmth in your cheeks. "you're insufferable."

"and yet you're still here, willingly kissing me."

you shove at his shoulder, and he laughs, finally sitting back up, reaching for his guitar again. "alright, alright. since you were so generous, i'll give you a discount."

you squint at him. "...what kind of discount?"

he smirks, plucking a few strings. "one kiss for two chords."

you groan, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. "i hate you."

he grins, nudging your leg with his knee. "no you don't."

...yeah, you really don’t.

[suzukiblu]

Day seventeen of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Fuck yeah,” Kon says with a grin as he accepts the source of all delicious chocolatey-sugary caramel smells in the room. “Thanks, man.” 

“My bad for not paying enough attention to your specs, just picked myself a whole bouquet of whoopsy-daisies there,” Bernard says, and Tim laughs again, and Kon buries a snigger of his own in the hot chocolate and narrowly avoids getting caramel on his nose. He still feels a little–disconnected, maybe, like his TTK’s maybe a little off-center or something. Like his equilibrium or his sense of balance or whatever isn’t exactly fitting right, maybe. 

Bernard is still just fucking funny, though. 

Kon takes a swallow of the hot chocolate, since again he does not need to worry about burning his tastebuds off or even a light scalding, and–oh Jesus, the caramel is actually in the hot chocolate, isn’t it. Jesus. 

Ma is never gonna forgive him for the amount of recipes he is apparently gonna be asking Tim’s boyfriend for, yeah. 

“Actually maybe I am the marrying kind,” he mutters under his breath, then takes a long sip of hot chocolate. Jesus. Just–Jeeeeesus. “What the fuck does Gotham put in the hot chocolate?” 

“Well, this time I did cocoa powder, milk, powdered sugar, and caramel sauce,” Bernard says. Kon stops mid-sip just to stare blankly at him. “But like, Batburger for example has a recipe that’s a bit more questionable and has occasionally been compromised by Condiment King, so that’s a whole other thing.” 

“Tim,” Kon says, turning his head just enough to eye Tim instead, because he really just needs a minute here. Like, just for his stupid weird brain’s sake, if nothing else. “Where the fuck did you find this dude and what the fuck did you do to earn him? Like, karmically-speaking or whatever. I just need to know what’s better than literally fucking dying to save the world, because I am not pulling chicks who make hot chocolate from fucking scratch. I didn’t know you fucking could make hot chocolate from scratch.” 

“I mean, it’s just better that way, y’know?” Bernard says with a shrug. “Though in retrospect I could’ve just made hot caramel milk, I dunno if that’d be your thing though.” 

Kon is possibly eyeing Tim accusingly now. Tim grins slyly at him in return and picks up his latte to blow gently on it. Bernard literally drew a heart in the foam, because Tim’s a terrible person who stole all the good karma in the world, apparently. Though seriously, Kon doesn’t even know how the dude made a latte, Tim doesn’t even have an espresso machine or whatever. Like, the limited counter space thing was not an exaggeration in any way, shape, or form. 

Tim is literally terrible, yeah, Kon decides. Absolute worst best friend a guy could have. 

Like, aside from the part where he’s saved his life a few thousand times and also just fucked him so good that he low-key had a nervous breakdown about it, anyway. The dick really is just that good, apparently. 

Kon might actually sulk a little when Clark locks up the pink K. Like hello, no one else is using it for anything; why can’t he just keep it? 

“So like do you have a sister? Maybe a super-close cousin or something?” he asks Bernard, giving him a speculative look. 

“Only child, and all my cousins are like fifteen years older than us and either in jail or married with kids,” Bernard replies with a laugh. 

“So what I’m hearing is conjugal visits and MILFs,” Kon says reasonably, flashing him a sharp grin before taking another sip of really fucking good hot chocolate, and Bernard laughs again. “More importantly, do any of them come in ‘cute blonde who knows how to cook’ too?” 

“I’ll tell you when you’re straight again and can properly appreciate them,” Bernard says, still snickering. “No offense to the Dowd family line or anything, just none of us are Starfire-level here. Eh, well, maybe Cousin Nina is bridging the gap a little, but that’s about it.” 

“Fair,” Kon allows, then takes another drink. He feels like there's something he should be thinking of, but he can’t quite–

“‘Nina’?” Tim repeats, tilting his head slowly to one side. “Uh . . . maternal or paternal cousin, Bernard?” 

“Paternal,” Bernard says. “Why?” 

“Bernard,” Tim says. “Did we get your cousin arrested?”

[random-blurbs]

Omni Mark x reader pt.2?

a/n - YOOOOO!? why does he look fine in this angle (pure terrible written smut again tbh hehehehhe ——- i’m drunk ill fix it in a couple days)

@madzpm I’m tagging you but don’t be disappointed i’ll fix it in a couple days (╯︵╰)

“We can’t do this again. I need to go please.” He didn’t want to hear it. Waking up after you both peacefully slept next to one another without you by his side confirmed his thoughts about you.

He hates how devoted you are. How devoted you are to your Mark even when he fucking you into his pillows. When poor Mark was trying to stand his own against all the variants you were getting fucked stupid in a random home, happily taking what he gave. “You really think you want to be with that Mark.” Gritting your teeth as you felt his hand grip tighter onto your hair you tried keeping your tears away not wanting to entertain him any further. Scared if you showed anything he would take advantage of it.

“Don’t you get it.” In a destroyed building you can only hear each other heavy breathing, knowing sinfully where this is going to go. Not trying to make an effort to get away anymore.

“I would treat you so good.” The Mark in-front of you almost pathetically said. He was desperate for you to understand how much he loves you. How much he’s willing to do if it meant having you by his side. “Why are you doing this.” He shouldn’t admit this. As his head rested on your chest he felt your heartbeat be everything but normal. You were scared of him. Of the consequences it might bring if you continue this.

It should’ve deterred him and finally leave you alone. But the thought excited him. You wanted him. And he knew this fully well. He has everything in his world yet all he wants in this one is to fuck you until you become all his. You are only his. You need to know this. And he’ll make you understand this.

Pressing his lips against you, he wanted you to feel his desperation, a desperation he only wants to show you. You are his and he is yours. Biting your lip letting out an airy moan he slipped his tongue tasting everything of yours. His body against yours as you feel against his suit how much he wanted you. Letting your hands ghost over his crotch making him groan into your kiss. Your touch being everything he missed, he’ll accept everything you give. “Keep on going.” He moaned out kissing your neck. Sucking onto it softly as you felt your body buck into him in response.

You’re betraying him. You know you are. But as you peel away from this Mark his flushed heaving face made you forget what you ever wanted. The adoration he looked at you with, the longing to appreciate everything you are made you pathetically want him.

“I hate you.” You confessed making him pull away with a pained smile. The Mark infront of you was disgusting man. He’s killed hundreds of innocent, yet here you are lying in an abandoned building hoping he takes whatever left of what you are. “Do you really now?” Biting into your lower neck you let out an embarrassed moan, feeling the pleasure wrap your entire being. He destroys all defenses you have, but you can’t even act like you hate it. You wanted this. You wanted him. The want he has for you doesn’t compared to your Mark’s.

Does it make you into a bad person?

Yes.

But you no longer care, pressing your lips back into his making him grin. You were his. Feeling your lower half grind into his dick painfully so he bit into your lower neck again making you gasp happily. Teasing one another of who can break feeling his dick harden underneath you making you sigh happily. “Oh god Mark~” Pathetically moaning out you quickened your pace making him grip his fingers around your waist. “Just keep doing that.” He moaned out as you grind against him, a playful motion you don’t get tired of, wanting to feel every part of him.

Not wanting to waste time his mouth finally latched onto your nipple making you shudder. Breathing heavily you felt your fingers tangle into his hair pulling him closer making him moan out. Willing to do everything for you that brings you pleasure. Swirling his tongue his fingers drifted to your clit lightly tapping it wanting to feel every reaction out of you. Hips shifting against his fingers, whining for his touch. With spit covered fingers he finally shoved it into your hole wanting to fuck everything of him in you.

One finger.

Then two.

A consistent pace as he heard the wet squelches echo throughout the building. “You ok?” Nodding as you felt the rough rubble scratch against your back up and down. Adding onto the painful pleasure your hands wrapped around his neck grinding into his fingers wanting to feel every part of him. “Just hurry please.” You whined making his dick harden at the thought. “Do you even deserve it?” He questioned, quickly adding a third finger making you moan out in desperation wanting to feel every part of him. “Yes please! Please I swear….” He knows you don’t even even realize what you’re swearing to but the thought of your dumbed out face was enough to make him tease his dick at your entrance.

“Don’t you dare ever leave me.” Inserting into you slowly you let out a drawled out moan feeling every ridge of his dick entering your insides. Content with this you let your ass bounce against it making him moan into your ear, feeling the desperation at every touch. How his fingers dig into your sides painfully so making your nails dig into him in response. “This is all I want for you.” Feeling your plush hips he held onto it tightly letting you bounce at it at your pace, hearing your moans as encouragement. With quickened moans your nails dug into his shoulders wanting to feel every part of him. “I just want you to feel good.” Feeling every part of him was enough, you becoming a part of him was enough. You bit your lip dragging your hips along his dick making his grip on you tighten.

“C’mon that quickly?” He teased pulling away from you making you involuntary whine missing the warmth his dick provided. Barely sparing you glance you his head dropped into your wanting pussy, licking up every want of your being for him right then and there. Swirling his tongue as you gripped onto his hair , grinding into it wanting him to lap up every taste of you. He was yours.

And you knew he wanted it.

Moaning outloud as your fingers caressed his scalp you grinded back onto his tongue wanting to feel every part of him. Feeling him lick every part of you, you moaned out, never wanting him to forget your taste.

Shoving his hands into your mouth you spat out anything he wanted, feeling his dick rub everything with it before lining your entrance with it again. “Just hurry up.” You whined, making him whine with temptation. “God you’re something else.” He whispered out before finally inserting into you as you let out a drawled out moan. You were ethereal to him, a goddess that he needs to fuck to even compare standing beside. Grinding back onto his dick your whined feeling your orgasm coming as you held onto his neck tightly feeling yourself clench around him. Bouncing onto his dick you knew you couldn’t let go of this man. You wanted to protect him of everything, and you will. He’s made you feel whole, loved , and wanted. He’s your everything, as you feel the ridge of his dick grind against your dick unrelenting as you finally let yourself feel everything you wanted.

Moaning out as you bounced on his dick looking into his eyes, it didn’t matter he wasn’t your Mark. Practically ignoring the bloodied red and white suit you held onto him tightly feeling his dick fill your entire being with a lengthy moan, he is yours and you will carry his future. Stuttering thrusts you felt his cum fill you as he let out a relieving moan into your neck, wanting to stay connected with him, as you held him tightly not wanting to let him go, “I want to stay with you.”

You confessed to him. Holding onto you tightly you feel every muscle of his arm keep you there as he caressed your face.

With a tired sigh he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “Don’t worry.”

“We’ll stay together.” Not promising a forever but instead making one to protect you as he laid his life for you. He would do everything for you, he won’t make the same mistakes he did in his own world. Just staying connected with him was enough hearing his steady breaths as you laid on his chest reminding you he’s still human, feeling the warmth of holding you so tightly, wanting to stay oblivious to the hurt ahead.

[ssentimentals]

Hi love! Was hoping to request again for Wonwoo x reader prompt 22:Truth or dare/party games. Where Wonwoo got dared to kiss reader and it cements to himself that he has feelings for her.

Sorry, i saw the news of Wonwoo's enlistment and wanted to request, hope its okay! 💔😢

hello again sweets! ah yes, those news really have their own impact on all of us :/ so i'll happily write some fluff!

prompt: truth or dare/party games

wonwoo doesn't like to admit that he has a soft spot for you, but he does. he does, because the only reason he's sitting here now and playing in this stupid game is you. when you looked at him with your pretty eyes and mumbled 'woo, pleaaase, let's play!' he really couldn't say 'no'. it means something - his soft spot for you, his inability to say 'no'. wonwoo knows it means something. he's just not sure that he's ready to find out.

'your turn!' dino squeaks, bumping their shoulders together. 'pick.'

wonwoo glances at the cards wearily and sighs. he just knows that four stacks fo carsd are lying in front of him and each has something written on it, a question or an action. wonwoo hopes it's a question, but of course he's not that lucky - it's an action. kiss someone you like the most from the players is written neatly on it and wonwoo holds it close, so no one can see it. everyone of course try to snatch it from him or take a peak, but he presses the card firmly to his chest, looking down. he can say 'pass' and lose. he can lie about what's written and do something else. or. or-

'what's there, woo?' you ask curiously, leaning a bit closer to him.

or. or he can do exactly what's written there and kiss you. because it's obviously you who he likes out of everyone who is playing now, out of everyone in this house, in this whole university. at least wonwoo thinks he likes you. he supposes he likes you, because you are not just a friend for him. he has other female friends, but with them he doesn't notice tiny things the way he does with you. with you wonwoo can't help but notice everything: how you scrunch your nose when your coffee is too hot, how you pick your nails when you're overthinking, how you always go for cherry scented anything from hand cremes to candles because it's your favorite scent. he knows all of it means something-

'wonwoo,' you call, pouting. 'what is it?'

there's only one to know, right? he leans closer to you, pocketing his card. 'it says that i should kiss someone i like.'

your eyes widen a little. your lips form an 'o' shape and this up close they smell like cherry. wonwoo gulps. bravery is usually not his strong forte, but some exceptions need to be made in order to get to the truth. he leans closer and understanding dawns on you as you blush intensely. 'going to kiss you,' wonwoo announces.

he gives you time to say 'no'. he gives you time to stand up or move away. but you don't and he hesitantly presses his lips against yours. it's just a press at first. your lips are soft and sticky with lipstick and wonwoo thinks he shouldn't like it as much as he does. then your lips part and he's just a weak man - he dives in. and yeah, he definitely does like you, because his heart is about to jump out of his chest from how good it feels to kiss you. to kiss you properly, with tongue, to meet you halfway, to swallow tiny sounds that you make. wonwoo thinks he can easily get addicted to this. when he leans back, he finally hears all the whistling and cheers, but he doesn't care; you look at him like his next words might shatter your world and he's not about to do that. he will never do that to you, ever. 'so,' he mutters, wetting his lips. 'i kissed someone i like.'

you blink, biting your lower lip. 'you sure?'

wonwoo nods. 'very sure,' he affirms, caressing your knee. 'hope you also kissed someone you like.'

that earns him a chuckle and a light push. you shake your head, smiling. 'yeah, reckon i did.'

wonwoo knew it all supposed to mean something. he now knows it does.

a/n: wonwoo feels to the max :( hope you liked this one, let me know! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[little-miss-apple]

Frustrated you rummage through your drawer. You have been looking for your favourite pair of panties everywhere. The laundry basket, the washing machine, the dryer...

This was the fourth pair of panties you had lost over the past two weeks. You started questioning your sanity after the last pair vanished because you definitely remembered throwing it in the laundry with the rest of your clothes.

You sit back, huffing in annoyance. How is this even possible? The other pieces of clothing you wore that day came out perfectly fine. You didn't pack much for this trip to Skyhaven so you'd soon run out of panties if they kept disappearing like this.

For a moment you debate if it could've ended up with Caleb's clean laundry, but the two of you didn't exactly wear the same type of undergarments. He would've noticed and returned them by now, right?

You mentally scold yourself as you slip into his room. You felt stupid for even trying but you were at your wits ends. So when you open his drawer and don't see your panties anywhere, you let out a dry laugh.

"I'm so stupid..." you whisper to yourself as you let yourself fall onto his bed. Your fingers trail over the fabric of his bedding. It still smells like him. He's away a lot these days, saying the fleet is busy.

You close your eyes and pull his pillow to your chest, wanting to feel and hold a semblance of him. The second you open your eyes they fall onto a familiar pattern.

"what the hell...."

Caleb returns home when it's almost midnight. The lights in his apartment are all turned off, so he assumes you went to bed early today. Panic sets off the second he peaks into your room and notices your empty bed.

He frantically calls out your name as he searches high and low, not stopping until he finds you sitting on his bed with dimmed lights and your limbs crossed.

"..you scared me pipsqueak," he says as his breathing regulates "what are you doing in here?"

"can't I be here?" you ask, voice sickingly sweet.

"ofcourse you can, you're always welcome in my room..."

"so, you're not hiding anything or something?"

"no...?" he says in a questioning tone "I usually keep classified documents in my office."

"Then what is this?" you say oh so innocently as you dangle your missing panties on your finger.

shit.

He instantly drops to your feet, still in his fleet uniform, his eyes look almost pleading as he looks up at you.

"I'm sorry, please... I don't know what came over me... I just- I thought I'd keep them for when you leave.. and I'll miss you... but they smelled so nice and like you-"

To be honest, apart from the fact that you were running out of underwear, you didn't really mind. If anything you thought it was kind of adorable in a sick and perverted way. But the way he looks at you, begging for forgiveness for giving into his perverted needs, it does something to you.

What was supposed to be some playful teasing suddenly intertwines with the need to almost punish him, keep him on his knees and make him beg for more.

"never knew you were such a disgusting pervert..." the words sound foreign when they leave your lips and if he was any closer, your speeding heartbeat would betray you.

His eyes grow wide for a moment before he stammers; "I am... I am a disgusting pervert.. you- you should punish me..."

Your heart is pounding harder by the second. You let out a shaky breath as you try to compose yourself.

"put your hands behind your back." you command and he oblidges.

Your foot finds its way to his shoulder and you notice the way his eyes flick to the edge of your skirt. You lean back and allow your foot to drag down his chest slowly, observing the way his breath hitches as you go lower.

"A highly respected colonel turning out to be a sick and deprived puppy for me..."

He nods feverishly.

"I'm your puppy, I'm your puppy.. I'll do whatever you want me to do- please-"

Your foot reaches the bottom of his abdomen and you gently apply pressure to his hard cock. He let's out a strangled groan.

"what did you do with them?"

"w-what?"

"with my panties... what did you do with them?" you apply some more pressure.

"I- I'd smell them... jerk off with them... imagine it was you.... 'cus- 'cus I'm your dirty puppy..."

"... take off my panties."

His dick twitches in his pants and you don't have to tell him twice. His hands eagerly lift your skirt and slip the lace white panties down your legs. His hands tremble as he notices how soaked they are.

"Can I eat you out? Please? please I'll be so good... please?" he begs you, puppy dog eyes almost burning into your soul. How could you ever deny him when he looks at you like that?

You nod, giving him the green light. You are instantly tackled as he grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed like an eager puppy. His mouth immediately flies to you clit, sucking and licking it like a starved man.

Your hands fly to his hair, tugging it as you let out a surprised yelp. He hungrily laps your pussy, taking anything you're willing to give him.

"you taste so good..." he says, voiced muffled. He sounds like a drunk man, completely intoxicated by your juices. You can almost hear the way his eyes roll back in his head.

He puts his tongue flat against you, licking stripes from your opening to you clit, sucking the bundle of nervers when he comes near it. Your ankles lock behind his head as you desperately try to pull him impossibly closer.

You don't think you've ever came this hard before. The blissful release so strong that it leaves your whole world spinning as you arch your back of the bed and gasp for air. When you regain some strength, you look down, meeting his eyes that look oh so drunk on you, eyes hazy but still focused on you.

Shakily you sit up on the edge of the bed, forcing him to detach himself from your core. His lips are glossy with your juices as he looks up at you.

"did I do well?"

"yeah... so well..." you say, still breathless. "my good puppy..."

His eyes sparkle at your words of affirmation. He lunges towards you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He starts to unbutton his uniform while the your lips are still connected.

"what are you doing?" you ask bewildered when you break away from him.

"you won't leave your puppy like this, right?" he says referring to the massive tent in his uniform pants. Before you can answer, your back is pushed against the bed and he's hovering over you, dog tags brushing over your collar bones.

"and we'll get you more underwear tomorrow, I promise..."

(( thank you @mcdepressed290 for the prompt! it's not very good but I actually really enjoyed writing a more subby caleb! my degradation skills definitely need some work though...))

[writingoddess1125]

We Missed You pt. 2

Welp- Didn't expect this to be liked so much, So to keep with theme. Wrote during a lecture. (After late night brainstorming)

Nikto x FemReader + OOC

<<< Part 1

Warnings: Creepy shit, Stalking, Awkwardness

NOTE: If you've never seen Nikto from COD before he does have acute dissociative disorder, so at times he will refer to himself as 'Us/We' a bit randomly.

Let's see..

'How to share custody with a shady military parent?'

1. Seek legal advice

Yeah that wasn't going to work, Doubt that you even knew Nikto real name. Let alone could think to afford a lawyer nor wanted to legally deal with whatever he was tied into-

2. Prioritize child's care- make sure other parent wants to be involved.

Well- Nikto had seemly wanted to be involved in some way, He hadn't done anything wrong yet...

So far you'd only seen him once more but it had only been two weeks since he seemed to just appear in your home- of course at night which seemed to be his prefered hours of life, Having dropped off a about a 2000 dollars randomly then Once again creepily looked at Ava who has awake that time and the two having this weird game of staring at each other.

Which was something you suppose-

3. Create a Military- Specific Parenting Plan

You sighed, Doubting once again if a guy who literally didn't show his face would really want a legit custody agreement.

'Oh Hey, I'm gonna be gone foorrrr however long in a country I can't talk about- But can I have Ava for the weekend?'

Yeah No-

Welp Thanks Google-

Snapping from your disappointing phone search as you hear the shrill cry of Ava in her crib- Having woken up from her nap for needing to be changed it seemed.

It still baffled your mind that you had started to understand the cries of your daughter- biology is fucking wild..

"I gotcha I gotcha pretty girl"

Rolling up from bed you grab her to bring to the changing table. You are quick to change her and put her in a fresh onsie. Her bottom lip still poked out and eyes watery as she looked up at you still coming down from her crying fit.

"It's okay Ava, All better hm?"

Grateful she was fast to calm down this time around. After a moment you looked to her, seeing how now calm was rocking herself side to side a bit- Something your recently learned was the signs of her eventually able to roll over.

"Welp, looks like its tummy time"

You smile scooping her up you do a quick walk to the livingroom, sliding the little foam mat to you and lay her down on her stomach, Seeing how she babbled and made some random noises- adding some spicy kicks it seemed.

"Really?-"

Laying down next to her you can't help but smile at her random noises. Deciding to just have a made up conversation with her random vocals.

"Oh wow, You're a scholar in the making? And dancing?.. Triple threat right here"

Handing over toys that had random fruit and vegetables on it, seemingly the corn one had caught her attention this time as she held and shook it repeatedly.

"Yeah its Corn-"

She grunted some and continued to shake the toy a little as she gave a loud gargled squeal.

"I know right, It's absolutely A-mazing"

You hum out in a stupid voice, Earning another little babbled squeal from her. As you go to reach for another toy for her you see her gaze go up suddently, Looking behind you as she lifts her head more to look at whatever had caught her attention.

Your face scrunched up at this as you turn and see a dark figure standing over you, Drawing a small shriek from you before you quickly realize who it is.

"God Damn it Nikto!"

You rub your face, Coming down from the spike of adrenaline you'd just experienced. Nikto staring you down, you could practically feel him smirking at you.

"Must you always just appear? You can knock on the door or something-"

Grunting as you get up from the floor rather ungracefully, and glare at him. Nikto crossing his arms as he glanced around the room a bit almost inspecting it before looking back down at Ava clearly ignoring your complaint.

Once again starting his odd staring contest with the current baby who was trying to wiggle in what almost looked like poorly executed swimming.

"I gotta know- What's with the staring game?" You couldn't really help but ask.

"She is my daughter. We can look"

He mumbled rolling his eyes. Smartass..

"Yes. But why do you only look at her?"

Nikto is quiet again, moving his head side to side slowly- A habit you were starting to pick up on when he seemed to be conflicted.

"....She is small..."

You hear the tone in his voice change slightly at saying that as it clicks. He was nervous to pick up his child?

"Well, if you want you can hold her"

He grunted, Shaking his head 'no' almost too fast. You couldn't help yourself as you gave a bit of a dramatic shrug.

"Well, Thats unfortunate. Someone who can break into a apartment but cant hold a baby.. What a shame"

Nikto casting you a intense side glare as he knew damn well you were giving him a small jab to his ego. A hella dangerous game but, You needed some sort of win.

"Fine.."

You cackle at this- bending down you scoop up Ava to bring to her Father. Who was currently holding out his large gloved hands like how one would go to hold a pet, and seemingly unsure of how to even take her from you.

Your as hesitant as Nikto for a split second as he awkwardly picked her under her armpit from your hands, which makes her head bobble and your fast to support it. Nikto seemingly catching on quickly as he pulls her to his chest so she was rested against him.

Ava was able to be easily secured by just one of his hands which almost took up her whole back and bottom, Leaving the other hand just hovering near her like when someone guarded a flame from going out.

He stood almost perfectly still then.

You see a flash of absolute terror in his eyes as he feels her pressed gently to him. Like processing that the child he'd been staring at was actually real and currently breathing and moving against him.

He looks down slowly at her while she stares up at him, Her legs kicking a bit as she did so and still a bit bobbly. The two having that weird game of staring at each other again.

It was like this for a solid minute or so-

Before Nikto turned away from you rather suddently, His back to you completely as you see his free hand shift up to his mask and he slowly pulls it up. His body language was awkward at best as he seemed to be letting his daughter see his face and waiting for a reaction.

For a second your thought you saw a peak of dark brown hair. However you didn't dare go to actually look, Ava babbled a little as she stared up at him still- Drool coming down her chin as she gave a gummy sorta smile and continued her squeals. Her tiny hands grabbing at his hoodie and looking around overall before back to his face. Nikto shoulders seen to relax then.

You hear him mumble something in his native tongue seeming a small conversation- It was impossible to hear really by how soft he was speaking. However it seemed to keep Ava attention slightly, another to were she gave another odd drool filled squeal.

A soft chuckle leaving him as you only seeing his head dip slightly in what you assume was him kissing the top of her head before retracting and pulling his mask back down, Securing it in place before turning back to you to hand her over very carefully. Clearly only willing to hold her for a short period of time.

"You Okay?" You can't help but ask, Seeing the way his gaze seemed to be locked onto Ava still however much softer, almost spaced out. He nodded sharply.

"..She has a middlename right?"

Blinking at the suddently whiplash question- it feeling like there was only pop-ups of weirdness or terror from Nikto everytime he was here.

"Um, Yes? It's-"

"I want add Igorevna to it-"

"What?" Now just confused. Curious how him holding his daughter for a few minutes now was leading to a very minor name change of all things.

"Adding Igorevna to her name. Is that fine?"

"What like a second middle name?"

He gave a 50/50 sign at that, Which you have to surpress the eye roll on. Figuring you shouldn't bother asking what it ment. He probably wouldn't tell you anyway.

This was not a battle you wanted to get into- Besides adding another middle name wasn't terrible. You didn't really understand why this was something he wanted but seemed easy to give at least-

"Sure. I'll call the Vital records office this week an-"

He held up a hand to stop you quickly.

"Dont. We'll have done by the end of the week-"

Ah Yes, You'd forgot that soft terror that plauged you about this man- Of course he would have some magical way to change your daughter's middle name in a week.

"Also I gave you money to get more things."

Setting Ava back down on the mat now on her back with another toy toy.

"Well I used it to get Ava stuff and put the rest to the side incase of emergencies for her-"

"Yourself too. Its ment for you to take care of Ava and You. You need better care, youre terrible at it"

He said casually, Shaking your head mildly offended by him.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself thank you very muc-"

"(Y/N) you are unable at drinking water, you have had 'snacks' for lunches, you have not done your laundry nor showered in 2 days, all vegetables are frozen and 70% of diet is from the microwave or from box- You care for Ava, not yourself"

....

"Did.. Did you bug my house?"

You manage out, Staring him dead in the eyes at the painfully detailed critiques. He didn't say anything, just stared at you in return with a blank look. A cold shiver doing down your spine at the silent confirmation of his actions.

"Wait how many times have you been in here without me knowing?-"

"We will give more to you. Get better food and all you need-"

He said calmly, Brushing your question off casually as if he hadn't just told you he had been spying on you hard core. Pulling once more a tight wad of cash that was tossed to the near by coffee table. Before Nikto walked off without another word, Leaving you both terrified, shocked and heavily conflicted over what to really do next?..

Oh what the fuck is your life..

You did however comply with his wishes, Honestly too worried at what hed do otherwise- better food was purchased, as well as some clothes that weren't sweatpants, a big waterbottle too and other basic things you had been needing.

It was rather terrifying to know someone was watching your every move though. That and not knowing where he placed the cameras (You had tried to see if you could find at least one but utterly failed) or what he'd already seen..

That was here nor there at this point.

Later that week you went down to the mailbox units to sort through the forgetten avalanche of paper, (youd forgotten in your paranoid frenzy of Nikto watching you) Ava in a stroller currently blowing spit bubbles at you as you sorted through it all- However what stuck out was the rather massive manilla envelope which you had a inkling of what it was.

You open it quickly and sure enough, all new copies of your daughter's information was there. This time with the added Igorevna taxed on.

Looking through the rather impressive display of new documents your face couldn't help but scrunched up a bit- Pulling up a new birth certificate specifically which you see the father was now filled in. Only a Nikto as the front. Which from a Google search you knew ment 'Nobody' and what looked like a redacted last name.

Oh that's so comforting..

"Good Morning (Y/N)!"

You turn to see your landlord walking towards you, Most likely having gotten back from touring an apartment by the slightly winded look she had and one of her braids down from its usually neat neat headwrap.

"Morning Miss Rolle. How are you doing?"

Ms. Rolle was a nice women, a decent property manager and loved to stop you for chats especially when you had Ava. Always cooing at your daughter and offering helpful advice on small children.

Truthfully a godsend the first month of your daughter's life.

"Oh Im good Love just the same old. I just came over about your new unit, it will be ready in a few weeks just to keep you in the loop- Im sure packing is annoying with a baby. Just let me know if you need help, I know one of the maintenance men would be happy to help"

Ms Rolle said as she adjusted the tent of the stroller so it covered your daughter more. However you looked to the women fast and in confusion.

"New Unit?-"

She now looked at you both confused and clearly a bit worried. Probably sleep deprivation getting you.

"Yeah. You had sent an email wanting the 3 bedroom unit- you already gave the deposit and a years worth of rent and paid to break the current on your 1 bedroom too.."

Immediately you rubbed the bridge of your nose as you felt that acute pain of realization hit you in that moment.

Nikto-

However the irritate was short lived by a sudden thought.

Why was there three bedrooms?-

[lustlovehart]

You had mention in your post about M!reader formally meeting the other members of each unit. Specifically with Trey and Cater meeting M!reader trying to steal some of the treats Trey made. It would be funny if that’s how the Heartslabyul unit just started using sweets to try and lure m!reader. Then everyone else catches on and then half the budget for Crowley’s organization is wasted on sweets.

Lmao, in this case I like to think the other factions were off duty all watching Heartslaybul work from a distance. Not too interesting, but it’s all they really have.

Savanaclaw is training outside, all of them doubting this trap of theirs is gonna work on whatever they’re trying to catch. Monsters aren’t the smartest but they at least have survival instincts… Octavinelle has their interest peaked, looking from the river, curious to see if the pile of sweets will catch anything. If it does, they’re sure it'll simply be some small imp, hardly worth working overtime for. Scarabia is mixed, watching over them from a balcony in Sage's quarter, Kalim thinking positively, believing they’ll catch some high-bounty beast if he hopes hard enough for them. Jamil doesn't care, but he also has some curiosity as to what they’ll get. Pomefiore is taking a stroll through the woods when they find them, peaking through the forest at the desserts. Rook sings with confidence that they’ll succeed in capture, the other two not so convinced… Idia is hidden behind a fence because he didn’t plan on leaving his room, or seeing anyone… He’s more focused on leaving than what they’re doing because there are some rumors about you that he needs to look at. Diasmonia watches from a cliff, surrounding a stray gargoyle found in the wild. It’s their break yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re relaxing. They all, watch diligently in case help is needed. And the rest of them who aren’t hunters, are scattered around, still watching.

For the most part, a majority of them are sure this is just some joke. The newbies must of said something about this method, and now their seniors are showing them just how stupid their idea is. A bush rustled when the final sweet is placed, everyone convinced a small goblin will jump out, Riddle easily taking it down. Really… it was foolish to even think something else would appear—

…

Familiar eyes peak from the dark, their vision increasing is clarity. They all stand tall at the creature, watching with bated breath at what could come out… It must be a beast with your eyes, right? There’s no way this would work on you, the highest bounty possible… Your form peaks from the leaves, your monstrous features gleaming in the light. You’re going to leave immediately right? There’s no way you’ll stay—

… You’re joking.

You slowly lean down, your eyes watching keenly at the hunters, slowly taking their offerings, stuffing them into your mouth. Even after you’ve had your fill they remain, gazing at you diligently, like they’re searing you into their minds. You slowly walk forward, your eyes squinting as you move closer to Riddle. Your faces are a hair width apart, and it has his breath hitch in his throat. He could kill you right now, end it all and sear his legacy into history, follow the rules. But he doesn’t.

He allows you to examine him closely, at some point your hands poke him. He’s about to talk to you, tell you how he shall have you punished for all the rules you’ve broken, even how he’ll do it. But you beat him to the punch.

“I remember you… You’re the one… who decapitates.” … you remember him…? You remember him…! “The way… you kill…” your mouth clicks a couple of times, like you’re scanning your surroundings, “you kill pretty. Red… you’re Red now.” he can’t fully understand you, but the words make enough sense that it has him reeling. It’s his turn to talk to you now—

Ace accidentally steps forward— and you’re gone. It serves as a reason for Riddle to yell at him. They were so close…! He couldn’t wait for a moment! Truly, is he—

The rest of the cast are gone, invading any pastry shop open or closed.

Meanwhile Crowley’s wondering if all his hunters just gained a sudden sweet tooth… and where’s his money— why are all the funds gone?!?

…

They all wait patiently until a specific monster appears from the shadows, so then maybe they too, can have an exchange just like Riddle’s.

[isaadore]

SAY YOU'LL BE BETTER LUKE HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎pairing luke hughes x reader

SUMMARY luke does something stupid, bad enough to leave you questioning everything. he never meant to hurt you, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. word count 0.6k

warnings angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, miscommunication, mentions of drinking, swearing

note requested <3 and i know the photos and theme don’t match the story AT ALL but i couldn’t find anything else okay 😣

LH43 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

THE PARTY WAS too loud.

Music rattled the walls, the bass thudding in your chest like a second heartbeat. Bodies were packed into the house, voices overlapping, the scent of spilled drinks and expensive cologne hanging heavy in the air.

And Luke?

Luke was in the middle of it all, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Like he hadn’t completely forgotten about you.

You weren’t even sure why you came. You waited for him for over an hour before giving up, and the dinner you planned together was now sitting cold in your apartment. He promised. Swore up and down that he would be there. But then Jack texted you about the party, and suddenly it all made sense.

You didn’t even want to be mad, but it was hard not to be when you watched him toss an arm over a random guy’s shoulder, grinning like nothing else existed outside that house. Like you didn’t exist.

Maybe it was dramatic. Maybe it was stupid. But you were always the one waiting on Luke, weren’t you? Always the one adjusting, bending, letting him take up all the space while you shrank yourself down.

And maybe you were finally tired of it.

You turned to leave, shoving past the crowd, but you didn’t get far before a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Hey, wait.” His voice was slightly slurred, but the panic in his tone was obvious. “Where are you going?”

You pulled yourself free. “Home.”

Luke blinked. “What? But you just got here.”

You scoffed. “I wasn’t supposed to be here, Luke. I was supposed to be with you.”

His face fell, confusion turning to realization, then regret. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Your arms crossed over your chest. “Shit.”

“I—fuck, I lost track of time. I—”

You shook your head, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter.”

But it did matter, and he knew it. You saw it in the way his brows knit together, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

It would have almost been funny if it didn’t hurt so much.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away. “Have fun, Luke.”

You didn’t wait for a response.

You didn’t expect him to show up.

You were curled up on your couch, staring blankly at the untouched plates on the table, when there was a knock at your door. You ignored it at first, but then his voice came through.

“Please.”

You hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, you opened the door.

Luke stood there, hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, not from drinking, but from guilt. He looked exhausted. Lost.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

You leaned against the doorframe. “For what?”

“For everything. For not showing up, for making you feel like…” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “Like you don’t matter.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

“I just…” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t want to be that guy. The one who takes you for granted. Because I don’t. I swear, I don’t.”

Your eyes burned. “Then why does it feel like you do?”

Luke’s breath caught. He looked like you had just knocked the air out of his lungs.

You sighed, your voice quieter now. “You say I matter, but when it comes down to it, I’m always the one waiting for you.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t try to defend himself. He just nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

And then, cautiously, he stepped forward. “I love you,” he said, like the words might break in his mouth. “And I swear to you, I’ll be better. I just need you to let me prove it.”

You should have said no. Should have told him it was too late. But when you looked at him, at the desperation in his eyes, the raw, open way he was looking at you, you didn’t want to.

Because you loved him too.

You stepped back, opening the door a little wider.

Luke exhaled, relief washing over his face as he stepped inside, wrapping his arms around you like he never wanted to let go.

And for now, you let him.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎LH43 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

© 2025 ISAADORE

[sxcret-garden]

Thoughts on mean dom!Hongjoong

ღ Ateez Hongjoong x gn!reader ღ genre & warnings: smut headcanons, heavy dom-sub dynamic, implied cnc, he's a bit sadistic ngl... ღ reader: no descriptions of reader's anatomy, no pronouns used

mean dom!Hongjoong is MEAN mean...

enjoys messing with you and having power over you sooooo much

loves mocking and degrading you and then mocks you some more for how you get off on him talking down on you like that

this man will not be nice even if you beg for it, he will literally do with you what he wants and he has the ability to completely break you, until you're nothing more than a pliant and submissive pile of whimpers

makes you call him sir or master, and if you usually (when he's not being mean) call him daddy he'll shoot that down immediately - "Daddy isn't here, sweetheart. You've been bad, so better kneel for you master."

speaking of - he loves punishing you and being not nice about it; riling you up or even edging you only to then deny you your orgasm when he has you thinking he'll finally give you the release you desperately need at this point is one of his favourite ways to torture you

figures out your weaknesses over time and uses them all against you only to make you feel just how much control and power he has over you, and he'll do it with a shit-eating grin on his face too

loves putting you into a state of brainless submission and will mockingly call you his dumb baby once he's got you there, and then fuck you even more stupid than you thought was possible

mean dom!Hongjoong is rough when handling you, but he knows to slow down to test your patience and to simultaneously admire how pretty he thinks you are when you're completely under his spell

won't hesitate to use toys and other tools either - as much as he likes denying you pleasure, he also loves turning the pleasure into pain by using a toy on you to overstim you until you're writhing under his control, incoherent stutters escaping you as you beg him to stop

and don't get me started on handcuffs, blindfolds, ball-gags, literally anything to restrict you in some way... (and make you look and feel even more pathetic as he has his way with you...)

will of course establish multiple ways in which you can signal him that you really do need him to stop, like a safe word, a hand gesture, etc, and will snap out of it right away when you do use one of those - then he'll free you from any restraints he's put you in and make sure you're okay before continuing or calling it a day

aftercare is very important to him too, and as much as he will praise you for how well you did for him, he strikes me as the kind of dom who also needs a lot of reassurance and care after a scene, and repeated reminders that you enjoy what he does to you, even when playtime gets a bit more intense!!

[22ayla21]

Hi! First of all I wanted to say that I love your stories. And i have a request as well.

I know how you already wrote about the Amphoreus trio’s reaction to their wife getting flirted with. But how about the opposite, because these men would have fan clubs no doubt. I’d think that the women would know they’re off limite but still, they’re hot. So like imagine a woman just starts to flirt with them while their wife is right there. Would she be used to it by now and let her husband take care of it or just give the woman a death stare/ tell her to fuck off(✨politely✨)

Quiet jealousy

How would his wife react when other girls hit on him.

She never doubts her husband. Mydei is not one of those who cast glances at others, especially when he has her. She knows that he is indifferent to other people's attention and does not tolerate obsession.

If a fan is too persistent, Mydei's wife does not make scenes. She will simply look at her with such a look that the latter will immediately lose the desire to approach. Without words, but extremely eloquently.

She does not even take them seriously. Someone can sigh languidly, looking at her husband, but at the end of the day, it is she who falls asleep in his arms.

If someone dares to go too far and try to touch Mydei, his wife will literally make the rival realize with one phrase ("Are you really that stupid?") that it was a huge mistake.

She does not experience fierce jealousy, but if she sees someone looking too admiringly into her husband's eyes, she can demonstratively take his hand, cuddle up to him, or even give him a kiss, just to show that this is her man.

He does not like fanatical attention. If he sees that his wife is even a little offended by it, he will definitely say something, making it clear that only she is important to him. He can even deliberately lean over and whisper something intimate to her, causing embarrassment and laughter.

Yes, if she really gets tired of someone, then her look will say more than any words. If the fan still does not get the hint - well, let him try to meet a woman who is not afraid to put even Mydei in her place.

The wife knows very well that despite his outward attractiveness and cold aristocratic appearance, Anaxa shows no interest in his fans. He is too rational to waste time on such people, and she understands this. So, jealousy? No, thank you.

If someone crosses the line of what is permitted, starts flirting or, God forbid, touching her husband, she is no longer so calm. Steel appears in her gaze, and an icy warning in her smile.

If someone is too persistent, the wife will not make a scene. She will simply look at the fan in such a way that she will want to disappear. These are not hysterics, not scandals - this is a calm, murderous look, after which the man immediately loses the desire to test her patience.

She does not need to prove anything. She is already his wife, they already have a family. Sometimes it's even funny for her to watch how some try to get his attention, not realizing that it's useless.

But if someone goes too far. For example, if someone decides to question their relationship or says something like "Anaxa's wife? I don't think he's worthy of just one woman...", she will act very decisively. And perhaps Anaxa will have to intervene before his wife sends someone to the hospital.

It's not about insecurity, but about territoriality. She doesn't doubt her husband, but if someone sticks his nose into her family too persistently, he gets a silent but very eloquent warning: "Go to hell."

And Anaxa? He rarely even notices these women. But he likes to see how his wife calmly puts them in their place. Sometimes he even smirks when she gives him another murderous look.

Once he asked her if she was jealous. She just shrugged: "Who could have you but me?" It was not a question, but a fact. And Anaxa agreed with this fact.

Phainon is charming, of course, but his wife is confident in his devotion. She doesn't waste her nerves on jealousy and simply chuckles when someone sighs for her husband.

But if someone goes too far... Admiration is one thing, and outright pestering is another. If some fan starts to behave too persistently, his wife will give her an icy look and calmly but firmly make it clear: "Try again - you'll regret it."

In public, she smiles, remains polite, but as soon as the fan goes too far, her smile becomes predatory: "Oh, you love my husband? How sweet. But, unfortunately, he's mine." She likes to watch Phainon's reaction when someone hits on him. He can play the role of a sweet and polite person, but she knows how much he gets offended by excessive attention, especially when he's married and has three kids.

She can approach Phainon, take his hand or even hug him when someone is staring at him too brazenly. Her look at this moment speaks for itself: "He's mine. Envy him silently." Sometimes he deliberately flirts a little (within the bounds of decency) to see how his wife will react. And when she looks at him with the expression "Are you serious?", he only smirks.

She understands perfectly well that he has his own army of fans, but in the end he always comes home only to her. She is not one of those who are jealous without reason, but if someone dares to seriously try to take her husband away, then the fan will very quickly understand that she has no chance.

In general, she does not worry about his popularity, but if someone is too brazenly pestering - her look says more than any words: "Step aside, girl, while I'm kind."