#this is what happens when I reach a certain point of tired

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 17

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

Somewhere between conscious and not, Satine hears Ben’s knock at her door.

Her eyes flash open, revealing bright lights coming from her kitchen and softer streetlights flooding through the dark of her living room. Satine sits up sharply.

Asajj is already moving to the door, and Quinlan is at the window. “It’s Kenobi,” he confirms, and Asajj unlocks the deadbolt, swinging open the door, as Quinlan flips on the lights in the living room.

Ben looks worse for wear, though Satine imagines she looks worse. His expression confirms this.

Ben drops his travel pack - a military issue tactical backpack - at the door and heads immediately for Satine, sitting next to her. His hands immediately rise to her face, cupping her jaw. 

“You’re okay?”

“From a certain point of view,” she confirms, and he crushes her to him.

She feels him look over to their friends. “Thank you,” he says gruffly. “For coming over. For staying with her. For calling me.”

Quinlan is already holding Asajj’s jacket for her to slip into. “You’d do the same for us,” he says.

Ben nods, still holding tight to Satine.

Asajj opens the door. “Let us know what else we can do. We’re only a few minutes away, okay?”

They quietly depart, and Ben extracts himself from Satine to lock the door behind them. He shrugs out of his own jacket, toes off his shoes, and then returns to Satine, pulling her to him once more.

“Ventress texted me everything,” he says. “I think you were pretty out of it, but she got pictures of your arm and the blouse. She even took a sample of the blood from your shirt before washing it - she says it’s in your laundry room. Something tells me she’s had a lot of experience getting blood out of various types of fabric.”

Satine nods, her thoughts feeling slow.

“The texts are to establish a record of what happened, in case Malek tries anything funny. But I agree with Ventress: I don’t think he will. There are too many similar stories like this of him, and eventually the powers that be won’t be able to keep that pattern hidden.”

Satine sinks into him. Everything feels disjointed, off-kilter, and she's finding it difficult to focus on one train of thought.

She sighs.

“I need a shower,” she says suddenly. “I feel like I can’t get him off me.”

Ben nods against her, standing up and pulling her with him. When she sways, he steadies her.

He leads her up the stairs and to the en suite bathroom, though he waits outside as she starts the shower. As the water and air begin to heat, Satine feels a bit more like herself. She looks over at him.

“Stay,” she says.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” he says immediately.

“I meant stay here. I meant…join me.”

He obeys without needing another word of convincing, moving into the washroom, pulling off his sweater and tee shirt. His socks and slacks and boxers follow, and he places all his clothes neatly near the sink. Then he helps her with her shirt, her trousers, and her undergarments.

He steps into the shower to test the temperature. Finding it satisfactory, he reaches out a hand to her.

Satine takes it.

He maneuvers her so that she is directly under the warm shower’s spray, the drops falling against her back.

And without thinking about it, without planning it, Satine leans into him, wrapping her arms around his torso, his skin warming her own.

“Say something to me,” she whispers, realizing that despite passing out on the couch for several hours, she’s still bone tired. “Anything. I like knowing it’s you. Here.”

And so he begins, whispering sweet nothings and everythings, recounting adventures of their youth in a murmur. As he speaks, he lathers her body with soap, starting from her neck and moving downward, erasing everything that stubbornly clings to her from the past day’s events. Moving down her arms, he kisses her elbow softly. Eventually he kneels before her to clean her thighs and calves. He presses a kiss to her right hip as he stands, reaching for her shampoo and massaging it into her hair, careful to avoid getting any into her eyes.

“You’ve grown your hair out,” he says. “It’s different from how you styled it in high school.”

Satine folds herself against him again. “You like it?”

“For the record,” he says as he rinses out the shampoo carefully, “it doesn’t matter what I think. But I do like it. It makes you look…softer, somehow? I always knew, of course, what was hidden underneath the tough exterior, the sharpness. But I like that that part of you is reflected outward as well now.”

He moves on to condition her hair. Once he’s finished, Satine rotates them one hundred and eighty degrees, so that he is now under the showerhead, and she reaches for the shampoo, lathering it between her hands before massaging it through his hair. Then she pulls back, curious, and his hands drop to her waist.

“Do you have a special shampoo for your beard? I’ve never done this before with someone who has facial hair.”

“Sometime I want to ask you about that second sentence,” says Ben, and Satine’s curiosity is now reflected in his gaze. “But as for the first.” He chuckles. “Yes. Regular shampoo dries out the skin of my jaw. Just leave it for now.”

“And do you use conditioner?” Satine asks as she rinses his hair.

“Every so often,” says Ben. “But that, too, can be left for another time.”

And he turns them around again so that Satine is under the shower’s spray.

“Better?” he asks, pulling her against him.

She nods. “Much.”

---

Fifteen minutes later, they’re back downstairs again, tangled on the couch. Ben sets his phone down, having just submitted an order for delivery.

“I’m sorry I cut your trip short,” says Satine. “How much did it cost to move your flight up? I’ll pay you back.”

“Apology not accepted,” Ben says, his tone as gentle as his lips on her temple. “Nor will I accept any monetary compensation. This is what we do, Satine. Fake relationship or not, you’re my partner.”

She feels both warm and wary at the statement, the acknowledgement of what they are to each other. But at the same time, his words bring up what she has been steeling herself to tell him.

“Malek knows,” she whispers, and Ben tenses against her. “He’s been following me. Been following us. He was there that day - Valentine’s Day. Do you remember checking into the next row of books when the floorboards creaked? I think that was him. He has recordings.”

“Did he play them for you? How do you know?”

“I mean, the recordings could be a bluff, but I wouldn’t count on it. He used the words ‘a madness shared by two.’ It’s not a common enough phrase that I think it could have been a coincidence.”

Ben scrubs a hand over his face, looking suddenly pained, the expression he’d worn when they’d first gone out for drinks with Quinlan and Asajj, when Satine had first alluded to her troubles with the State Department. It’s unnerving, and Satine swears she can feel her heart pulsing in her chest.

“What is it?” she says.

He hesitates. Then - 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ben asks eventually, and the words sound like agony incarnate, but Satine is not following.

“Ben, what are you talking about?”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Satine? Why didn’t you tell me that you were being blackmailed by the Secretary of State?”

Satine pulls back slightly.

He cannot know this.

She feels the blood drain from her face, feels her stomach drop, as Ben continues. “When you first spoke about it, I assumed it was standard that you couldn’t give details, given the classified nature of whatever you were working on. But the threat Malek gave you in your office - that was above and beyond what any government agency should do to protect their secrets.”

Satine stands up, and then she backs up a step, needing space, needing distance. 

She’d been careful; she’d not let anything slip. There’s no way Ben could have learned of this from her. So she voices the only other explanation she can think of for how he’d learned of the threat against her.

“You weren’t in Wisconsin this week, were you?”

Ben blinks at her. “What?”

Satine takes another step back. “You went somewhere to dig into this. Your advisor worked for the CIA - did that mean you did as well? Did you reach out to contacts there who looked into this for you?”

Ben stands and reaches for her, but he grabs her elbow - the same elbow that Malek had grabbed - and only realizes this too late.

Satine jumps back. “Don’t - ” she hisses at him.

Ben steps away from her, hands raised in apology. “I’m sorry - my mind blanked.” He swallows. “I’m sorry," he repeats. "But…Satine, no - of course I was in Madison. I didn’t lie to you about where I went.”

“You promised you wouldn’t look into it,” says Satine, and she hates the way her voice rises, but she can’t help it. He’s endangered himself by his inability to leave well enough alone. “Ben, you said this was mine. It was the one thing I begged you to leave be. The one thing! You promised!”

She’s shaking, adrenaline back to the level it was earlier in the day, and she puts more space in between them.

Maybe she’d been right all those years ago when she’d walked away and never looked back. Because even if it had been the most painful thing she’d ever experienced, if she’d stayed her course, she never would have experienced this. And this is lethal.

“You promised,” she whispers.

How will she ever be safe with him if he's broken the first promise he made to her in two decades?

Ben’s expression is bewilderment twisted with anger. “I didn’t break any promises, Satine!” he says. Desperation rolls off him in waves, surrounding his words and his every movement.

“How did you find out about the blackmail, then?” hisses Satine, and her eyes have welled with moisture, making it difficult to see clearly.

Ben runs a hand through his still-wet hair. He closes his eyes and then breathes in deeply. Then he heads for his backpack, and Satine’s heart drops.

So this is it.

Her breath hitches.

He’s really leaving.

She folds her arms across her chest, hugging herself, trying to hold herself together for the second time that day. She'd only barely survived losing him once. She doesn't think she'll be able to put her heart together again if she loses him a second time.

But then the most miraculous thing happens.

Ben doesn’t pick up the backpack. Instead, he opens it, rummages inside it, and stands back up. In his hand is a voice recorder - exactly the same model she herself uses for key informant interviews, one with a USB component to store audio files - and a pair of small headphones.

“I didn’t break any promises,” Ben repeats. “I went to Wisconsin to meet my late advisor’s life partner. She gave me his voice recorder and his written notes. I listened to his interviews on the plane coming back here.”

He takes a step forward, holding out the recorder to her.

“My advisor didn’t work for the Agency,” Ben says, his voice low. “But that doesn’t mean what Quigon found wasn’t a threat to national security. He interviewed diplomats who were declared persona non grata by the United States,” he continues, using the term for officials who have been banned from traveling to America. “That’s what his research focused on. He was in Russia to interview three people in particular: Russian-born diplomats who had tried and failed to become American citizens. Do you know what he found?”

Satine shakes her head and reaches out to take the recorder. Ben steps back to give her more space.

“The interviews are from 2018, about a year after the current administration took office. The administration who appointed the current SecState.”

Ben speaks slowly, calmly.

“The three people Quigon interviewed were - at the time - permanent residents of the United States. But after a year working at the Department of State, suddenly their green card statuses were revoked. They were deported.”

Satine’s spine straightens, and the air turns eerie. “Why?” she whispers, but she thinks she already knows.

“Because they decided they didn’t want to live with the threat of blackmail over their heads for the rest of their lives. In those interviews, they describe the reports they wrote that never got cleared for publication by the department. Is that what happened to you?”

She doesn’t need to answer for Ben to know he’s correct.

“These persona non grata - two of them found evidence that SecState was facilitating military conflicts abroad. In some cases, SecState even initiated them. The third person found proof that SecState was being generously reimbursed for his troubles by Mockheed Lartin.”

“The weapons contractor,” says Satine.

Ben nods. “From there, it wasn’t a leap to guess what SecState did to you.” He takes a tentative step forward. “I didn’t break any promises, Satine. I swear to you. I swear.”

Satine holds the voice recorder to her chest, gripping it tightly. “I believe you,” she whispers, and she lets herself sink to the floor.

Ben, of course, is there to catch her before she tumbles down, and he softens her fall, cradling her against him.

“I wish you would have told me,” he whispers into her hair.

“How could I have?” she says, her voice breaking. “Ben, he’s untouchable. He could bury everything I’ve worked for with one phone call. And then Malek today - he made it clear your career would be collateral if I told you. If I brought you in. And now that you know - SecState is going to find a way to make this a legal hell for you, Ben. To the outside observer, it looks like we’re committing fraud to speed up my path to becoming a citizen.”

“Bullshit,” says Ben. “That won’t hold up in court, and the Secretary knows it. Us getting married would have no effect on your citizenship application. If this was years ago, that might be true. But you’ve lived here long enough now that getting married to a citizen won’t make one iota of difference.”

Satine ponders this. “Maybe, but we both know the courts are not infallible. They don’t make the right decisions one hundred percent of the time.”

“So let them try. We have something Palpatine and Malek didn’t anticipate - the recordings and the notes. If they want to raise legal hell, I’ll call that bet. And you and I happen to have connections to the best immigration lawyer turned Congressional representative this country has ever seen.”

Satine’s thoughts wander, and Padma’s words echo in her mind.

“Anakin says Ben is the happiest he’s ever seen him, and Ben is the closest thing Anakin has ever had to a father. Ben’s our family, and if you’re Ben’s family, then you’re my family, too.”

“Padma,” Satine whispers in realization.

Ben hugs her tightly.

“Does Tahl have a copy of everything?” Satine asks.

Ben nods. “Yes. Several. Each stored in secure locations in different states.”

Satine looks at him, relief flowing through her very veins. For the first time since they’d parted eighteen years ago, she feels completely and utterly…

Safe.

“So what’s our plan now?”

“Stay the course,” he says firmly. “Take your citizenship exam in June, but beware that you might fail again. I suspect your first exam was fixed, so your second probably will be, too. If you fail, we’ll talk about what to do. But for now, you are a permanent resident. So the plan is to proceed…as we have planned. You move into my place at the end of June. We get engaged in early September. And then we interview for new jobs. If SecState goes on the attack, we have everything we need. Because Quinlan was right - who says pacifists can’t defend themselves?”

And there’s nothing to do but throw her arms around his shoulders and bury her face in the crook of his neck.

Ben holds her as the rest of the tension leaves her body.

---

The next day, Satine is initially wary when Ben suggests visiting the Tidal Basin to see the cherry blossoms. 

Her next thought is that if yesterday hadn’t happened, she would jump at the chance to stroll around with Ben and marvel at flowers, and she’ll be damned if she lets Malek take anything more from her than he already has.

So they each grab a light jacket, and Ben grabs his advisor’s notebook and voice recorder and slips them into Satine’s purse. “Out of an abundance of caution,” he says, “we’re going to drop these off with Quinlan and Ventress on our way. Ventress will know the safest place to store them.”

Satine nods, and they head out to catch their bus.

A quarter of an hour later, Ben pulls the stop request cord as the bus nears Quinlan and Asajj’s neighborhood, and they disembark, Satine following as he leads the way to a brownstone. He passes through the front gate, holding it open for her, and together they walk up the path. Ben doesn't even have to knock - Asajj is sitting at the reading nook at the bay window, and she opens the door as they approach. She gestures them inside without a word.

As Ben explains to Asajj in hushed tones and hands her the notebook and the voice recorder, Quinlan approaches and wraps Satine in a warm hug. Without thinking about it, Satine leans into his embrace.

“How are you doing?” Quinlan says gently, letting her go.

Satine shrugs. “As good as can be expected,” she says. “Thanks.” She looks around. It’s dark and moody, with mahogany stairs and doors and matching hardwood floors, as well as shelf after shelf lined from floor to ceiling with books and pottery and other cultural artwork. “You have a lovely home.”

“You want to stay for a while?” Quinlan asks.

Satine sighs. “I'm afraid my emotional battery is running on empty, so I’ll take a rain check,” she admits. “But thank you.”

Asajj nods. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Ben glances at them both. “Thank you. Truly.”

This time, Asajj’s expression is carefully neutral. “For what?”

Ben laughs and grabs Satine’s hand. “Told you there’d be no place safer.”

They depart and head back to the bus stop, catching a different bus in the other direction. Satine leans into Ben as they settle into their seats, his arm a welcome weight on her shoulders as the bus heads toward the National Mall. Their route takes them past the National Museum of African American History and Culture, and then the Washington Monument. As the bus turns onto Independence Avenue, they stand, filing off along with folks who appear to be tourists.

Their walk to the Tidal Basin takes them directly in front of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Ben grips her hand a little bit tighter as they walk past it. Satine’s been inside the museum before, of course - no scholar in her field hasn’t been - but she has no desire to enter today. It’s full of triggers and she’s not in the right headspace to face them. She breathes out as they finally reach the Tidal Basin.

It’s stunning and alive with activity, mostly tourists but also a fair few District residents, the latter easily differentiated by their lack of souvenir bags. She and Ben walk in companionable silence. When they’ve made their way around most of the Basin and then back, they walk toward in the direction they’d come, toward the National Mall. But instead of heading to the bus stop, Ben twines his arm around hers.

“Indulge me for a moment.”

So of course she follows him. 

He leads her to the Smithsonian Castle, the signature building of the Smithsonian Institution. It’s currently closed for renovations, but Ben guides her behind the building, where lush magnolia trees are the centerpieces of an ornate garden.

While still busy with tourists, this garden is far less chaotic, and Satine and Ben are able to find a bench under one particularly gorgeous magnolia tree. Satine sits gratefully, and Ben sprawls out beside her, lying down on his back, his head in her lap.

Her thoughts wander again, jumping from topic to topic. Finally, she lands on one that feels safe, and she speaks.

“Your birthday is coming up,” Satine says, looking down at him. “Thirty-seven rotations around the sun. Congratulations on another successful year of cellular respiration.”

Ben snickers. “I’ll be quite sad to say goodbye to thirty-six,” he admits. “It’s treated me incredibly well, on the whole.” Then he considers. “But perhaps thirty-seven will be better. I only got to spend a small portion of thirty-six with you, after all.”

She flicks his nose, albeit gently. “Flirt.”

He catches her hand with his and lays both on his heart.

A memory suddenly flashes in her mind: them, in a similar position, at a similar time of year.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” Satine admits, looking down at his head in her lap, her hand on his chest.

Ben hushes her. “I told you; I didn’t want anything.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, well, we both know that’s rubbish.”

She considers her next words before she says them.

“I didn’t want to get you something that you’d have to lug off to college. But I wanted you to have something of me. A part of me.”

He looks at her curiously.

Satine takes a deep breath. “I’m bi,” she says quickly, her voice higher than usual.

“I mean, obviously,” says Ben, grinning, not even missing a beat.

“You knew?” Satine gapes at him. “But I’ve never told that to anyone before! I only realized it myself a few months ago.”

He laughs. “I knew because we’re mirrors, you and I,” he says.

She arches a brow. “You’re bi, too?”

“I mean, I think so?” He shrugs. “I seem to be attracted to folks of both my gender and genders that aren’t mine. It’s not like I’ve really acted on any of those feelings or explored them, so…I don’t know for sure.”

Satine wipes at her eyes, feeling betrayed by the moisture she finds there. “I was so worried about how you’d react.”

Ben sits up suddenly and pulls her close. “How long have we been together, Satine?” He brushes away a tear that threatens to fall from her eye.

“Almost two years,” she whispers.

“And you don’t know by now that you needn’t have worried? Silly of you, really.” He kisses her. “Knowing the deepest parts of you is the best birthday present.” And he kisses her again. “Thank you.”

She’s brought back to the present when Ben speaks.

“You know this about me, and you encourage it.”

It’s her turn to laugh, and she does so freely. Then she reaches down to grab a fallen magnolia blossom, and she tucks it behind his ear.

“I’m still not any good at birthday presents,” she admits.

He gives her a confused look. “The last one you gave me is still my most cherished birthday present ever.”

And he reaches up to rest his hand over her heart.

It suddenly begins to beat overtime, in anticipation of the words Satine knows she’s about to speak. “Well,” she says, “in the spirit of birthday presents - or slightly early birthday presents - you were curious about a statement I made last night.” She breathes in. “I haven’t been physically involved with many men since…we parted all those years ago.” At his encouraging look, she continues. “At least recently, I’ve tended to favor women.”

He grabs her hands with both of his and kisses both sets of knuckles, waiting for her to continue.

“I actually…” She laughs as she considers, continuing quietly. “I actually thought perhaps I was wrong about being attracted to men. Because you were really the only one who had kept my interest for any length of time.” She hesitates at how to best say her next thought. “Present company excluded, in my experience men tend to be…less fastidious lovers.”

He smirks. “Present company excluded,” he repeats. “I’m glad I can be the exception to my sex.”

She rolls her eyes. “Anyway,” she says, “eventually I realized I am in fact physically attracted to men, just as I am to women, but curiously…I am not romantically attracted to either. There has been, and continues to be, one exception. Obviously.”

Ben sits up so that their eyes are level.

“You’re aromantic?”

“Somewhere on that spectrum,” she confirms, and he just grins. “What?”

“I should have guessed. You had to be reminded of Valentine’s Day, after all.”

It is, Satine can admit, fairly funny.

Ben leans in to kiss her, his hand cupping her jaw. “I am absolutely going to allow this to fuel my ego,” he says against her lips. “I’m literally the only person in the world - regardless of gender - that Satine Kryze has ever been romantically attracted to.”

She groans. “Insufferable man.”

“Headstrong woman.”

She pulls her lips back slightly, still resting her forehead against his.

“But in the spirit of reciprocity,” Ben says, “I’d also like to give you a very early birthday present.”

Satine pulls back so she can properly see his expression.

Ben grins. “It turns out, interestingly, that I’m not bi - at least, not in the way I thought I was when I was eighteen.” He shrugs. “As to be expected, I still had a lot to learn at that age. I mean, I was right in my understanding that I am attracted to my own gender and other genders equally.”

She frowns at him. “What?”

He laughs. “Equally attracted as in…not attracted to either sexually. I’m asexual. Mostly.” 

Satine can’t help the look of confusion that crosses her face.

Ben just laughs again. “Emphasis on mostly. You, my dear, are clearly one of the exceptions.”

The pieces begin to fall into place. “So you’re biromantic and...what? Gray ace?”

“Those are indeed the labels that feel most apt.”

And he lies down again, his head returning to her lap, the magnolia bloom still resting behind his ear.

Satine rests a hand on his chest. “Can I ask about…”

He understands before she figures out what she’s even asking. “I experimented a bit in college,” he says. “There was one man, and - later - one woman. Both piqued my romantic interest, but imagine my surprise to find the sexual attraction was nowhere to be found.”

Satine traces his collarbone as he continues.

“I was celibate for many years after that,” he continues, voice low. A light breeze floats past them, bringing the scent of the magnolia blooms past. “It wasn’t something I really noticed, or even thought about much. My life didn’t feel different without sex. I just…didn’t need it. The next - and last - time I was with someone who wasn’t you was Ventress, of course. And that didn’t last, for reasons I’ve already told you about.”

Satine threads her fingers through his hair, and he closes his eyes at her touch.

“I haven’t dated anyone since you,” she says. “I thought I wanted to, but no one was really interesting enough to want to continuously keep seeing, at least in a romantic capacity. I had a few casual relationships, ones that both parties acknowledged were purely physical. They were nice, but that was all it was. And I also…” She smiles at how similar they are. “Like you, I didn’t find that I really missed that part in my life. I didn’t need a romantic relationship the way that my close friends seemed to need one, like how Breha felt before she found Bail.” She shrugs. “Before I learned that aromanticism was a thing, I just always assumed I wasn’t programmed the same way everyone else was. Which, I guess, wasn’t a bad way to view it.”

Ben smiles, his eyes still closed.

“We really are like mirrors, aren’t we?” he says.

Satine traces his lips.

“Yes,” she says.

She can’t help the smile that breaks across her own face.

“I suppose we are.”

[yeorisanaxox]

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ ➤ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇs

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴛ8 x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ, sᴏᴍᴇ sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ

sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ➬ ᴛʜᴇᴍ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇs

ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅɴɪ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs sᴏꜰᴛ ᴅᴏᴍ!ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ, ᴍɪɴɢɪ ᴅᴇᴀʟs ᴡ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴄᴀʀᴇ, ᴀss sʟᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ/ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ ᴘɪɴᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇs, ʟᴏᴡᴇʀᴄᴀsᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ ᴜᴘ ᴛɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴡ :,) ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ʜᴀʀᴅ ʟᴏʟ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ :)

ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ. You were trying to get dressed as quietly as you possibly could without waking up your boyfriend but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out where the hell you had tossed your damn pants the night before. Sure they had legs but they couldn’t just get up and walk off.

It had gotten so bad that you started checking in bizarre places like behind hoongjoong’s desktop and the little space between his headboard and wall but they weren’t there either.

Where the hell—

“What are you doing?” You jumped and whipped around to see your boyfriend sitting up on one arm. Not one wink of sleep was in his eyes, making you question how long had he been awake.

“I’m looking for my pants but I can’t find them…” you trailed off in your starting rant, noticing a certain glint in his eye and that’s when it clicked. That’s why he doesn’t look tired. Stalking up to his side of the bed and darting your hand out.

“Give me my pants.” You say with all seriousness.

“And why would I do that when this view is so much better?” Referring to you standing there in your panties. He teasingly bites his lip whilst reaching out to hook his finger in the band of them and pull you closer to him with one tug.

“How about you come lay back down and let me see you some more like this, and just maybe I’ll consider giving them back.”

sᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ. He probably wouldn’t have freaked out as much if it had happened at your place, knowing that sometimes yours and his laundry did get mixed up between visits. But because it happened at the dorms where any of the boys could’ve seen it. And just his luck, of course it was wooyoung who saw them.

“Hyung, I think you forgot something.” He turns and finds wooyoung skipping up to him with his hands behind his back. Did he? His laundry soap was sitting on top of his basket so it couldn’t be that. Did he maybe forget to empty the dryer fully? His face then flashes to something horrific at the sight of wooyoung holding your underwear just by the strap.

Never have he moved so fast, snatching the garment out of his hand, not without whipping him upside the head with them after.

“Ow!!”

“These are mine!” He spat stupidly, not thinking what he was saying. He was just trying to get them in the pocket of his sweats before any of the others saw.

“Since when do you wear—”

“You speak nothing of this. Nothing! Or else I’ll tell San it was you the one who spilt coffee on shiber.”

He didn’t even wait for his reaction before stalking off to his room, closing the door shut. Seonghwa let out a big sigh, pushing himself away from it and onto his bed where he then reaches for his phone and pulls up your contact to text you.

To y/n:

Found those panties you were looking for. You caused me quite the trouble. I think you should make it up to me…

ʏᴜɴʜᴏ. “What do you think about this dress, baby?”

Approaching him from behind, yunho puts his phone down to give you his— UNDIVIDED ATTENTION?? He gaped at the so-called dress you spun around in, the end just barely meeting your mid thighs and the material…well let’s just say, he could see your ass.

Out of nowhere, in your little fashion show, he starts laughing and clapping to himself, raising a frown from you.

“What’s so funny?” Folding your arms in offense. And just like that, he stopped, wiping his last fake tear before sliding forward to the edge of the couch with a more heartfelt tone.

“Baby. I can literally see your underwear through that dress.” He points at your rear, which you try and cover with your hands.

“You’re lying.” You scoff, ready to walk your way back to your room to see what he was talking about but his hand was quicker. Swiftly catching you by the thigh, he backs you into him and with the other hand, he grabs the end of your dress and pulls it up over the mound of your ass.

“Yunho!” You exclaimed and reached out in front of you to steady yourself on the coffee table.

“Yeah I can definitely see them now.” He chuckles darkly, sending chills down your spine as he fondled with one asscheek before delivering it with a hard smack.

“Bending over like this, anybody else would’ve seen them too…”

ʏᴇᴏsᴀɴɢ. The only time he ever really saw them was behind closed doors and that being just for a blink before tossing them somewhere on the floor.

So when you casually appear out of nowhere, walking up to him in one of his shirts and just your panties, he quite literally chokes on the water he was drinking and gaped at you as if you had grown two heads.

First of all, you looked stunning as hell in his clothes but seriously, what the fuck?!

“Are you crazy?!” He panics and hurriedly pulls you down into his lap, covering you both with some blanket that happened to be next to him.

“If one of the guys were to come back and saw you, I would never hear the end of it.”

Especially from wooyoung. God—He mainly wouldn’t let something like this go without endlessly teasing him about it for at least a month.

There then was a long moment of silence, the only source of sound came from the show playing in front of you that was long forgotten, that was till yeosang breaks it.

In the quietest of voices, you were still able to hear, “They’re really cute tho.” Despite his face being buried in your shoulder.

sᴀɴ. He’d usually knock before entering your bedroom when he knew you went to change but at the moment wooyoung wasn’t making any sense in his spawn of messages and on top of that, san’s phone was about to die.

‘Charger. Charger. Charger.’ Was the only thing going off in his head, almost making himself run into a wall because he was trying to respond at the same time that it didn’t even register to him that he had barged in on you until you let out a squeak.

“Oh—I’m sorry baby,” he instantly covers his eyes as if he hasn't seen you in your underwear before.

“It’s okay. You just scared me, that’s all.” Breathing out relief. “Good thing you’re here though,” your tone instantly switching to a more bubbly one. “What do you think about these? I got them for a great deal at the mall.”

He then removed his hand and looked as you gave him a little 360 of the new panties you were sporting. Cute and minimum coverage. Just how he liked them.

“So pretty.” His tone being soft while he reaches out to pull you in by the hip to get a better look. His fingers sneakily wander over the material and even more slyly pinches your cheeks, causing you to yelp and smack his chest.

To sum up the story, his phone eventually ended up dying so whatever it was wooyoung needed to say, it was gonna have to wait until he was done with you.

ᴍɪɴɢɪ. You were already long gone by the time he came back with a warm washcloth and a fresh pair of panties to clean you up with. All those times you teased him the following morning for falling asleep immediately, now look at you. He finally had something to get you back with. But for the moment, all he wanted to do is take care of you.

Gently, he spread your legs without waking you so that he could start cleaning you. Once he was done, he then shimmied on your panties, making sure they were comfortable sitting on your hips.

There. He thinks to himself, smiling suddenly at what he picked out. The red and green cherry pattern was in complete contrast to your purple bra that was peeking out over your tank top. So he may have or not picked them up just because they were cute but hey, at least you covered. That was his logic.

He pulls your strap back on your shoulder while also leaning down to press a tender kiss against your forehead, “I love you.”

ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ “wooyoung, please.” Bucking your jean-clad pussy into his hand, trying to get more friction. If you didn’t need him so badly and knew that you could make yourself feel twice as good, you wouldn’t even be putting up with his teasing. But the hard reality was that you couldn’t. And he knew that just as well.

That’s why getting you all worked up was more pleasurable for him. That if at any point he stopped, you were going to beg him til tears. He knew just how to get what he wanted from his little princess and exactly how to make her behave.

“So wet for me and I haven’t even taken these off.” He giggles in your ear, referring to the dark patch that was dead center of your crotch.

“Let’s see now. Can woo see?” He laughs again at your frantic nodding. His hands then work on the bottom of your jeans, popping it open before shimming them down your legs.

“My, my, my. What do we have here?”

Just as he expected. You had seeped right through your panties, which he couldn't help but notice they were the ones he bought you for Valentine’s Day. You only wore them on special occasions.

“You wore these just for me?” He cooes and grabs the top of them, and pulls them up so that the seat was rubbing right on your clit. You moaned loudly at finally getting some stimulation, basking in it as long as you can.

“We’re gonna leave these on. That alright?”

ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did you say yes to spending the night? You never spent the night. Not because you didn’t want to. Hopefully he never thought that for all those times you turned down his offer. It’s just that— spending the night meant sharing the same bed. And while that doesn’t seem too big of a deal, you were still nervous because you only slept in your underwear.

Sleeping was more comfortable that way and solely why you had always been afraid to spend the night. You didn’t want to weird him out with your little habit.

Sensing your hesitation to climb in the bed after him, he frowned as you stared at the empty space beside him in deep thought.

“Hey,” he reached out to touch your hand in a loving manner, drawing your attention from the empty space to meet his eyes.

“If you’re uncomfortable with this, it’s okay. I’ll sleep on the floor and you take the bed.”

“No, no! It’s not that. It’s just…” you take a long pause before letting out a defeated sigh. There was no other way to tell him at this point.

“I only like to sleep in my underwear. My legs get too hot if I’m in pants but I didn’t want to weird you out because this is your room and I have no right to do what I want—”

Mid rant, somehow Jongho managed to scoot closer to you without you noticing and pulled you down, shutting you up with a brief kiss.

“It’s okay, doll. You can sleep in your underwear if you want. I just want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

He gives you an reassurancing smile whilst gently squeezing your hand. You return one of the same before letting out another sigh and stepping back to shimmy out of your pants. Blushing instantly at the way he eyed your panties, “pretty,” was all he said as he pulled you down in the bed with him.

written by yeorisanaxox. No translations or reposting. Leave a like and reblog w [feedback is much appreciated] ✨

[anantaru]

ayato + a soul sucking blowjob

synopsis. ayato was tired, fatigued and frustrated. arriving home from work shortly after to get finally spoiled by you <3

cw. oral (male! receiving), flustered ayato, fem! reader

you can easily discern certain noises in your place, or specific emotions you feel when you hear them. serving as an illustration— look at when the quick chime of the door being unlocked sparks over your eardrums. what's more, you remember that it's like an unwinding lullaby to you, when ayato lastly arrives home after a long day at work.

the high-priced material of his shoes made a rhythmic click as he walked, which then echoed through the living room when the yashiro commissioner crossed the dinner table to walk towards the couch— nothing else in his mind other than the cloying anticipation to feel you in his arms.

each footfall was unevenly separated from the last and clearly indicating fatigue, no rhythm in them at all. you note that your boyfriend must be utterly tired from his long day, quite spent as he ultimately reaches over to greet you before adjusting his pants to sit down.

"how was your day?" you kindly ask, your smile rumbling with a welcoming affection as you place one hand on top of his muscular thigh, "everything ran smoothly... not to worry," the man assures you after a moment of hesitation.

if there was something entirely true about kamisato ayato— it's that his honesty towards his beloved would only include the details he deemed for you to be okay to know. you were aware of that and really didn't mind, although sometimes you wished you could smooth over the secrets he's forced to carry with himself and make it a little easier.

chewing briefly on his lower lip, ayato searches for your trace, his hands slowly slipping between your legs to rub over the inside of your thigh as he gently exhales through his parted mouth, the clouded sight on his face accentuating his immense attractiveness.

"you look tired, baby," you note, squeezing his thigh, a sensual chime melting on the tip of your tongue when you move as slowly as the petals of a flower opening, silently kissing his cheek before pointing towards the obvious tent in his trousers.

"or… do you want me to take care of this?"

"you— you mustn't trouble yourself with it, i—," ayato ponders out loud, glancing awkwardly to everywhere but your face.

he didn't even realize that he's gotten a little too excited to see you tonight. this hasn't happened in ages and only served as an additional indicator that there was more to the frustration inside of him than he originally let on.

swiftly, and with a touch of silk, you unravel every sharp edge of his strong bravado— and the tension rises beneath the layers of garments he wore, a slight hue of embarrassment catching onto his pale skin.

"i'm just so happy to finally see you, 'cannot control it, i apologize."

his pure admittance coupled with his flustered expressions burns into your heart like liquid gold as he laps over his lips softly when you smile back at him, ready to worship him as if you're born to savor this hallowed moment.

"don't apologize," you remind him, and in the split second that your hand feels over his bulge, every nerve in his body and brain was electrified— as the motion of your palm spoke of a movement coupled perfectly to itself, confident, focused and reverent, "i missed you too."

unhurriedly, you get yourself off the couch before settling in between his thighs, your hands coaxing out a shaky groan from him as you slid them over his legs before hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants, freeing him shortly after. at the feeling of his bulging erection being met with the cold air of the room, ayato whimpers, yet what actually made him lose his mind was when you took him in your hand, his glossed pre glazing over your knuckles and sending him into a heady trance. 

he feels how his balls were tightening when you slant your lips forward to spit on his cock, his body starting to ready itself for your warm, wet mouth before you're slowly dragging your tongue over the slit, the feeling of ecstasy coming through him in a controlled wave of pleasure.

in this moment, ayato feels like all the relief in his life settled in his stomach and his worries died down, all the times he had dreamt of you the entire day when he was supposed to be actually focusing on work— not the memories of last night where he had you draped over the mattress, stuffed entirely with his cum. the memories of the night still left him in a tremble, and how utterly beautiful you looked claimed in such lewd manner.

your hand wraps around the base tight enough to heighten the feeling of pressure and bliss on him, a choked rumble coming from above you as ayato covers his face with one arm while the other settles on your head. your hand firmly palms around the base of his erection as you began to gave his tip a tentative lick, never focusing less on how he was reacting to you.

the more inches you decided to swallow, the more you cam into contact with a rich, masculine musk permeating on your tongue at the first taste of him— ugh, ayato tasted so good, and he always took such good care of himself that you cannot help yourself but rub your thighs together, hoping it's enough to pleasure yourself on your own.

to make him further lose his mind, you know what you had to do and proceeded to sweep your tongue across the head several more times until his eyes would turn bloodshot from the little droplets of tears hovering on his pretty lashes.

oh well, he must be so tired, fatigued and frustrated. at the same time, suffusing into the loss of his mind and the hotness of your lips softly pressing into his shaft.

he cannot wait until you take him in your mouth.

which then, naturally you did, yet slow, encouraged by the addictive taste of him filling your senses as you take more of his length into your mouth. you bob your head up and down, the heavy tip of his erection nudging in the back of your throat as you let him guide you up and down with his hand, working the first couple inches of his dripping dick against your tongue until you hit your limit.

for what you couldn't gather inside your wetness, you let your hand make up for the rest, finding a comforting pace as ayato grew so absorbed in watching you please him, it's almost as tasteful as feeling it in the first place.

just how obediently you let him feel around your mouth as his fingers slide through your hair— he hopes he manages to turn you soaked by the end of it, so he mustn't prepare you any further and can sink himself inside of you much quicker.

you lift your eyes to meet his delirious half-gaze before you hollow your cheeks, pulling back with a soft popping sound and a faint rush of adrenaline.

"you enjoying yourself?" you coo devilishly, then cock an eyebrow that destroyed all its softness within your triumphant gaze, "very much so," he smirks back.

boldly, he hides between the beautiful implications of a clouded expression hovering all over his facial features, when in reality, ayato has already planned out the entire night for you two.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[merchelsea]

i can take it — logan sargeant

pairing: logan sargeant x girlfriend!vowles!reader

summary: she finds out about what her father (her boyfriend’s team manager) has been doing to him.

author’s note: i know it has all been denied by logan himself but i wanted to do it anyways. DO NOT TAKE IT AS A FACT OR TRUE EVENT.

word count: 1k

warnings: idk if there's any cursing, not proofread, sad logan, kind of daddy issues (?)

masterlist | requests

you were at home, laying down on the couch watching a show while you waited for hunger. everything you had to do was already done and dinner was ready, but you weren’t hungry to eat it.

you were tired, tho. you could easily go to sleep right now, but you knew better than to go to sleep without eating first.

that was when your phone started to ring and your best friend’s name appeared on the screen.

you stopped the show and picked up the call, putting it on speaker.

“hi?” you stretched your body on the couch.

“hey, have you talked to logan recently?” she asked, going straight to the point.

you could notice in her voice some kind of worry.

“hm, yeah… why?”

“and your dad?” she asked again.

“what? no, not really.” you answered, not sure about what was going on.

“open up twitter, babe.” her voice sounded alarmed. “i think you might want to do this on your own, i’ll hang up now.”

you simply hummed a goodbye and started to see the panic on your twitter mentions.

everyone knew about you and logan by now, so you were not surprised with all the tags from his fans, but it seemed like they needed explanations on a certain allegation.

“what the fuck?” you screamed as you saw the caption of a podcast, your mind going red immediately.

it’s like you were only capable of feeling anger.

that’s when you threw the blanket you had over your body away and got up. not caring about your clothing, that was just a pj, you got to your keys and left the house.

getting in your car, you drove as fast as legally possible to get to your father’s office.

while driving, your mind recalled everything you had learned about your boyfriend’s situation in williams.

a friend of a friend of logan told on a podcast that your boyfriend wasn’t even having fun in the team anymore. that was happening because of your father. apparently, the older vowles wasn’t giving logan the feedback he needed anymore and they were not on speaking terms.

you know how you say good morning to everyone? yeah, not even that.

you were more than pissed about all of this. you could understand that your father no longer had faith in logan, you did not agree with him but you could comprehend. but not even speaking to him? this was another level of childishness.

you got to your dad’s office in a matter of minutes and immediately asked to talk to him. you were told to wait, but, impatiently, crossed the building until you reached his room on your own and didn’t even bother to knock before going in and slamming the door behind you.

“what the fuck is this about?” you threw your phone on his table, an article opened.

“what?” vowles asked, a puzzled expression on his face. he started to read and his expression went from confused to worried in mere seconds.

“you are using silence treatment on logan?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. he sighed as he supported his head with his hands. “you can not do this to a driver”

another sigh.

you wanted him to say it was all a misunderstanding, that maybe this person was wrong or even lying. but you were just hurt when he spoke again.

“oh… this.” he finally looked up at you. “what do you want me to do? pretend i’m proud of the american like i don’t regret having him in my team?” all you wanted to do in that moment was punch your father in the face. it was so not fair.

“you’re being childish.” you pointed out.

he angrily looked over at you, as if you were in the wrong. as if he was the one who had to explain how you were wrong and why.

“he’s not talented enough for f1, y/n.” you were already angry, but when you heard your own father talk about the man you loved that way you completely lost it.

you could not care less about how loud you were being. maybe it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but calling your father and imbecile felt pretty damn good.

“how the fuck is he supposed to deliver good results when he doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on?” you asked, honestly waiting for an answer before you started speaking again because the man in front of you was speechless. “the car isn’t good and the team isn’t good. you’re ruining it even more. he is talented and you know that, you just want to blame him for YOUR OWN mistakes.”

everything you had been holding in for some time, just because he was your father, was finally out. it should feel better than it did. you should feel way better than you did.

“that’s not true. and you should be ashamed of your little boyfriend for spreading things like this around.”

you couldn’t comprehend where this attitude came from. i guess you could really see how money changed people.

this was not the man you looked up to. this was not the father you wanted to be like when you were younger. and you had no problem of saying to his face that he had failed as a father.

“if there’s anything i’m ashamed of, is being your daughter.” you heard him start to complain, but you're already out the door when a proper word came out of his mouth. you rushed outside, too tired to fake smiles to people around you.

you needed to find logan. that was the only thing in your head.

tears already filled your eyes when you started the car, and you couldn't see properly, because of them, the whole way.

but you never gave in, none of them fell from your eyes until you were at his door and he looked at you, worry stamped on his eyes.

"hey? baby?" his hands rushed to the side of your face to make you look at him.

you couldn't help but notice how selfless he was. that made your heart sink. the way he always worried about other people first, even when he is in the worst position possible.

"i hate you." you let out, in a cry, and let your arms circle his body, pulling him to yourself.

logan let go of your face to pull you inside, and closer to him. he was as confused as one could be. and the circumstances he was put in during the day did not help him.

"baby, please tell me what's going on." he asked once your grip over him loosened and he could look at your face again.

"my dad..." logan's heart skiped a beat. he knew the older vowles disliked him, but he never thought he could actually put himself between you and logan. he was desperate to know the rest now. "what he's doing to you, that's so not right. so not fair." you finished, and heard your boyfriend let out a relieved sigh.

he was actually happy that it was about the whole williams situation, and not your dad poisoning your mind.

"baby." the driver starts, but his face tells you he doesn't regret not telling you. that doesn't anger you, like you thought it would. it actually makes you fall in love with him a little more.

"you never said anything, you stupid american." he couldn't help a chuckle at the nickname and you punched him in the chest. he realized just how serious you were about this and guilt rose in his chest.

"i didn't want you to worry, y/n."

his blue eyes were a little darker because of the lighting but you could still see the pain in them.

formula one was his dream as a kid, as a teenager and as an adult. he fought like hell to get there, and even when things got tight, he never gave up. you knew all about the financial struggles that would've ended his dream if it wasn't for williams.

they noticed his talent and helped him get to better categories of the sport he loved so dearly. and the boy? he loved that team and was so thankfull for them that it actually hurt you. your father actually helped ruining his path at formula one and still, that boy stood loyal and helped the team and his teammate in everything. standing by their calls and decisions even when they jeopardized his races.

"logan, i should've known about this from the start." you knew you could've done something for him if you knew about the situation sooner. maybe if you had talked to your dad, bringing some sense into that old head of his. anything but let this circus keep going until it reached this point. "what they're doing to you... it's so unfair."

"but i can take it, love." he smiled softly at you and you almost felt the urge to punch him. how could he think so low of himself that he didn't see how much he didn't deserve that treatment.

"i know you can, the thing is you shouldn't have to. let alone go through it on your own." you said in a higher voice, capturing all his attention. "logan do you realize that you're not having fun racing? you said it yourself." tears were no longer falling out of your eyes, and the ones on your face were starting to disappear. "you have loved this sport ever since you were born, and they are ruining it for you."

"i know that." he almost screamed. he was quick to apologize with his eyes, but you couldn't care less about the tone he was using. you wanted him to be angry, you needed him to let everything out. "i hate it all, y/n. but it's my dream to be where i am today."

"i know, logan. and that's what makes me more upset. their ruining your dream and you're smiling through it, letting it happen."

"i'm not 'letting it happen'." he said, hesitating a little. "i'm just... maybe if i did things a little better, i would not be in this situation but i didn't. and i have to deal with it." your expression softened and you let out a sigh.

"it kills me that you think that this is your fault." he started tearing up and you pulled him to yourself. he hid his face in your neck and you gently stroked the back of his head. "it's not your fault, baby. you are doing amazing for someone with so many difficulties."

you took your time in each others arms, calming down while feeling the touch of the person you loved.

"i'm sorry that i never told you. but it's your dad and i needed you by my side." he pushed himself back to look you in the eye. "i don't know if i could do it without you."

you were still not over everything he had told you, and would definitely come back to the topic sooner, but right now what mattered most to you was that logan felt loved and appreciated.

he was already going through a lot, and it killed you to see the man you loved like that.

"you will never have to worry about that because i'm here, logan. and i love you, always."

with his face in your hands, you leaned closer and peck his lips. that's enough for him to remember everything he was fighting for. he had to fight for himself. and with you by his side, he believed it was possible.

"i love you too, always." he leaned his forhead against yours. "thank you."

[flamingoofeathers]

VK GONE SOFT || J. HOOK

pairings: james hook x mermaid!reader

part 2 of 𝗔 𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧

summary: Uliana finds out the big secret and goes crazy.

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

one shot; wc: 1.7 k

main masterlist j.hook masterlist

a/n: here’s part two of the james hook x mermaid!reader, that i didnt expect to get any attention at all, so i wanted to THANK EVERYONE who read it and left a like, i really appreciate it and it gives me motivation to write. I hope you enjoy this one too!

The morning after Castlecoming was spent in Hook's dorm after they had gone back there after the dance and cuddled all night long.

Hook woke up before Y/n, stared at her with so much longing and love, yet sadness for the girl. He was worried about what's about to come, he knew that the word of his infatuation towards a certain royal would reach the whole campus, then reach Uliana, but for now all he cared was the girl wrapped in his arms, dressed in his pj's, his love, his princess, his y/n.

A small groan was heard from the girl, slowly opening her eyes and smiled when she saw her boyfriend staring at her “good morning” she rasped before snuggling back into his chest.

“morning, darling” Hook caressed her head before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

They stayed in silence, both dreading the moment they need to talk about what had happened between the two of them even if they didnt want to.

“So-“ Hook got caught off by the ear-deafening scream from outside the dorm.

“HOOK!!!”

Hook sat up immediately and grabbed the girl, pushing her towards the door “you need to go, y/n, now!”

Y/n stumbled, confused “what? Are you going to hide me again, James?” Y/n said getting madder, she thought that after what happened last night, they would be alright.

“I promise you, my love, i won’t, you know how Uliana is, i dont want you to get hurt” Hook pleaded to her as he opened the door and lead her out right as Uliana was rushing down the corridor with the rest of the Vk’s rushing from behind her.

“YOU!!” Uliana yelled pointing at Y/n.

“Go. Go! I love you” Hook kissed her cheek before urging her to run away.

“YOU! I SAID STOP” Uliana was about to run after her, but James blocked her way “you got a problem with her, you talk to me, yeah?” James said getting in Uliana’s face with a menacing glare.

Uliana was lost for words, cuz how dare he talk back to her.

“J-james, i’m sorry, we tried to stop her” Maleficent said out of breathe as she and the guys caught up to them.

“It’s fine, Mali, thank you though” James smiled at her “but we need to talk alone” he sighed as he entered his room, staring expectantly at Uliana to enter.

Uliana rolled her eyes before begrudgingly entering the dorm, slamming the door close.

“What were, no, what ARE you thinking, Hook!? Dating a royal!?” Uliana was livid, for a reason even he doesn’t know.

“Why? Why does it matter to you?” James sighed, already tired of this conversation.

“WHY!? SHE’S A ROYAL-“ Uliana got cut off.

“AND!? SO WHAT IF SHE’S ROYAL!? HMM!?” James yelled back

“YOU’RE A VILLAIN, HOOK, YOU’RE VICIOUS, YOU’RE CRUEL AND MEAN” Uliana reasoned.

“AND I AM! Just….just not with her” Hook’s voice got softer at the mention of the girl he fell in love with.

Uliana scoffed “You’re pathetic, Hook. Going all soft for that pitiful little mermaid”

“Dont. Don’t talked about her like that, when 𝘺𝘰𝘶-“ hook scoffed “you’re just 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 and 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 of Ursula, why? Because you’re weak and powerless compared to her. If anyone here is pathetic and pitiful, it’s 𝙮𝙤𝙪.” Hook provoked while Uliana just stared at her friend with a shocked look on her face.

“It’s her or us, Hook.” Uliana said in a tight voice.

“Get out.” Hook said opening the door.

“Her or us!” Uliana yelled.

“You know the answer to that. get out.” Hook rubbed his temple, he can feel a head ache coming.

“You really are useless” Uliana scoffed before stomping her way out the room.

After getting, basically, pushed out of her boyfriends, or at least she thinks her boyfriend, she doesnt know anymore, she walked back to her dorm.

She dropped to her bed, confused about everything that had happened, when a knock was heard. She stood up, opening the door only to be pushed back in by a pink and blue hair.

“Y/N! OH MY GOD!!” Bridget screeched as she grabbed the girls arms and shook it continuously.

“YOU AND JAMES! WHATTTT! THATS CRAZY” Bridget was overly excited while Ella on the other hand was just awkwardly smiling at her.

“YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER” Bridget was jumping up and down with Ella trying to stop her.

“I’m sorry about her” Ella apologised, as she got Bridget to calm down as much as she can.

Y/n startled by what had occurred waved it off “no no, uh, dont worry about it and i’m sorry, you know, for dating one of your bullies-“ Bridget cut her off.

“Oh no, they don’t bully us, they’re just messing around” Bridget brushed off like the nice person she is, meanwhile Ella just stared at her flabbergasted.

“What she means, is that, you don’t need to apologise, you can’t control what you feel, i should know, i never thought i’d like a royalty but here i am” Ella said blushing.

“Oh, right! Congratulations to you and Charming, you guys make such a perfect couple” Y/n said, remembering the cute couple.

“Thank you, but as i was saying, he might be mean to us, but as long as he’s good to you, then that’s all that matters” Ella said as Bridget rushed to hugged the both of them, startling the both of them.

“OHHHH! YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTEEEE!” Bridget squealed as she squeeze the two girl.

When they pulled away, y/n took her hand into hers “You’ll find that perfect someone for you too, Bridget” y/n said with pity, because she knows how much the girl wanted someone.

“Don’t worry about me, y/n!” Bridget said, still cheerfully and just then door creaked as a figure emerged, It was Hook, who stood awkwardly at the door, he wasn’t expecting to see Ella and Bridget.

“Umm, you know, we should go” Ella said noticing the sudden tension, pulling Bridget with her who said “oh my god, you’re so cute together” before the door closed behind Hook.

There was a beat of silence before Hook broke it.

“Well, Bridget seems nice” he said hesitantly.

“Are you serious?” Y/n said shocked.

“I always thought she was just annoyingly positive” Hooks said explained.

“Yeah well, you would know if you actually talked to her besides making fun of her and Ella, but what do you want, Hook.” Y/n said with a hard voice as she walked towards her bed.

Hook set down the girls dress she had left there last night before kneeling down in front of the seated girl.

“Please don’t call me that, anything but Hook” he pleaded but the girl just stared at him with the same annoyed expression.

“I talked to Uliana” he explained.

“And?” Y/n said.

“Well, i guess, we’re not friends anymore” he let out a small chuckle.

“What!?” The girl said shocked “why?”

“She made me choose between you and them, Y/n” Hook said confused at the girls reaction, he thought she’d be happy.

“And…you chose me?”

“I would 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 choose you, my love” Hook said before kissing the back of her hand and the girl lets him.

“But-“ the girl was confused, so so confused “just the other day, you were ignoring me, for gods know why”

“I was a coward, ok? The day i was supposed to meet you, Maleficent stopped me, apparently she already knew about us, along with Morgie and Hades, and they’re cool about it too” he smiled at the thought of his three friends “but Uliana didn’t know and she was starting to suspect something, apparently she’s been following me around for days before that, because i was acting weirdly and i was scared that if she found out, she would hurt you, so i distanced myself from you and it got her off my back, but 𝘨𝘰𝘥, was it torture to be apart from you, for so long, i missed you” Hook said cupping the girls face and brushing off the tears that started to fall from her eyes.

“You could’ve told me, James” she whispered, afraid that her voice might break “i could’ve handled her bullying”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t, y/n. I wouldn’t have been able to take seeing you get hurt” hook said desperately “but its okay now, because anyone who hurt you would come through me first, I don’t care anymore, y/n… i just want to love you publicly and now we can” Hook’s voice broke as tears of joy ran down his cheeks, y/n catching them before kissing him.

“Everything’s going to be okay now” Hook said to her lips.

Week’s has passed and the couple has never been happier, going out in public, sharing kisses in front of everyone, some might say that they’re worse than Jasmine and Aladdin but the two didn’t care.

There were a few of the rebels who tried to bully y/n when she was alone but Hook always arrived before anything happened. He soon found out from Morgie that Uliana was the one to send them to which Hook wasn’t even surprised. Although as time went on, the attacks soon lessened until they were left all alone.

What did surprise the couple was on one faithful day, Uliana approached them nervously with the rest if the VK’s behind her, trying to give her encouragement as she apologised for how she reacted and for the attacks she sent towards the girl.

Y/n forgave her as she noticed the honesty in the girls eyes but Hook was still skeptical of the witches behaviour.

Hook eventually forgave her and went back to being a VK.

Everything went back to normal but better. Y/n and Hook was finally together publicly and the bullying lessened, cuz they still needed to keep their reputation even if they only played harmless pranks towards Ella and Bridget.

Uliana was still weirded out to see the two but she can live with it.

They were living their best lives. Soon they finished school and went to college, relationship still going strong. It was a dream come true.

Their 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧.

[natailiatulls07]

He doesn’t want any other nurse

Charles Leclerc x female!nurse!reader

Summary - Charles has a habit of hurting himself so he visits the medical bay quite a lot which he doesn’t mind because his favourite nurse is there

Warning - Cuts, Crash, tripping over, medical centres, bruising

A/n - This was inspired by a character ai bot lmao

-

This was becoming a regular routine. And it’s not like no noticed, everyone noticed. Every other race, Charles would have to be taken to the medical centre in the paddock, why?

Because of her; one of the nurses who would travel around with the FIA as a nurse.

Like Zandvoort, Charles had crashed his SF-23 into the first corner.

“Charles, are you okay? Are you okay?” Xavier voiced through the radio, the race engineer could see Charles moving in his car.

“Yeah I’m good…I think I’ll go to medical just in case…” Surprisingly he sounded somewhat excited to be visiting medical, it was usually dreaded by the drivers.

So that’s what he did. He took himself all the way back to the paddock and through the paddock to medical. There’s was a small waiting room, Charles sat himself down excitedly.

One of the other nurses had come out to the waiting room. “Charles, I can see you now” she offered but he quickly turned her down.

“No thank you, um is Y/n here today?” The Monégasque asked eagerly. The nurse looked back through to the medical bay, and saw that Y/n was in fact treating someone who had fallen in the paddock.

“Uh she’s a bit busy at the moment…please I can help you” The nurse tried again to which Charles just shook his head again.

“I’ll wait…” His tone was blunt and straight to the point. The nurse just sighed, knowing there was nothing she could do to change his mind, before walking back into the medical bay.

-

I was just finishing up cleaning up a small cut on someone’s knee as they fell in the paddock. “There you go ma’am…take it easy on your feet” Smiling softly I walk the women out through the medical bay carefully.

I walk into the medical bay as one of the other nurse told me that a certain Ferrari driver was waiting on me and only me.

Knowing of his refusal of any other nurse here, I strike up a conversation with him “I heard you’ve been waiting for me”

His response is quick and almost impatient “Too long” I look him over and notice a few cuts but other than that he seems okay.

“Why?” I ask in defeat. The driver just stares me down.

“Because I wanted you…” Charles just picks at the skin around his cuts, going silent again.

“You do realise that there are more qualified nurses than me…right?”

Glancing away from his cuts up at me, Charles continues “Yes and I rejected them” He looks around the medical bay before meeting my eyes again. “Your qualifications don’t matter to me, I still want you”

As I treat his cuts, cleaning them up and putting some plasters on, I continue the conversation “I don’t understand…why me?”

He remains still allowing me to treat him correctly “Why not you?” Charles’ green eyes follow my hands as I work.

“Whatever you say…” Chucklibg softly before move to grab the plasters. After I finish fixing him up, I pat his shoulder “You’re all done…”

“Thank you” He mumbles before making his way to the media tent, feeling that bit more excited.

-

The two Ferrari drivers were in their teams hospitality filming a challenge video for the Ferrari YouTube channel. However, Carlos had accidentally tripped up Charles.

That’s how Charles ended up back in the medical bay waiting room, rejecting away any nurse until his favourite arrived in the waiting room. Y/n.

-

“Back again so soon Charles” I teased as I walked over to him, he was sat clutching his head.

Charles just offered me a tired smile. “Why are you so busy when I come in?” He asks with a grumble.

“Because…this is my job, I have to treat other people as well” I smile softly, laughing slightly. Reaching over, I inspect his head.

“What happened?” Asking him, I notice some bruising on his head just before the forehead.

“Carlos, le moromi, tripped me up” Laughing softly as Charles curses in his mother tongue. I move to the medical fridge, picking up a small ice pack wrapping it in a blue paper towel.

Holding to the bruising, I take one of his hand before putting it in place of mine. “Hold this here…” Once Charles is holding onto the ice pack, I take my clipboard “Do you feel dizzy, nauseous?”

Nodding his head, I start to worry before Charles speaks up “Only because of you…”

Crimson blush covers my cheeks, my face feeling flustered. “Okay Charles that’s not what I mean…I uh meant the bruising”

“Oh no but…can I ask you a question?” He looks up at me from his seat. I nod politely. “Are you single?”

Taken back, I am instantly taken back by his confidence. “Uh um yeah…being a nurse and travelling around the world with f1 is that ideal when it comes to relationships…” Once again chuckling quietly.

Despite his injury, Charles laughs along with me before speaking again “Can I ask you another question?”

Nodding my head again, I let me continue. “Are you busy tonight?”

My laughter continues with his questions. “No not really…I was probably order room service and then fall asleep to a chick flick…the usual” I blush at my obvious loneliness.

“That’s cute” My blush on deepens “Do you…um doyouwanttogoonadatewithme?…tonight” Charles just quickly mumbles, this makes it hard for me to hear his question.

“Pardon?” I ask politely and patiently.

The Monégasque breaths in hesitate before speak again, this time more slowly and clearly “Do you…want to go on a date with me?”

I just smile softly, yeah my blush is still there but I don’t care really. “Of course…”

“Oh perfect…I’ll pick you up around seven tonight” Charles is evidently more confident now that I agree to the date.

“I’ll see you then” Walking off to another patient, I feel his green eyes staring at me.

-

[maingh0st]

i know i'm not the first to say this, but the acolyte's cancellation has confirmed how tired i am of disney's decision-making when it comes to their content. i know nostalgia is the easiest way to a big payout, but we can only take so many spinoffs before the universe starts to feel too small. but then fresh content—content that's building on the canon by looking to old star wars lore while asking new questions—fizzles out.

it's the sequel trilogy all over again. we're promised something new, something that actually expands the canon rather than just recycling it, even bringing in concepts from legends, and then the rug is ripped out from underneath us & we're punished for ever caring about any of it. silly babygirl! palpatine was always the big bad (don't worry about the fact that this is thematically nonsense and not foreshadowed in any way), and rey isn't a nobody ("your parents sold you because they loved you"), and this isn't a story about how the force transcends human categories and dynasties (represented by a grey jedi force dyad between a legacy skywalker and a nobody orphan from a backwater planet, fulfilling not only balance between light and dark but also transcending the old to become something new). silly idiot!!! rey's a palpatine by birth and a skywalker by self-adoption and god forbid she create her own identity outside of these names our fans recognize. watch as she stands alone on a sand planet that has no personal significance to her, ending her arc almost exactly as she began. but look!! two suns! neat

i don't even know if fanservice is the right word. at a certain point, it just starts to feel like they're quaking in their boots at the thought of doing anything new. i had my gripes with some of the choices in the acolyte, but at least it was unique. it explored a new era and asked questions that star wars has only ever flirted with. like: what happens to the children who are uprooted from their homes at such a young age, yet can't find their place in the jedi order? how does one survive in a supposedly honorable system that nevertheless relies on the repression of some of humanity's most fundamental emotions? is it possible that an organization dictating exactly how one ought to interact with the very life force of the universe... could perhaps be faulty and shortsighted? what happens when the ways of that order clash with other cultures and worldviews? (spoilers: space colonialism). and that's not even to mention the ideas they play with re: the force itself (vergences! plagueis! force witches!)

i know not everyone loved the show, but a lot of people really did care about it. a lot of people, like me, were excited to see these new questions being raised. but forget it—the disney gods have decreed that it didn't hit some magical threshold of streaming hours or reach a "broad enough" audience in the two months it's been out. but don't worry guys. turn your brains off and tune in for the next spinoff 2 chewy 2 bacca

[koiiiji]

windbreaker characters & their possible love trope (part 2)

warnings : smut part with wooin but i tried to make it more sensual then sexy, prob fluffiest stuff i ever wrote, as usual it might be ooc, not proofed read on your own risk!!)🧣💞🦢

thank you all guys for 287 followers!!(i wrote when it was 260!!) i hope my works makes your day a lil bit better and set some mood. i really appreciate all likes, reposts and especially!! comments and replies, in love with @sugardollie-907 @hjunsjoy @cozyunderworld @dialoguestetatet and wildylisa but idk why i can’t tag((( and so so many other people who comment (but i swear this holy five lives rent free in my comment section and it such a blessing🙏🏻)

thank you to every-everyone who supporting me, my works, it’s so gratifying to come here and see all notifications about your feedbacks!! also want to say thanks to all wb authors who ever posted and posting!! another source of motivation and inspiration🫵🏻😌💋💯🎀

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

vinny - a friend’s sister. you were definetely dom's or jay's sister, and vinny was so annoyed by you in the first place. not because of your personality or you annoyed him directly, but you were that "genious" in your sport, and vinny unitentionally compared you to jay jo, who were gifted with talent from birth. he was angry or annoyed to the point of goosebumps, he didn't even understand exactly what he was feeling, but he understood that this was a very strong storm of emotions and he was fixated on you. honestly? when your brother watches your competitions or casually tells about your successes, Vinny records it in his memory and will congratulate you later(dom as an older brother will 100% hype you up, fight me. he would show his phone to hummingbird crew with tearing puppy eyes “look, my lil gremlin winning those competition of hers”🥹🥹)Vinny would rather die by biting his neck than admit his feelings to someone, so it happens accidentally, maybe your chat went further than congratulating each other on winning competitions or your calls to him to find out where your brother is hanging around today. but because you were tired after the competition, you fell asleep leaving the chat open and not responding to his messages, leaving him on read. not to say that Vinny was offended by you, he just snapped at you for 3 days in a row, refusing to respond to messages. you had to take the situation into your own hands and hold his hand after another training and talk. “ta hell you want?” he said, frowning down at you. “just to talk and clearly” - you explained the situation to him and told him why you didn't answer, but since Vinny didn't know how to apologize and he had certain trust issues, it turned into another skirmish. it was evening and it was unnoticeable how the clouds thickened and the rain began to fall, but it didn't seem to bother two of you much because you were standing and yelling at each other for a reason you both didn't understand. Vinny's patience had always been zero, but now it seemed as if he was on the verge of reaching another stage of rabies. while you were shouting at him that you didn't understand why he started this quarrel at all, he just exhaled irritably and unknowingly blurted out “FUCK! because i was worried about you!!” as the argument reached its peak, Vinny's frustration peaked, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and apprehension. yet, amidst the chaos of their exchange, a surge of emotion overcame him, compelling him to act on the impulse he'd long suppressed. with a sudden surge of courage, Vinny closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. eyes met, mirroring the intensity of emotions, as Vinny leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. the rain continued to fall, its gentle rhythm enveloping both of you in a cocoon of intimacy as you melted into each other's embrace. Vinny’s body pressed to yours, rain-soaked and trembling, as the warmth of the spring evening mingled with the cool touch of the rain. in that moment, amidst the soft glow of the night lights and the soothing patter of raindrops, time seemed to stand still. the world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only the two bodies locked in a passionate embrace. as your lips parted, a sense of relief washed over, breaths mingling with the cool night air as you savored the sweetness of the moment. in the gentle caress of the rain and the warmth of each other's touch, you found solace, knowing that despite the storm raging around two of you, they were anchored in the calm of their love. as you kissed beneath the spring evening sky, a sense of peace washed over them, the tension of their argument melting away with each tender caress. In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the gentle embrace of the rain and the comforting glow of city lights, they found solace in each other's arms, their love renewed and strengthened by the storm they weathered together.

wooin - fake relationship. he commited it in the first place. since his work wasn’t permanent and he was constantly on the move, hanging here and there, Wooin thought it would be nice to have something permanent in his life. he needed excuse to tell his family why he can’t visit them on weekends - his girlfriend doesn’t feel well. them asking him all this “start a family” questions? sorry, y/n isn’t ready yet. some unforeseen situations? oh, y/n can be his trusted person. something didn't go according to plan? he can rely on y/n, if it isn’t something too difficult or dangerous. as a substitute he will gift you something, or will took you somewhere, thanking you for being his backup. genuinely it wasn’t something like friends with benefits, no, you two clearly share a bond, but it was something on the edge, as everybody thought you were dating. and in fact all this acts, you being his backup, him giving you small gifts, taking you on dates, sharing a bed - it all feels more like a relationship. but you never had this conversation, after another hot sex you could fall asleep together, for sure, but in the morning one of you definitely woke up in an empty bed. of course, it also happened that you woke up together, but in the morning Wooin was simply unbearable, and more often it ended with too caustic jokes. and it was always on the edge, you weren't in a relationship, you weren't friends, you weren't strangers, you were all together at once. at some point, it started to get exhausting. you noticed it first, but Wooin started talking about it first... well not actually talk, but mutter in the crook of your neck… today’s sex was different, the encounter was filled with a blend of sensuality and intensity, both of you asserting your desires while maintaining a balance of power. you bite each other, when it feels like too much, but immediately kissing and licking bite place, each of you tried to get leading role while another didn’t let it happen. today, Wooin's approach was different - not sloppy, fast and erratically, but slower, more deliberate, his touch gentle yet his thrusts firm. you were suffocating in his arms, and it seemed to him that he was drowning in the smell of your hair, your moans, how you trembled slightly from his hands on your chest, hips and neck. Wooin burrowed his nose deeper into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily and sniffing your scent. it was intoxicating, that feeling when you were next to him, when his hands slid over your body, your soft sobs, how the emotions on your pretty face changed depending on his pace. now, with his whole body pressed against you from behind, one hand holding your hip, and the other between your head and the pillow, his palm rested on your collarbones. while he was slowly sinking into you, and you were smiling and almost purring with pleasure, he caught himself thinking that he liked your smile. he likes to spend time with you, he likes to use an excuse in front of his parents and call you his girlfriend. his. Wooin liked the idea of you being his. he liked you. along with these thoughts, his pace increased, now he was digging his fingers into your thigh, and the other hand slid to your breast, squeezing it a little harder. you were both lost in your pleasure as you moaned louder and louder, he pressed his nose harder into your neck, whispering something that you couldn't make out. at one moment, he lifted his head, biting your earlobe, and pulling it slightly towards him, in a burst of emotion, he whispered "i like you"*

kwon - stranger to lovers/soulmetes - for the first time it seemed like someone corsed you. you moved to new flat in different district of Seul and now it was time to transport your stuff from old flat. everything started when you recieved message from a men who drove the car with your stuff, saying that he is stuck on a street because there are some stupid cycling competition and usual road is closed. amazing, you already were so stressed and here some cycling competition, but thankfully in the evening you finally recieved your stuff, mostly some boxes, small and big. when you were about to pick another heavy box you felt that it seemed strangely light. when you rise your eyes you saw a young man around your age. you thanked him for helping and he turned out to be almost your neighbor, one floor above and to the left of your neighbor's wall. next time you saw Kwon Hyeok in evelator…and you two were stuck there…for 3 hours…you were about to meet with your friends and, as you learned later, he was about to pick something to eat in nearest market. week later you met him in random cafe, where you decided to have a dinner alone, the owner of the cafe came up to you, saying that all the seats are occupied, but since you are alone, there was an empty place, behind the bar, just next to a guy your age (the old man grinned and has obviously already married you two in his head) so when you sat down carefully and apologized for the intrusion, you recognized that it was Kwon. you ordered your food and few drinks, and had a nice time together. and after a month of such unexpected encounters, you began to suspect 2 things - either fate brings you together, or he is a stalker. thankfully when you ran into each other again in the same cafe and drank a lot more this time, you admitted that you suspected him, and he, in turn, thought the same - that you were weird stalker girl who followed him around, and in that evening you laughed together from many things. when it was time to leave he understood that you were so drunk that you couldn’t even stand straight, so he took you by the elbow, hugged you with his free hand a little bit higher than your waist and led you home. along the way, of course, you mumbled something about how you like one handsome boy and he seemed like not paying attention to you and probably not even interested and why you're still alone…and then, under the soft glow of streetlights, amidst the hushed whispers of the night, it happened. in a moment that felt both inevitable and surreal, your lips met in a tender kiss, sealing the bond that had been silently growing between you. in that stolen moment, amid the chaos of the city, you found solace in each other's arms, knowing that fate had finally brought you together as more than just strangers in passing.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

* i’m sorry, i don’t really know how to finish this part with wooin, as it already feels too ooc, it was more self inserted, like i was inspired by my latest situationship, bc i was in fucking same situation(it didn’t end well) , and it’s still kinda my roman empire, so i leave space for your imagination… if u don’t mind of course…🥹

[whorekneecentral]

A New Term

Professor!Mark Webber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: age gap (mark is in his 40s, reader is early 20s), taboo content!! - professor x college student, worried mark, sharing a cookie, suggestive behaviour from mark, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), bruising but in a sexual context, cum play, finger sucking.

Word Count: 2,379

Author's Note: mark always had professor vibes to me, he's so dilf.

merry smutmas series

--

You send your professor an email over the winter break and the man wonders why you’re still working, urging you to come out and relax like everyone else.

The end of semester assignment kept you up way past your bedtime, the one question kept you on your toes. Your hand passed through your hair while you searched through your email for your professor's email.

Instead of using your winter break to unwind like most of your classmates, you were cracking out assignment after assignment, trying to get as much done as possible - that way you can focus on the exams when you return from the winter break.

The tab open to send your physics professor an email.

Dear Professor Webber,

I hope you're having a nice winter break and I hope I'm not disturbing you.

I had a question regarding the final assignment you gave out prior to the break; the last part of the assignment doesn't line up with the rest.

I'm not sure if I'm misunderstanding something along the way but it doesn't seem to make any sense. Hopefully you can provide me with some clarification?

Hoping to hear from you soon and again, I do apologize if this was a disturbance to your break.

Thank you,

Y/n L/n.

You shut the tab, sitting there for a bit as you tried to go back over your notes and make sense of the assignment, hoping you could figure it out in case Professor Webber doesn't answer anytime soon.

There's a ping sound coming from your laptop, the screen lighting up as you get a response from your professor.

Dear Y/n,

You're never a bother, you know my email is always open to my students, especially one as sweet and smart as you.

I hope you're getting some rest during this break and not overworking yourself.

As for your question about the assignment, I've looked it over and I see that there are some errors, I will have to email the other students and let them know. Thank you for pointing it out but if you'd still like to go over the assignment, how about we meet up sometimes? Perhaps tomorrow around 4 if you're free? I'll be in town.

Let me know, please do get some rest at some point.

All the best,

Professor Mark Webber,

Department of Physics.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the praise, something that happens often in the presence of your favourite physics professor. You send him back a quick response.

Hi professor,

Thank you for the quick response, I promise I am getting some rest. I would like to finish up what I can over the break so I can focus on exams come January.

Tomorrow at 4 would be great, how about we meet at the coffee shop around the corner from campus?

Thanks,

Y/n.

---

Four o'clock had come and passed, you had been there since 3:30, working away on your assignment. You occupied a booth in the back, your laptop in front of you, backpack tossed next to you and your notes and textbooks scattered all over the table.

Your head was buried in your textbook, searching for a certain passage to quote in your essay. Mark had entered the coffee shop and spotted you in the back corner.

His hand reached over, gently prying the textbook out of your hand. The action startled you for a moment but you relaxed when you saw who was across from you.

"Hi professor," you smiled, closing the tab on your laptop. Mark smiles at you, "please, we're not in class, y/n. You can call me Mark."

You nod, "okay Mark." Your nose scrunched, making a face. "Yeah no, that seems weird," you giggled, watching as he shut your textbook and left it on the table.

Mark says, "have you slept?"

"What?" You asked him, confused.

"You look tired, I hope you're not overworking yourself."

"Oh no," you shook your head, "I'm fine."

Mark nods, "fine, if you say so. Let me buy you a coffee - or rather not, you seem to have already had your coffee fill for the day." He glances at the two empty mugs on the table.

There's a small smile on your face, "yeah perhaps coffee wouldn't be the smartest idea."

"Something else then?" He suggested and you hum, "maybe a chocolate chip cookie? oh and maybe apple juice?"

Mark chuckles, nodding as he slides out of his seat. You watch as he walks the counter, ordering what you wanted and  a coffee for himself before returning to the table.

You thank him, eating your cookie quietly as you searched for the pages you had written out with your assignment on it. You catch Mark staring at you, you figured it was just cause you looked frazzled or perhaps you had chocolate on your face.

You hadn't realized that the man was simply looking at you in adoration, you never thought that he'd see you in that way.

"What??" You asked, looking at him. You passed a hand over your lips, "is there something on my face?"

He shook his head, " no, you're perfect.. as always."

You smiled, cheeks flushed red. "Would you like a piece?" You held your cookie out to the man, assuming that he'd break a piece of it off but he leans over, taking a bite of the cookie.

Setting the cookie down, you take a sip of your juice and finally find the pages you were looking for. Mark listens as you explain your concerns to him, the man helping you sort through your issues with the assignment. Mark goes as far as to help you edit what you have so far.

"Is that all?" He asks, watching as you pack your things into your bag. "Yeah, that was it. Thank you so much for your help, professor."

"No trouble at all, sweetheart." He smiles, the two of you stand and head towards the exit. It wasn't until you got there that you realized the rain had come down.

You didn't live far from the coffee shop, about a 10 minute walk but you did happen to forget your umbrella at home that day.

"Are you walking?" Mark asks and you nod, "it's not that far."

"Please, it's pouring, y/n. Let me drive you home."

"I've imposed on your afternoon for long enough, you don't have to do that."

Mark shakes his head, "I cannot, in good conscience, leave you to walk in the rain. Let me drive you home, I'm offering so you're not imposing."

You give in, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you to his car. It's black inside and out, the leather matching the colour of the paint and the smell was beyond manly - exactly like your professor.

With your directions, he drives you back to your place. The rain pouring down on the car, the heavy rain drops make a sound as it hits the glass. "Thank you for the ride," you tell him, glancing over at him.

"Wait a moment, won't you? I'm sure the rain will settle in the moment. I don't want you to get your beg wet and ruin all your work," he says, the words coming out innocently enough.

You nod, watching as the rain drips down the windows. You feel something warm on your thigh, glancing down you see Mark's hand resting there. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, not noticing his hand slipping a bit higher.

"You know, you really should get some rest, sweetheart. Try and relax. You deserve it after all your hard work."

You nod, "I'll try."

He smiles, leaning into you as you look over at him. "Good girl."

The words hit you exactly where he expected them too, watching you shift in your seat. "Is something wrong, sweetheart?"

"N-no, sir."

He hums, a smirk playing on his lips as he moves closer; you can smell his cologne, the mint of his toothpaste, the coffee from not too long ago. Mark closes the gap between the two of you, his lips meeting yours.

As much as you enjoyed the feeling, you froze - your brain screaming no, big red letters flashing in your head but you ignored them.

Mark senses your hesitancy, pulling away from you. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's.." You pause for a moment, "it's fine. Do you want to come in?" You asked him, hoping he says yes otherwise you'd probably have to bury your head in shame.

Mark nods, the man following you up the stairs and into your apartment. "Sorry for the mess," you tell him as you unlock the door, stepping in to take your shoes off.

He looks around, confused as to where the mess would be. The place was spic and span, not a single thing out of place. Your apartment is decorated like one of those Hallmark movies, Christmas tree in the corner by the window, garland wrapped around whatever it could be, even the throw pillows on your couch were festive.

"Where's the mess, sweetheart?"

You nod towards the one singular mug that was on the coffee table, "I forgot it there last night."

Mark can't help but laugh. "That's a single cup, y/n. Most uni students live in shitty apartments with beer bottles and weed. This place is a palace compared to everywhere else."

You smile, walking further into your apartment. "Would you like something to drink?"

Mark senses your nervousness, resting his hands on your arms. "Relax, y/n. It's fine."

You visibly let out a breath, holding onto the man as he walks you to the couch. He sits you down, his hand now cupping your jaw when he leans down to kiss you.

"Will you let me help you relax?" He whispers against your lips and you nod, not having to think about it for once.

The clothes are tossed all over the living room, you’re leaning on the arm rest of the couch in your panties when Mark kisses you again.

The man drops down to his knees in front of you, your legs over his shoulder and he kisses down your calf, to your thigh before he gets to your pussy. You lift your hips, letting him take your panties off, tossing it along with the other clothes. 

His nose brushes against your clit, his tongue licking a stripe up your cunt. Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. 

Mark’s hand on your hip rocks you back and forth slightly, just enough that he can hear his name fall from your lips. “Mark- fuck, there.” You pull on his hair, getting him to do what he did again. 

The sound of his name rolling off your tongue was enough to make his cock twitch.

He mimicked his actions again until he could feel your legs shake, your grip on his hair tighter than before, his name strung along with the explicits leaving your mouth. 

Mark glances up, your eyes shut and your head tossed back and he can't help but smile; he’s broken you down to nothing but a whimpering mess but he wasn’t done with you just yet. 

Your cheeks are red when you see him sit up, the lower half of his face glistening. You also can’t help yourself when you pull him down for a kiss, tasting yourself on him. 

You two shuffle around a bit, still on the couch when Mark flips you over; face down, ass up as he settles before you. Your back arches, the curve of your spine evident when he comes up behind you, pushing back against him as you feel the tip of his cock against your pussy. 

Mark’s hand grips your hips, pulling you back against him. Your moans are muffled by the couch when you feel him stretch you out. 

“God, please Mark, like that,” the words tumble out, begging him for more as he fucks you. His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh. You can feel the pressure from his fingers, surely there were going to be bruises tomorrow. Your hand reaching under you, fingers barely reaching to rub your clit.

He pulls you up, his arm wrapped around your middle, your back pressed to his chest. His fingers dig into your side for a moment, squeezing you a bit. “Such a good girl for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear. 

“Mhm hm,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you. 

Between the angle you were at and his hand sliding down to rub on your clit, your head drops back onto his shoulder, begging him to let you cum.

“Mark, god- fuck, let me cum please,” you ramble out and Mark hums, kissing along your jaw, “mhm I'm not stopping you, sweetheart.”

He lets you drop back onto your arms, back arched for him once again. He feels you cum around him, the wetness covering his cock. It’s not long after, followed by a few sloppy thrusts, that Mark cums too. 

The tip of his cock brushing between your folds, spreading his cum all over your pussy.

He pulls away, smiling at the whimper he gets from you. His fingers replacing his cock, covered in his cum when you roll over, he sticks his fingers in your mouth and he doesn’t have to tell you what to do.

“Good girl,” he hums, watching as your tongue laps over his fingers. Mark pulls his fingers away, leaning down to kiss you. A mess of the two of you, not sure where one of you starts and the other ends. 

You lay there for a while, Mark on top of you, your leg tossed on his hip as his head rests on your sternum, one of his hands on your tit. 

"Next time you need some relaxing, you call me, okay?" He whispers, his finger dragging down your side.

You glance at the man, a raised eyebrow. "You just want to fuck me again, you dirty old man."

Mark laughs, "no, I mean yes but also no. I meant I'd take you to dinner or something, distract you from your work - but if you want to fuck, who am I to deny a beautiful woman like yourself?"

---

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[vxmpyree]

Angst comfort with jealous Nikto? Maybe some comforting Nikto?

friends to something ambiguous guys! friends to something ambiguous and a little heartwrenching! i love friends to will-they-won't-they! anyway sorry if this is kinda odd?? ivebeen in sick and fever dreamy the past couple of days I've worked on this

there's a new man on your squad. the upper brass transferred him from a different squad, citing an influx of inappropriate anger toward certain people.

and the moment he shows up, nikto doesn't like him. there's something about his dark, leering eyes that makes even his skin crawl. but what seals the deal for him is that he immediately goes to talk to you.

he's all over you, every day. he'll squeeze between you and nikto with his trey in the mess hall, pushing nikto out. the man visits you before lights out, stripping you of the little time you have to relax. but worst of all, you don't seem to mind.

nikto knows that this man isn't good news, but he can't point fingers without a good reason. that'd only alienate you further. he stays up for days, digging and digging, only to come out completely empty-handed. god, he must be good at covering up his tracks… or, maybe he just doesn't have anything wrong with him.

this whole ordeal pisses him off. he can't stop thinking about your cheeks warming when you talk to your new friend, and of you dolling yourself up before you see him. oh, nikto just wants to claw his own eyes out!

maybe nikto is just jealous… ah, no. he couldn't be. he doesn't get jealous.

two weeks into your newfound friendship, it dawns on you that nikto isn't hanging around as often as he used to. it's only ever the new guy and you, and if you manage to catch nikto around base, he's brooding and disinterested. you tire of this. you miss your friend-- you miss nikto. what happened to cleaning rifles together and dozing off in eachothers' quarters? you won't stand for this any longer.

it's late at night when you confront him. your spare key still fits into his lock, and you still have to lift the door to open it. he's sitting straight up in bed with wild eyes watching you. he never looks at you like that. nikto always knows when it's you, doesn't he?

you shut the door behind you with a soft click, taking care not to stir anybody nearby. your footfalls are light against the cold, hard floor, and they stop once they reach the side of his bed. he hasn't reached for a firearm or blade of any sort. maybe he isn't as mad as you believed.

you move to sit on the edge of the mattress. what should you say? you had a faint outline for what you planned on confronting him about, but the moment you walked in and saw those wide eyes of his, none of it seemed all that important.

your head turns to look at him. his face is hardly visible under the cover of the dark, but every little shuddering breath gets his point across. he's upset, deeply so, but he can't just say that. he can't just… talk to you. it's never that easy, not for him.

but, you've come to understand him; you know when nikto is upset. and this time, you know why he's upset too.

"…i'm sorry. you need a friend, don't you? i haven't been one," you whisper.

you want to hold him tight and tell him just how sorry you are, but he'd never let you hear the end of it if you did. you know by now that he doesn't like being touched very often.

something brushes against your fingers. they curl as a twitch rolls through your knuckles, but it persists.

it's his hand, his fingers. his scuffed palm moves to lay over the back of your hand, and his nails lightly itch your wrist.

maybe this is still salvageable. jealousy may not be the end of this.

[doctor-dusk]

𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

a private session, as he said.

warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 3.4k

part 1, part 2

it took me longer than expected. ngl that i've been feeling a bit discouraged and insecure about my writing lately and i've been putting off posting. anyway, hope you like it :3

you haven't stopped talking for a minute since alex got your phone number. like, for hours, going into the early hours of the morning sometimes. 

you found out he lived a few minutes away from you and was a bartender at a night pub, so eventually he had to be absent when he was on his shift. of course you understood, but you couldn't help but miss talking to him when he was away for too long, especially at night. you found yourself looking at his profile picture, or at the photos he sent you throughout the days. 

obviously, at this point you already had a certain level of intimacy, so he didn't see a problem in sending you some kind of spicy photos, for example, after the shower. oh, these were your favorites. you loved his toned muscles glistening with water, the fluffy towel wrapping around his waist, the marked v line. and of course, you loved seeing the outline of his cock in the towel. 

a was a tuesday night. particularly rainy, the wind was not violent and the news reported that it could last until the next day, but that doesn't bother you. you were reading a book peacefully on your bed when you felt your cell phone vibrate under your pillow.

you fumbled around the bed looking for your cell phone, reaching under your pillow to grab the phone, turning on the screen and smiling when you saw that he had sent you a message.

“hi baby, just got back home.’’ he texted you.

you smiled at the nickname. it was already natural for him to call you that, but you still found yourself giggling about it whenever he called you like that.

“did something happen?” you texted him back. he should be working now, since he had said he had a shift at the pub that night.

“the power went out at the pub because of the rain,” he explained in another message after a while. “guess i'll have to go back tomorrow to make up the hours. yay.” 

you chuckled softly. it wasn't like he didn't like his job, he just found it tiring sometimes.

“what are you going to do now?” you asked him. 

“well, for starters, i’m gonna take a shower and eat something.” he answered, sending another message afterwards. “but first of all take off these clothes. i'm so fucking wet.” 

“hey, that's my line.” you joked, imagining he must have laughed when he read it. and he did.

“cheeky. later i'll make you wetter than i am now, what do you think?” he suggested. you bit your lip.

“i’ll wait for it.’’ you texted back, swaying your legs up and down like a teenager.

“good. i’ll call you in 30 minutes. wear something nice for me, love ;)” 

you thought you were dressed appropriately for him. a cotton cropped shirt and a flared mini skirt. but you thought there's something missing. it wasn't "nice" enough for him.

you opened your closet and drawers, looking for some suggestion. you didn't even know exactly what you were looking for. 

your eyes landed on your underwear drawer, remembering that you had a pair of white knee socks somewhere. you didn't know if he would like them, but knowing him well enough, you could deduce that was worth a try.

you put on the socks, the soft fabric gliding over your legs like a massage, the hem resting right above your knees. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, flexing your leg and bending your knee to see how it looked. then you turned your back, looking over your shoulder to see how it looked from this angle. it wasn't bad. it showed off your legs nicely. he might like it, but if he doesn't, he'll be polite enough to ask you to take it off.

you made sure your door was locked, turning the knob twice as a precaution. once confirmed, you jumped on your bed, grabbing your phone. as if on time, a message from him popped up on your screen.

‘’ready?’’

‘’yep.’’ you texted, settling yourself in bed, lying partially between your pillows, your back resting on the headboard, your knee bent so you could rest your phone on it.

seconds later, a video call popped up on your screen, and you answered it without delay.

oh, as always, he was handsome. unlike you, he was standing, probably walking around his apartment, the position of the camera revealed that he was holding his phone a little too low. and of course, shirtless.

‘’hey love, i- fuck, no, no! wait a minute.’’ he said before you could say anything, leaving his phone in a corner, the camera focusing on the ceiling was all you could see now. you waited for him to come back, listening for some noises and trying to figure out what it was. seconds later, he came back. ‘’sorry, i had to put the neighbor's cat out. the bastard tried to steal my last slice of pizza.’’ 

you laughed at what he said. you expected anything but that. 

‘’how did he tried to steal your pizza?’’ you asked as he was making his way to the bedroom, turning off the lights on the way.

‘’he came in through my kitchen window. can't turn my back for a bloody second.’’ he rolled his eyes, entering his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘’you look lovely, baby. new necklace?’’ he pointed out. you looked at your chest, the silver necklace resting on your collarbone. you didn't even think he would notice that. but he was very observant, especially when it came to you.

‘’yeah, i bought it yesterday when i went out to shopping with my mom.’’ you answered and he hummed, his mouth was too busy eating a piece of pizza. ‘’although this isn't the necklace i was looking for.’’

‘’which one did you want?’’ he asked, his voice a little muffled as he was finishing the slice of pizza.

‘’your hand.’’ you answered him, causing him to cough almost uncontrollably because he almost choked on the piece of pizza. you would have laughed if you weren't so worried about him. “are you okay? i'm sorry, i-”

‘’no, no, i'm fine. wasn't expecting it, you can't do this to me, jesus.” he laughed after catching his breath, his face was a little red because of it. “you can't have my hand as your necklace if you choke me to death on a piece of pizza.”

“sorry, i didn't know you'd be so surprised.” you chuckled softly, watching him wipe his mouth with a napkin, throwing the paper in the trash.

“you just caught me by surprise, hon. you're not usually this forward.” he said. he was right, sometimes you were a little shy, even though you've done things that say otherwise. “by the way, are you wearing something nice like i asked you to?”

you nodded, adjusting your posture, getting into an angle so he could see your body when you stretched out your arm holding your phone in your hand, giving him a good view. he let out a low whistle, enjoying the view.

“no way, knee socks?” he asked with raised eyebrows as his eyes landed on your legs, making himself comfortable in his bed. it wasn't in a disapproving tone, by the way.

“yeah, did you like it?” you asked a little insecurely.

“hell, a lot.” he licked his lips, taking a look at you. “i have an idea, do you want to know what it is?”

you nodded eagerly. by the tone he spoke, he was certainly going to suggest something for you to do.

“take off your clothes. i want you in nothing but those knee socks. can you do that for me, love?”

the idea made your hair stand on end. you knew that eventually you would undress for him, but you didn't know that you would be so nervous about the idea and that it would be so exciting to be naked for him, wearing only a pair of white knee socks.

“you can take your time, baby. don't worry, i've got all the time in the world for you.” he reassured you, making you even more comfortable with the idea.

“shirt?” you suggested and he hummed in agreement.

“are you wearing a bra?” he asked and you shook your head. “good. i miss those nice tits of yours.”

you giggled, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the middle of the bed, positioning your phone so that it rests on it.

“is the angle okay?” you asked him, sitting with your legs spread on the bed. he could even get a small glimpse of your panties.

“amazing, baby. keep going.” he said. he didn't really care about the angle as long as he could see you and your body on full display for him on his phone screen.

you pulled your crop top up, pulling it over your head. the mere sight of your breasts on the screen made him groan, biting his lip as he palmed himself over his sweatpants, even though you couldn't see it for now.

‘’so beautiful. one day i'm going to suck those tits, mark my words.’’

you smiled at the idea. alex seemed like the kind of hungry man who could devour you if he could. and he really was. he wanted to mark you, to sink his fingers and teeth into your flesh, so that he and everyone else could see that he was the one who did this to you. he wanted to make sure everyday that you were his, that only he could see you like that and make you feel that way. 

you touched your boobs, adding a little more anticipation to the moment, your nipples hardening with the mere stimulation on them, your eyes rarely looking at him on the screen, focused on losing your shyness as you touched your left breast while your right hand went down your belly.

“the skirt too?” you asked him, tracing your index finger along the waistband of your skirt.

“everything.” alex answered, a minimally authoritative tone was noticeable in his voice, but you didn't think it was bad. it turned you on even more.

you shifted in bed, your fingers hooked on the sides of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, letting the material slide down your legs, his eyes watching every move without blinking, as if he would never see something like that again in his life. his hand tightened his grip on his cock, feeling that sooner or later he would have to take it out, such was the pressure inside his boxers.

“you have beautiful legs, love.” he praised you as he drank the sight of your semi naked body, the only thing that kept him from seeing you naked were your panties and knee socks.

“thank you.” you smiled, you liked it when he complimented you, even when it was something simple. you felt desired, in a way.

“you're nervous, aren't you?” he asked. he had never seen you in person and never lived with you physically, but he knew you well enough to know that.

“god, yes. i'm sorry, i've never done that.” you mumbled, closing your legs a bit so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

“that's okay, baby, you're doing so good. take your time.” he said in a reassuring tone, not wanting you to feel insecure or embarrassed around him. “just remember that sooner or later i'm going to see this pretty pussy of yours. and believe me, i'm going to gorge myself on it.”

you chuckled awkwardly, still feeling a bit insecure. he pouted slightly.

“hey, look at me.” he asked you, he couldn't just hold your face and make you look at him, so he expected you to look back at the screen, which is what you did. “don't worry about it. we're just going to have some fun, i want you to enjoy yourself with me, hm?” he spoke calmly and patiently, knowing he needed to be careful with his words.

you smiled, nodding in response to him. he knew how to reassure you, how to make you feel safe. you were in this together, after all.

you tried opening your legs again, your hand running over the fabric of your underwear, testing the waters as he swallowed hard at your actions. you touched your sensitive bud, feeling it contract inside your panties with the touch of your fingertip.

‘’mhm, that’s it. doing so good, love.” he said, his voice almost in a whisper as he stuck his hand inside his sweatpants, squeezing his cock more directly over his boxers, his thumb ghosted over his sensitive tip, leaking precum and staining the fabric of his underwear. 

he felt uncomfortable with this, shifting in bed to get his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his cock, the angle he was lying at made the tip touch his stomach.

“you're making me hard as fuck.” he moaned in a somewhat anxious way.

“yeah? show me.” you instigated him.

fuck, you didn't even need to ask twice. he angled his phone so you could see his cock, his free hand grabbing it firmly by the base, massaging it deftly, working his way up until he reached the head, pulling back the foreskin so you could see his glistening tip practically taking over your screen.

you leaned against the headboard, supporting your body weight there while your hands were free. one hand hooked your panties, finally pulling to the side, showing him your most intimate area.

“beautiful. just like i imagined.” he bit his lip, watching your fingers firmly grip the fabric of your panties like a real hook while the fingers of your other hand roamed the skin of your crotch, teasing both you and him. “god, i can already imagine myself with my face buried in this pussy all day.”

you giggled, you loved how vocal he was. your index and middle finger wandered through your folds in an inverted 'v' position, sliding up and down your labia, feeling your digits getting wet.

“'wet?”

“so fucking wet.” you answered and he groaned. you also knew how to tease him with words, his dirty thoughts getting the best of him as he saw you touching yourself like this.

“yeah? think i can shove my cock inside you without needing lube?” he asked you, starting to pump his cock faster.

“oh, you have no idea.” you said in a sly tone, moving your hands away from there only to pull the panties down your legs, discarding them on the bed among the sheets. and you were just the way he asked, completely naked, except for the knee socks. oh, that made his cock throb.

“god, you're so fucking hot.” he hissed, pumping faster, his fist closed so tightly that his tip was getting redder and the veins were getting more visible. “touch yourself for me, love. please.”

you brought your index and middle fingers to your mouth, thinking about it. please. he never asked you “please”, not that you remember. he always asked, in a polite but authoritative tone, sounding like a gentle order. but never added the word please. 

it sounded like he's begging you. and you liked it.

“please?” you repeated the word, wetting your fingers, bringing them down to your sensitive bud that was aching to be touched.

“fucking please…” he said in a desperate growl, his eyes fixed on your body as you tesed him furter, circling your fingers on your clit, the contact making you hiss. “feels good?”

“mhmm, so good…” you hummed, circling your fingers counterclockwise, the way you always did when you pleased yourself alone in that bed in your room. “i wish you were touching me right now.”

“don't say that to me or i might come out in the rain and climb in through your bedroom window just to fuck you.” he panted, making you imagine the scene, a small whimper leaving your lips.

“yeah? would you fuck me good?” you asked, moving your fingers down, teasing your wet and slick entrance, your fingertips sliding in with ease.

“so good, baby. would you like it hard and deep?" he asked you, feeling the pleasure starting to get the best of him, he tried to hold on as much as he could.

you nodded eagerly, sliding two fingers inside your tight heat. he watched as you buried your own fingers inside your cunt until reached your knuckles, withdrawing them just to repeat the motion. nothing had ever turned him on as much as this. he felt like a teenager watching porn for the first time, but it was a thousand times better. it was real, and it was for him. only for him.

“so be it. gonna fuck you good, baby. the way you deserve it.” 

his words entered your mind like a virus, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers went back and forth, coating them with your arousal. you couldn't help but vividly imagine him fucking you hard, his hips snapping against yours, his cock filling you to the brim as he squeezed your neck, calling you his little slut who takes his cock so fucking well.

“oh my god, please…” you whimpered breathlessly, your legs starting to tremble involuntarily, your head tilting to the side.

“are you going to come for me, love? you're so close, i can see it.” he hummed, watching you nodding, his fist was hurting, but he didn't want to stop, not when he was so close too.

“yes, yes, oh alex…” you moaned his name, making him grunt in response, his breath ragged and his body trembled, he could barely concentrate on holding the phone anymore, even though he doesn't want to miss a single second of you fingering yourself, chasing your climax.

“fuck, i can't hold back…” he almost whined, and you let out a satisfied smile, so close that you're already seeing stars.

“yes, fuck me, alex…” you moaned, and that was the last straw for him. he moaned loudly, his head falling back into the pillow as he came, making a mess of his own belly and chest, but he didn't stop, even though his senses were overwhelmed at this point.

as you watched him fucking his own fist through his orgasm and heard his whimpers, you followed him suit, cumming on your fingers, your free hand covered your mouth so you wouldn't moan loudly as the climax hit you, your trembling legs closed automatically around your hand as your fingers pumped and curled inside you to prolong your pleasure.

in the seconds that followed, all that could be heard besides the sound of the rain outside were the panting breaths as the bodies lay completely exhausted on the respective beds. it was so intense, you couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm that good, especially when you were touching yourself.

after a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“still there?” he asked. you gave him thumbs up and he chuckled. you needed a few more seconds to recover.

“yeah, yeah…” you mumbled, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out through your mouth. then, you lifted your head, looking at him. he was as broken as you were.

“it just gets better, princess. you're amazing, really.” he said. and he was sincere, you could see it. or at least he gave you enough confidence to make you think that.

“you're amazing too. you must be even better in person.” you answered him next. it was like you were having pillow talk after sex. the difference is you hadn't had sex. not yet.

“well, baby, i'll try to impress you. i have to win you over every day.” he chuckled, groaning as he saw his own mess, knowing he would have to clean himself up. “hate this part.” 

“i wish i could lick you clean.” you pouted and he pouted too, chuckling at your boldness.

“you always get feisty after having your orgasm, huh?” he questioned and you giggled, picking up your panties to put them back on carefully, your legs felt like jelly. 

“only with you.” you winked at him, licking your fingers as he sighed at the sight of you. he was quiet for a while, just looking at you, his mind working in different ways. “what?”

“i want to see you.” he answered after a few seconds of silence.

“you’re seeing me already.” you chuckled and he shook his head after letting out a weak laugh.

“no, i want to really see you. to meet you in person.” 

oh. now that was another level.

[railingsofsorrow]

summary: in which a phone call ruined your day.

... or not, because your boyfriend made sure to be there for you until you were okay again. pairing: s. reid x gn!reader

w.c: 2.1K

warnings/content: reader is reckless and puts themselves in danger (one time); angst; mentions of shutting people out; an argument happens but the fluff comes right after; case-related violence; reader is going through something but it isn't explained; mentions of past bad habits; be aware of spelling errors.

A/N: my finals aren't over but I forced myself to take a break for the night. thus, I'm posting this hurt/comfort blurb. hope you like it.

navi

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“you're mad.”

the day started good. you even got breakfast at home, which is something it almost never works out. but a case only arrived at around nine, so you had time to eat something before leaving.

spencer made toast, crispy, just the way you liked it. you sipped on your orange juice as he took his coffee, hand resting above yours in the comfortable morning silence you liked to partake in.

the day started good.

until things went south really quick.

it all begun with a phone call. not a work call, you were pretty used to those and when hotch called you up to the briefing room, everybody was already filling out paperwork in the bureau.

your mood went sour in a matter of seconds. you think you were able to desguise it from most of the team, though. except for spencer and maybe emily, because emily noticed every eyelash that was out of place, she couldn't even help it.

the news you got caused you to retract back to old habits, shutting people out and drowning in work to avoid thinking about it. you were numb, doing everything on autopilot, but you didn't let it compromise your professionalism. never. that fucking phone call wouldn't make you a bad profiler for a second. you wouldn't let it.

being numb lead you to be impulsive. and you took advantage of that. you'd jump straight into action just to avoid dealing with your problems. just to forget.

“i'm not mad.”

your boyfriend's tone was clipped, short. almost cold, but it didn't got that far yet. it took a lot to make spencer reid mad. but when it happened, and you were the reason, you were always conflicted on whether to let him cool off for himself, give him space, or beg for forgiveness right after you screwed up.

this time, you decided on the former. you don't think it worked that well.

the unsub had a gun pointing at a seven year old child. he was cornered in every way possible. police cars were still arriving at the scene, although five FBI agents aimed at the man, ready to shoot in case he so much as twitched a finger on that trigger.

anxiety ran along the bystanders as they watched it all happen in their neighborhood. you hadn't plan that, in fact, all of you had planned something else entirely. the profile was solid as well as the location and the unsub's endgame.

but people are unpredictable. no matter how hard you've studied the human brain. in certain circumstances, they would be capable of anything. including threatening children's lives.

your boss advised everyone to stay back. that they had it covered. it was only a matter of talking him down, carefully and with confidence.

but the second you heard the sob of that seven-year-old boy, you stopped focusing on the command reaching your earpiece. bulletproof vest and gun set aside, you marched forward, no ounce of hesitation. you knew what you were doing.

“spencer.” you followed him into your bedroom, a tired sigh leaving your lips as you felt your legs wobble slightly. you were exhausted. the day was hell both physically and mentally and you just wanted to take a good shower and sleep for forty eight hours. you wanted to forget it ever happened. you wanted to forget that phone call.

he didn't spared you a glance as he grabbed a pair of clothes to get into the bathroom. there was it. that coldness you hated. it was finally here. “spencer, please. can we talk?” you begged. if there was one thing that suffocated you was sleeping while upset. and your boyfriend was an elite grudge holder. you just couldn't do that tonight.

“of course.” he leaned back from the door just before entering the bathroom. an impassive expression across his featured as he turned to you. you wanted to scream at him. “you've been avoiding me all day, but you want to talk now? of course.”

okay. you deserved that.

did you though? why couldn't he make your life a little easier?

“sorry I was rude to you,” you said, holding back the petty comment wanting to slip out of your tongue. sorry I'm going through something and you're being an idiot about it. “i didn't mean to. I shouldn't have treated you that way.”

spencer's tongue poked around his cheek and you braced yourself for what was about to happen. an argument. in the middle of the night — morning, it must have been past two am.

“i don't care that you were rude the entire day.” spencer clarified as if that would make things better. “i care that you threw yourself in front of a psychopath with a gun, without a bulletproof vest and only your hands to work as a shield.”

“you had my back.” you insisted, recalling the moment the whole team started to shout at both you and the unsub. they were behind you, you had good coverage. “someone needed to talk him down.”

he didn't seem to be on the verge of snapping anymore. his shoulders were slumped. he was tired too. he was exhausted. it has been a long day and you needed to rest. you needed to sleep. you needed to forget.

it had started as a good day.

“we were doing that.” spencer mumbled, softly. he eyed your bitten cuticules, the bandage in your arm and your far away gaze. spencer wasn't stupid. he noticed things. he noticed you. he knew something was wrong from the moment you excused yourself to take a phone call in the middle of the case briefing. you came back into the room a different person. contained. robotic. strictly professional. “why couldn't you wait?”

“it was a child. he was scared.” you snapped, flinching away from him. “he didn't have time to wait.”

spencer pressed his brows together, deciding to not mention the time you did have to do what you had to do. statistics wouldn't help now. “you could have gotten shot in the chest.”

“it barely grazed my arm.”

“that's not the point!”

“and what is?” you yelled back, turning to him, fuming. “there is no point. the boy was in danger. you decided to wait. I decided to act. he's alive. I'm barely hurt. the case is over.”

spencer faltered, seeking something in you that he wasn't able to find. his gaze travelled accross yours in a desperate attempt to make you realise how stupid that single sentence was. one mistake. one wrong move. and you could have been somewhere else instead of in your shared apartment.

a bodybag.

“who called you?” you blinked at him, taken aback by the question. you expected him to blame you further. you even expected him to ignore you for the rest of the night. you would not back down. “i know something happened. someone happened. you're not... you wouldn't do that if you were thinking.”

“so because I'm impulsive one time, you're questioning my judgement?”

“when your judgement makes me almost lose you, yes. I am.” he crossed his arms, licking his lips as he studied you. profiled you. you fucking hated him right now. you wanted to rip his brains out.

“there was an entire team aiming at the guy, spencer.” you scoffed, pressing a thumb against your forehead, a headache brewing. your will to argue has vanished. you just wanted to sleep.

“you were blocking our aim.”

“can you stop?”

“no.”

you no longer had control of your emotions as your sight begins to be blurred by tears. fuck, I can't do this.

the room became silent. as if hearing your inner turmoils, spencer paused. he thought it through, any possibility that might have caused your sudden mood change. your impulsiveness. he thought he had done something, but by your reaction it wasn't that. it wasn't him.

it all shifted after that phone call.

you didn't retract when he approached. you didn't reject his touch or pushed him away. but you remained frozen, locked up in your own cage.

“do you want to talk about it?”

it had started as a good day.

you stood up, brushing your strands behind your ears and swallowing up the feeling of something permanently lodged in your throat.

you didn't turn to watch his expression faltering in disappointment. you didn't had the guts to see it.

“no.” you said. “i'm fine. I'm going to take a shower. I'm tired.” you left to your shared bedroom without a goodnight, knowing it would be pointless since you'd be sleeping alone tonight.

sleeping was a strong word. you closed your eyes, pressing your eyelids so tight that you're seeing stars. tossing and turning for around one hour in an empty bed was enough to leave you upset. the weight of the day and the argument you had with your boyfriend taking a toll on you.

maybe you hadn't been fair to spencer. it's not like he did anything to force your sudden mood change; he had absolutely nothing to do with it, actually. he wasn't responsible for that phone call, he wasn't the person at the other line whose voice you didn't want to hear ever again. he was just the one at the receiving end of your irritability.

your boyfriend, he wasn't one to pry. to force you to speak of things that made you uncomfortable. things you weren't ready to discuss yet. he was the kind of person who would ask if everything was alright and he would make sure you knew you had a shoulder to cry on and a ear to vent if necessary.

spencer was caring and respectful. he knew you needed space just as he did at some moments. so much so that he wasn't sleeping on the couch because he was mad at you — though you had been rude for that to be case — but because being around him, or anyone for that matter, would only set you off.

his curled up frame on the couch, half covered by the blanket and half uncovered to the night air. curls splattered around the pillow he stole from your bedroom when you were still in the bathroom. you wanted to bury yourself into his arms and never leave him again. you wanted his warmth all over you.

standing on the entrance of the living room, you watched his eyelids move incessantly. it was what told you he wasn't in a deep sleep.

he was pretending to be sleeping and you knew he was aware of your watchful eyes.

“i'm sorry.”

you mumbled into the uncomfortable silence, scratching your arm beneath the bandage in nervousness. shifting into your feet, you contemplated approaching him, but remained in the spot.

he peaked at you as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. he moved to a sitting position, outstretching a hand in your direction. an invitation.

“c'me here.”

you didn't need to be told twice.

“i'm sorry I was rude to you, I didn't mean it. you were just there and I—” he shushed your ramble with a kiss to your temple, arms squeezing you against him the way you craved in bed a few minutes ago. “i'm sorry, spencer. please don't be mad at me.” the last part you let out in a soft whisper but it only made him pull you closer as a form of comfort, to erase the pain you were feeling.

spencer cupped your cheeks so you would look at him “i'm not mad.” he promised, thumb grazing your face lovingly. “i just thought you needed space, but I promise I'm not mad, okay?”

you nodded with your lips trembling slightly. you were fairly certain that if you were to speak anything right now you'd burst into tears immediately.

you did manage to let out i don't want space, I want you. because it was all that you needed right now. always.

he kissed every teardrop that slipped out after that, bringing you closer to lay on his chest as he rested his back against the arm of the couch.

“i'm here, baby.” he whispered, fingers dancing across your arms. “always.”

you turned on his hold to be face to face with him, lifting one hand to touch the side of his face, caressing his jaw where you felt the growing stubble on his chin.

“thank you.” you said, smiling faintly when he pecked the tip of your nose.

he ended up covering the both of you with the spare blanket.

he breathed out as if pretty satisfacted with your current position, even though you both will most certainly be complaining of backache as soon as you wake up tomorrow. “i love you.” he let out, not minding about the pain in his joints in the morning. the only thing that mattered was you in his arms, safe and sound.

the day started good, until a phone call ruined it completely.

or not. because spencer was there and he kind of made things bearable. and if he could just make you feel better for a little while, that's what he would do.

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taglist: @lilyviolets

[niiwa-angel]

How the adult superheros hold their kids!!

Batman: Robin clings to his back under his cape. It happens so much he puts a connector on his back so Robin can attach himself if he wants to sleep like that. He doesn't want to drop his kid and not realize till six blocks later.

Flash: piggy back. Kid Flash or later, Impulse will come up to him with the puppy dog eyes like "my legs are tired 🥺" and then he's carrying them around on his back. Sometimes they don't even ask, they just hop up and know that Flash will go with it. A reporter catches Kid Flash doing it once and it becomes everyone in Central City's favourite video.

Wonder Woman: side hold. Wonder Girl doesn't often need to be carried but when she needs to or wants to, that's how they do it. Out of costume, Diana will give Donna a shoulder ride but usually only if they need to reach something really really high up.

Green Arrow: princess hold, exclusively because Speedy does not like to be carried. He's a big boy, he can walk. The only time he doesn't pitch a fit about being carried is if he's hurt.

Green Lantern: wills up a baby harness. Space flights are long and Kyle is a Baby, sometimes he needs a break. It's funny when Hal gets confronted by an enemy while he's got Kyle on his back though.

Sinestro: Hal Jordan! I am here to kill- what the hell are you wearing?

Hal, with baby Kyle sleeping on his back in a harness: it's my ass kicking outfit!

Aquaman: Garth hugs him and will not let go. It's partially an instinctual thing, Atlanteans usually co-sleep with their children until they reach a certain weight because until that point, the underwater current will carry them away, so Garth and Arthur are used to Garth just holding onto his Dad mentor like that. They continue it when they start fighting on the surface.

[theemporium]

the ending is a wee bit rushed but it was getting long so here is a random wyatt blurb, enjoy!!🫶🏽

.

“This is a stupid fight, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“I know, but I am giving it.”

Wyatt paused, lifting his head enough to see Tyler grinning at him, all big and boyish and shit-eating in a way that made the younger boy sigh a little. He was hoping the practice session would run by fast, that hockey would be a nice distraction. 

He was naive for thinking as much the second Tyler got wind of the (arguably stupidest) fight he had with you the previous night. 

“I am just trying to share my wisdom with the youths,” Tyler insisted, leaning against his stick with no care in the world about the drill they were supposed to be setting up for. “You know, be a good mentor and stuff.”

Wyatt frowned. “Pavs literally told me to never listen to a word you say off the ice.”

Tyler beamed. “But we are on the ice.”

“It’s none of your business,” Wyatt eventually huffed, telling himself his cheeks were burning because of the warm up and not because of the conversation. 

“Johnny, kiddo, it’s literally my job to be in other people’s business,” Tyler snorted, using his stick to knock the puck Wyatt was currently fiddling with until it was too far for him to reach anymore. “I’m serious. Are you really annoyed with her over a hypothetical?” 

Wyatt’s cheeks burned even more. “Not when you say it like. There’s more to it.”

Tyler raised his brows. “Just because she picked Roope?” 

Wyatt sighed heavily.

“Johnny,” Tyler said, sounding like a tired father—which, if Wyatt was being honest, was a little off-putting when it was coming from Tyler Seguin of all people. “It was just a funny scenario.” 

“But she chose him over me!” Wyatt huffed.

“The question was who she wanted to swap wardrobes with,” Tyler deadpanned.

“And she chose him!” He repeated. 

“You practically live together,” Tyler added, still blunt as before. “She already steals shit from your wardrobe. She walked in wearing your sweater the other day. Who cares how she answered a random hypothetical? You literally said you would swap jobs with Otter for a game. It isn’t serious.” 

“Yeah but,” Wyatt paused, his lips turned downwards. He knew Tyler was right (terrifying concept) and he knew he was blowing the whole thing way out of proportion. He wasn’t even upset when the whole thing happened. It was hours later, when his brain wouldn’t stop spinning and spiralling and making him second guess everything.

“She loves you, kid,” Tyler said eventually, like he could read Wyatt’s mind. “Just as much as you love her.”

“I—we—she—” Wyatt paused, clearing his throat a little. “We haven’t said that yet.” 

“Oh,” was all Tyler could reply with, at first. A few moments passed as his grin widened, nudging his shoulder against Wyatt’s. “So, that’s what this is about?” 

Wyatt’s shoulders dropped a little.

“And Roope’s wardrobe is related…how?”

“I–It’s not,” Wyatt eventually blurted out. “I don’t even care about that. It’s just—I don’t know! We should have said it by now, right? We’ve been dating for months and, fuck, I see her almost as much as I see you guys. And I’m always going to hers or she is coming to mine and just…”

“Hmm, I see,” Tyler nodded. 

Wyatt swallowed. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Tyler nodded, lightly tapping his stick against Wyatt’s shins. “You’re insecure.” 

“Woah—” Wyatt began but Tyler didn’t let him interrupt.

“Johnny, kid, a relationship isn’t about hitting certain milestones by certain points,” Tyler said and—not that Wyatt would admit it—he was making sense. And it was, once again, a terrifying concept. “There is no right or wrong time to say that you love each other.” He paused for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t recommend dropping it into conversation after the first date but that’s not a problem here.” 

Wyatt let out a sigh, his attention shifting down at the ice as he lazily fiddled with the pucks by his feet. 

Tyler finally took pity on the boy, tapping his shins once again. “You love her?” 

“Of course,” Wyatt replied instantly.

Tyler nodded. “You want her to say it first?”

Wyatt hesitated a little. “Well…no. I mean, I don’t mind. I just kinda wish I knew she was gonna say it back, you know? What if she doesn’t—”

“Then it isn’t the end of the world,” Tyler assured him with a soft smile. “Even if she doesn’t say it back now—which I highly doubt, by the way, you two are sickeningly cute—that doesn’t mean she isn’t on her way to be in love with you. Might just take her a bit longer to get there. But that doesn’t have to stop you from telling her how you feel.”

“Oh,” Wyatt responded. 

“See? I can give good advice!” Tyler said, puffing his chest out and slapping Wyatt on the back, completely breaking the bubble of seeming like a responsible adult for a few moments. 

“You called me insecure,” Wyatt grumbled.

“And I was right. And then I told you how to fix the root of your insecurity,” Tyler shrugged. “You’re welcome.” 

And there wasn’t much Wyatt could say before the other boy skated off.

Wyatt told himself he wasn’t going to let it get to him any longer, that he was going to focus on the rest of practice and then he would consider everything Tyler had said to him. But truth be told, the boy’s head was racing with a million different thoughts for the rest of the sessions, his shots hitting off the poles and his passes not quite hitting the mark. 

It was a dreadful practice and everyone on the team could see it, but he assumed Tyler must have gotten Jamie to pull some rank because none of the boys mentioned it by the time they all shuffled into the locker room.

He sped through his routine, barely drying his hair with his towel before he was shoving his gear away and half-hazardly throwing on whatever clothes he could to get out of the rink as fast as he could.

If he was smart or even remotely prepared, he would have messaged you to let you know he was coming over.

Instead, he found himself outside your apartment door, pacing and chewing on his lower lip as the seconds passed like aeons as he waited for you to open the door. The door had barely swung open before he was blurting the words out.

“I love you!” 

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise.

“I love you and I don’t care about you choosing Roope’s wardrobe and I am so okay if you don’t want to say I love you back because I trust that one day you will feel the same because relationships aren’t about reaching milestones before certain time stamps,” Wyatt continued to ramble, the words just spilling before he could stop himself.

“Okay,” you murmured, your brows furrowing together as you tried to process everything he just said. 

“I’m sorry, that was a lot. I just—” He paused, taking a deep breath and letting his shoulders drop a little. “I was being dramatic last night and the fight was stupid and…I love you. That’s not just me saying that, I mean it. I love you and I don’t like having stupid fights with you and I don’t like when Tyler is right.”

You frowned. “What does Tyler have to do with this?”

“Nothing,” he waved off with a sheepish smile. “My point is that I love you and I’m sorry.”

“You should probably come in,” you murmured, returning his smile with your own as you opened the door further and stepped to the side. “And for what it’s worth, I love you too. But I feel like we have way more to talk about.” 

But it would be fine, Wyatt was sure of that. 

Because he loved you and you loved him back and, unfortunately, Tyler Seguin was right.

.

[loulouwrites]

MOMENTS . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's third child is about to be born, and he reflects on the births of his eldest children. warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, traumatic birth (but it's all okay), strained familial relationships, angst (not as bad as usual), swearing, murder, drinking, unedited wordcount: 2.4k a sequel to home but can be read as a standalone. <3

Alfie called his wife's name from the bottom of the stairs, his exhasperated shout echoing up the staircase and into the master bedroom. There was no response to his call, save for a pained scream that he was almost certain was not directed at him.

He breathed a sigh, climbing the stairs to at a time and knocking on the bedroom door, his wife's cries muffled by the heavy oak door. He called her name again, louder this time. "The kids are bein' fuckin' mental, I don't know what to do with them."

The door swung open, revealing a very angry old woman. Ms Abrams was a stern woman, she had delivered hundreds of babies, including all of the Solomons children, his wife insisting she was the best midwife they could ask for - she was also one of the few people Alfie was genuinely scared of. So scared he had considered stopping getting his wife pregnant just so he'd never have to see her severe, wrinkled face ever again.

"Mr Solomons, your wife is in labour, I will not have a repeat of last time," the woman hissed at him, swatting him away with a blemished hand.

"I don't know what to do with them," Alfie said, desperately, his hands thrown out at his sides. Ms Abrams gave him a pointed look that caused him to shrink back slightly, memories of her beating him with a heavy Charles Dickens book during Bessies birth flashing in his mind.

"You're their father, Mr Solomons - figure it out," she slammed the door in his face before he could protest, and he was left to figure it out alone.

"Dad, Bessie got into your office again!" Benjamin called from the bottom of the stairs, the giggles of his little sister following his voice.

When Benjamin had been born, eight years ago, Alfie had been mortified by the entire experience. His wife had woken up in the middle of the night, in unbearable pain, gripping onto his arm so tightly that in the haze of sleep, he had reached for the gun he always kept in his bedside table.

When she had told him to call for the midwife, he had done so without hesitation, and when there was no answer, he had sent Ollie to collect her and bring her to the house personally - it was a terrible first impression for both Alfie and Ms Abrams.

When the old woman finally did arrive, she had instructed Alfie to leave.

"Go to the pub or something, it's what most men do."

But Alfie was not most men, and had insisted he be close by, just in case. It had not impressed Ms Abrams, who had rolled her eyes at the gangster as if he were a spoiled child, before telling him to wait downstairs for however long it would take.

It was three hours in when Ms Abrams came running down the stairs, hurriedly asking him where the phone was, and he directed her to it wordlessly. He asked to her what was wrong, but she had ignored him, speaking into the phone in a tone that Alfie knew too well - panicked.

His head went fuzzy as he watched the woman clutch the phone to her ear, speaking in a hushed tone to whoever was on the other end.

"We need a doctor here immediately," she had said, and Alfie had started for the stairs before either of them could blink. He ignored the protests of the older woman, rushing up the stairs and into the bedroom too fast for her to catch up and stop him.

He didn't know what he was expecting - maybe blood, maybe his wife lying lifelessly on the bed - but there was no red stains on the sheet, and she was lying on the bed, very much alive, though pale and tired.

"Alfie," she breathed out, her head flopping back on the headboard. "What's happening?"

He had no response, he just lingered in the doorway helplessly.

What was happening?

"Get out," Mrs Abrams pushed past him, a man in a nice suit following behind her, giving the scared husband a polite smile as he squeezed past.

"No," Alfie spat at her. "You tell me what's going on."

Neither of them responded, sharing a worried look, before the man kneeled at the bottom of the bed, ensuring his wife that everything was going to be fine.

Ms Abrams glanced at Alfie, and with a heavy sigh, placed a hand on his shoulder to push him out of the room, closing the door halfway so she could speak to him through the crack.

"The baby is in distress," she said, holding a hand up when Alfie went to interrupt her. "It'll be fine, Mr Solomons, the doctor is here now. I'm certain it will all be fine."

But Alfie could read the midwife's face.

She wasn't certain - how could she be?

Eveything worked out, Benjamin Solomons was born one hour later, his cries filling the house, and Alfie shot up from where he sat on the floor outside the bedroom, waiting for the door to open.

"Your son is here, Mr Solomons," Ms Abrams said, smiling for the first time since he had met her all those hours ago. He nodded at her, pushing into the room as the midwife and doctor left, not paying any mind to them as he approached the bed where his wife lay, with a now quiet baby in her arms.

Alfie had seen babies before, though they were at least a few weeks old, cleaned and dressed properly, ready to meet strangers. This one, though, was purple and swollen, with his eyes scrunched shut and his lips pursed as he took in his new surroundings.

Benjamin was an ugly baby - but he was theirs.

"Bessie, please stop," Alfie sighed at his daughter as she sped around his study, throwing pieces of paper in the air, laughing when her dad would try and catch them before they hit the floor.

She was a fast two year old, she seemed to have endless energy that didn't burn out until the very end of the day, Alfie swore she tried to tire everybody else out first.

The knock at the door interrupted Alfie's protests, and he gave up, scooping the little girl into his arms and making his way to the front door, stopping in the foyer at the sight of his mother-in-law greeting her grandson and stepping into the house.

Her eyes flickered from Benjamin to Alfie, and the smile fell from her lips, pursing into a look of disgust.

"Alfie," she nodded, scoffing when the man ignored her, spinning on his heel as his daughter laughed, reaching her arms out to her 'bubbee'.

He was sat at the kitchen table with Bessie, pretending to listen to her babbling when the woman walked in, hand in hand with Benjamin - they had always gotten along - and it pissed Alfie off like nothing else.

"How long has it been?" She asked, pulling off her gloves and sitting in the chair opposite him.

"Four hours," Benjamin said proudly - he had been counting.

"Might be a while yet," she sighed, turning to her grandson. "Why don't you take your sister to the shop and get yourselves some sweets while we wait?" She was already reaching into her purse to pull out some coins before Alfie could protest.

"Sweeties!" Bessie laughed from her seat, jumping down and pulling her big brother by his hand out of the door.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that," Alfie grumbled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"They're just sweets, Alfie, it won't do them any harm," she waved a dismissive arm. "Besides, it looked like you could use a break," she let her eyes trail across the room - he would admit, it had been tidier.

"Surprised to see you, don't usually show up for these things," he was challenging her, and from the way she sat up in her seat, she was ready for it.

"I'm her mother, Alfie, she asked me to be here."

"Well she's emotional," he shrugged calmly. "Pregnancy brings out her meloncholy side."

"I'm trying to be a better mother, I would appreciate it if you let me."

"Yeah," Alfie scoffed, "too little too late for me, love."

"Glass houses, Alfie," the woman glared at him. "You've hardly been an outstanding husband."

"Never threw her out on the streets, though, have I? Let me tell you somethin', you can see her as often as you like but if you dare come into my home and try and poison her, or my children, against me" he leaned forward in his chair. "Your body will be floating in the thames before those kids get home from the shop."

She seemed taken aback by his comment, and it made Alfie want to throttle her, if it wasn't for his wife upstairs, he probably would. She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the two children running back into the house, the front door slamming shut behind them.

"Dad, she stole my cola cubes," Benjamin whined, pointing to his younger sister, who had a sly grin on her face and her hands tucked behind her back.

"I'm going to go and check on your mother," she spoke to her grandchildren, offering them a smile as she left the kitchen.

"Is mummy hurt, daddy?" Bessie asked, climbing onto his lap, a white bag of cola cubes in her hand.

"Yeah," Alfie nodded, "but not for long. It'll be over soon."

Bessie's birth had gone much smoother than Benjamin's had - from what Alfie could remember.

He hadn't been home when his wife had gone into labour, he had been at the bakery, dealing with business that could not be delegated to anybody else.

The was a rat in the bakery, and after months of searching his men had finally figured out who it was. The phone rang in his office incessantly, but nobody heard it over the sound of the man's screams from the main floor.

Rats didn't die quick. That was his policy when it came to such matters, and this day was no exception. It had taken hours for the man's body to finally give up, for his body to slump on the floor with little fight left in him, and that's when Alfie shot him in the head - like a lame horse.

It was divine retribution in a way. This man died while Alfie's daughter was being born - there was a clear winner in the scenario.

He had drank rum from the distillery after, the phone had stopped ringing and it was quiet again, and he took a moment to himself, drinking half the bottle before he decided it was time to call it a night.

He didn't drink the rum out of guilt for what he had done, nor had he done it in celebration - he just needed a moment of silence, a moment to cleanse his mind of what he had done before he went home and hugged his son and kissed his wife.

He had come home stumbling, Benjamin was already in bed, fast asleep and the house was eerily quiet - until he stumbled into the bedroom that is.

The screams were delayed when they hit his ears, a frown on his face when his bleary eyes lifted from the carpet to his bed, where his wife was sat up, a screaming infant in his arms and an unimpressed look on her face, the midwife stood at her bedside seemingly shaking with rage.

"Fuckin' hell, you had another one?" He laughed, throwing his head back. He was still laughing when Ms Abrams approached him a book from the bedside table in her hands, delivering a smack to the side of his head, knocking his hat onto the floor. "For fuck's sake," Alfie groaned, cradling his ear with his hand, but the woman didn't stop, hitting him repeatedly with the book until he backed out of the room.

"Go and wash the smell of rum off of you and get youself together, man," she hissed once she had him backed into the wall outside the bedroom.

He didn't argue with her, shuffling into the bathroom before she could get another hit in.

"Her name is Elisabeth, by the way," she called out after him.

Bessie was finally in bed when Mrs Abrams came into the kitchen.

"You have another son, Mr Solomons," she said plainly, her coat already on her shoulders and her bag in the crook of her elbow.

Alfie got up from his seat and nodded greatfully at her before he rushed for the stairs, glaring at his mother-in-law as she passed him, heading for the door.

Benjamin was already in the room when he got there, kneeling on the bed to gaze at his new baby brother in wonder, and Alfie approached cautiously, coming to stand at the side of the bed, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder and looking down at the baby.

It didn't look much different to the other two when they had been born, it had the same purple and swollen face, the same scrunched up expression on its face, though he was much smaller than Benjamin had been.

"What's his name, mum?" Benjamin asked bouncing up and down on the bed, trying to contain his giddiness.

"I think your dad should choose this time," she said, looking up at her husband with a dazed smile on her face. Benjamin's head turned to his father expectantly, and Alfie froze. He had had no part in the naming of his first two children, their names chosen before he had a chance to process they were even born, it had annoyed him until this very moment.

"What about Isaac?" He offered eventualy, and mother and son shared a thoughtful look.

"No," they spoke in unison.

"Fine," Alfie sighed. "Benny? What do you want to name him?"

"Noah," Benjamin said proudly, and the husband and wife shared a look, nodding together in silent agreement.

"Benny, go to bed, now." Alfie spoke, ignoring the frown on his son's face as he clambered off the bed.

"I heard you threatened to throw my mother in the Thames," she said when the door closed behind Benjamin.

Alfie shushed her, moving to sit on the bed. "Don't talk about her, Noah's listening."

Her eyes began to droop shut and Alfie gently took the infant from her arms, holding the little thing bundled in a yellow blanket, watching as his eyes began to close too.

Alfie was the only one who didn't sleep that night, keeping a hold of his youngest son until the sun came up.

[serialkilluh1996]

☠︎︎𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄☠︎︎

Possessive-Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female-Reader

Request (summarized): Possessive!Boyfriend!Ghost

Requested anonymously

Themes: fluff

୨୧ Stay in for the night. Ghost doesn't want you to go out alone. Besides, he'll spoil you rotten anyway. ୨୧

CW: use of '☆☆☆' in place of reader's name, implied age gap (it's up to you how big it is) possessive behavior (obviously),Ghost is a little rough with you, mentions of drugging, Contact me if I need to add more.

Ghost had issues. Mommy issues, daddy issues, anger issues; you name it, he's struggling with it. But, God, did my guy have trust issues. He had a habit of checking both your phones for the time just in case one of your devices were off by a minute or so. He initially couldn't help being this way. He's just so anxious. And it makes him...possessive.

Ghost sits leaned back on the couch, legs spread like warm butter on a pancake, still in uniform as he was too lazy tired to take it off. His hands are clasped together as he stares blankly at the TV, not even fully focused on whatever bullshit 90s romcom rerun was playing. He couldn't think about that right now. Not knowing you were in the other room, doing God knows what.

Simon had a heavy urge to burst in to see what you were doing, wondering if he'd find you sexting some random guy on tumblr (or whatever other social media platforms you had), but he knows even the slight implication that he thinks you're cheating will piss you off, so he stays in place, brown eyes hazed with thought.

His head whips instantly, his mind processing as you walk past him in some skimpy cheetah print (favorite color) dress, some chunky black heels, and your favorite necklace. He gruffs lowly, standing to his feet as you reach for the door.

He grabs your hand, turning you around.

"Where're you goin'?" His voice is low, yet animated, pointing out his frustration at your lack of even acknowledging your own boyfriend's presence. "Out." You answer flatly.

Ooh, he did NOT like your attitude. His grip on your wrist tightens. "Aren't you a smartass? Out where, love?" His tone is more sarcastic. "My friend's house. She's throwing a party." You respind, now frowning at his grasp on you.

Oh. Hell. No.

"Tell her you can't make it." "What?" "Ya heard me, love. Cancel. You're not going." He looks down at you, his towering stature adding a certain predatory feel to his serious gaze. "You can't decide if I go. You're not my dad." You pouted.

His brows loosen at that, eyes widening a bit. "You always do this, Simon. I'm not your little girl, I'm a grown damn woman. You think you can just boss me around cause I'm younger and shorter than you but you cannot keep doing this to me. You keep me locked in this house like a pet. You don't trust me." You snatch your hand away, folding your arms.

"...☆☆☆... baby. I do trust you. You're the only one I trust. It's everyone else I'm worried about. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let you go out and something bad happens when I can prevent it." He explains, his hands easing into his pockets with guilt. He knows your right. He's always like this. Keeping you on such a tight leash.

You sigh, your gaze flickering between his eyes, seeing the shame. He was like a puppy being scolded for chewing to shoes. "...fine. I'll stay." You give in, walking past him and back up the stairs. He sighs, turning to watch you leave.

You lay in bed, arms folded as Ghost rests his head on your tummy. He looks up at you, pretty brown eyes filled with love as his thumbs caresses your hips. He's finally in something more comfortable, the fabric of his shirt between your thighs feeling oh so warm and cozy.

Neither of you spoke a weird, unsure if you were even able to talk to eachother. You were still a little cranky about his attitude, and he was still trying to suppress the guilt of pressuring you to stay.

"I'll make it up to you, love." "I'm sure you will." You respond flatly. "Don't be so uptight. I'll take you to your favorite restaurant tomorrow and we can get you a new band shirt from Spencer's." He rubs a hand across your stomach. "Bribery doesn't work on me, Simon." You turn away.

"I'll add on a new handbag and a little sweet treat too." He offers in a singsong voice. "Well,...I do want a little sweet treat." You run a hand through his dusty blonde hair. "Good." He squeezes your hips. "I'll buy you anything you want as long as you let me keep you safe." He smirks. You couldn't be mad at him forever. Not when he was so cunning.

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