#and even NOW I'm thinking about how it plays out

[rottingpink]

free use

cw. cnc, established relationship, free use, going at it CONSTANTLY, p/v, breeding, corruption kink, unprotected sex

synopsis. since discussing the idea of both of you being willing to fuck whenever, your husband has not let up off you.

masterlist

"we should try something fun."

your husband lifts his gaze slowly from the newspaper he was reading.

"fun?" he indulges you, tilting his head slightly to search your face. you suggested something without a description intentionally to make him ask for an elaboration, meaning what you're about to tell him will either be very intriguing, or the complete opposite. he searches your features in an attempt to determine which it'll be. "what kind of fun?"

you pause to make him squirm in anticipation. "i was thinking," you murmur, tracing your finger along the couch's lines with your fingertip, a sign of nervousness. "we could try… being available to each other. like whenever one of us wants-" your face goes warm, "sex."

the newspaper lowers down to his lap so your husband can stare at you intently, but he doesn't move otherwise. he's seated with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his legs apart in a lazy manspread, looking way too composed for what you just suggested. your body is so tense right now that you feel the urge to take a cold shower before the conversation continues. why isn't he saying anything?

"available," he echoes your choice of words. "as in free use."

you nod, trying not to squirm in your seat. "mhm."

he hums, tongue running over the inside of his cheek, and his eyes drag over your body as if he's already imagining all the different ways he can catch you off guard and ruin you. just as you suggested.

"sweetheart," he murmurs quietly, folding the paper and setting it aside, "do you even know what you're agreeing to?"

you shrug, a guileless glint in your wide eyes. you couldn't seriously be asking him this. you, who cries within the first ten minutes of him fucking you and tries to crawl away from him when he's pounding into you, wants to be free use for him, constantly? "i trust you. there... shouldn't be any issues."

he leans back in his chair and lets a silence pass once more. he seems to be considering it. the longer he goes without talking the more you squirm. he lays a cheek in his palm, and continues. "and why do you want to be free use for me?"

your eyes widen and your lips press together. you're nervous but trying not to show it. "it's not just me, you know. both of us are available for each other. i just wanted to suggest it because it's been on my mind a while."

"mm. no other reason?"

you hesitate a second too long, and he notices immediately. his eyes narrow ever so slightly. "well," you fidget, toying with a thread on your shirt to break eye contact just long enough so you don't explode. "i just thought it might be exciting."

"exciting... how?"

you puff out a soft breath and try to play it off. "i dunno… like, getting dragged into a public washroom while we're out grocery shopping. or, like… in the car. pulling it over so we can go to the backseat. or while i'm doing laundry."

"so you mean you want me to be so desperate i can't wait and have to have you. right then, right there."

you fidget again, but nod. "mhm."

he laughs once under his breath. "that's cute. so if you're half asleep," he says, "and i want to wake you up with my cock inside you, you won't mind? or if we're on a hike and you're in one of those pairs of leggings i really like, i can put you up against a tree?"

you nod, but look away bashfully. "i said whenever."

he hums and looks away for a moment in an attempt to stay calm while he processes. then he looks back at you, tutting with a pitying look on his face. like you're a lamb up for the slaughter.

"you don't know what you just agreed to," he says affectionately, like he's sorry for you.

you frown, feeling like he's underestimating you. "yes, i do."

he smiles. "you really don't."

the first time he tries out your new agreement is when you're brushing your teeth with him the next morning. you're standing at the sink in just one of his old t-shirts, groggy, hair messy, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth as you blink blearily at your own reflection. he's behind you, pretending to brush his teeth too, but he's just looking at you.

your thighs are bare. the shirt rides up when you lean forward to spit into the sink, and he can see the crease where the back of your thighs meet your plush ass. he's entranced by the quiet way you operate when you're still half asleep and unaware of how good you look.

he swishes some water in his mouth and spits, setting his toothbrush back in the holder while watching you. you didn't notice he was ogling until you look up to meet his gaze in the mirror reflection to see him reaching around to pull you flush against his chest, lifting his hands under your shirt from behind to cup your tits. you don't wear a bra around the house, much to his convenience.

"just trying something fun," he murmurs into the curve of your neck, kissing the soft skin there. you tip your head a little, a pleasant feeling washing over your body as his thumbs roll over your perked nipples. he then wraps his hand around your throat to tip your head back. "aren't you so pretty?" he coos, one hand toying with your breast while the other gives your throat a light squeeze. it does nothing for your sanity. your brain might as well be slipping out of your ears.

you try to respond, but all that slips out is a helpless little whimper, the toothbrush still dangling from your lips.

"you're already shaking," he says softly, letting go of your throat only to glide his hand down the front of your shirt, past your navel, and into the waistband of your thin cotton panties. "and it's not even been a minute since i started. why're you acting like some helpless little virgin?"

you slip the toothbrush out of your mouth and drop it in the holder, using both hands to hold his wrist to keep yourself steady. "you're being mean," you breathe, embarrassed by how quickly he's unraveled you.

he hums, slipping his fingers inside your tight pussy to find you warm and wet. your hips jolt, but you don't move away. "i'm doing what you asked of me," he corrects you, his tone patient. "you said 'whenever,' remember?" he begins to lift up your shirt and tosses it onto the counter beside you, and your panties come off right after. then he pushes you forward so you're bent over onto the smooth marble in front of you.

he leans over your back, palm pressing down gently between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. "you know what your problem is," he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, "you get way too ahead of yourself. then you ask for things you're not ready for."

"baby please," you whine, grinding your hips back, only for him to pull away. he's teasing you. you look back at him with frustration, wanting friction against your sopping core, but he's not allowing it.

you feel him hook a hand under your knee to prop your leg up on the edge of the sink for a better angle, and he tuts at how messy your little pussy is so soon. he spreads you as much as you can go, then nudges his clothed bulge against your core, listening to your breath hitch and breathy pants to leave your mouth. "hmmh... that spot... do that again,"

he hushes you patronizingly, tugging his pj pants just low enough for his cock to be free. you're completely bare in contrast. with a hand pinning you down and the blunt press of his cock between your thighs, he slowly, maddeningly starts to slip it inside with a purposeful roll of his hips, and the stretch immediately hits you. you feel so full with just the first few inches of his fat cock in you.

your mouth opens around a silent moan, eyes rolling back. your grip on the counter tightens while he rocks into you steadily, holding you firmly while his gaze flits from your hole sucking him in and the lewd look on your face in the mirror.

"you wanted this. look at yourself. look how pretty you are when you're being used."

you try. you really do. your eyes flutter open just long enough to catch sight of your own flushed, wrecked reflection, your hair a mess, mouth parted, as he slowly fills you up to the brink, tip kissing your womb. his hand gathers a fistful of your hair to tip your head up.

your head spins as he thrusts into you roughly, flesh slapping against flesh making nasty sounds that echo off the bathroom walls. "y-you're... haaa gonna be late f'work," you moan as he fucks into you deep and rough, his thick cock curving just right inside you to keep bumping against your sweet spots.

"shit... y'wanna talk about that now?" he tugs your hair a little to make you squeal, using it to keep you in place like it's a handle. "i'll grab breakfast on the way there," he says into your skin. "this is more important."

you reach behind blindly because you're desperate to feel your husband or hold him, but he pushes you back down, then leans down to push his chest flush against your back, his skin hot against yours. he nudges his cock deeper in you at the new angle, moving a bulky arm to wrap around your neck and fuck you in a chokehold.

he groans against your ear, rutting harder now, his rhythm starting to lose control while your back arches for him, trying to take more even though you're so full. his hips snap forward with more force and he chuckles into your ear when you let out a garbled, " 'm gonna cum..." followed by a loud mewl. he groans, slamming into that one spot that gets you to tighten up around him each time his mushroom tip gives it a kiss.

"hmm, ask nicely, sweetheart," he nips your ear and bottoms out with an obscenely wet squelch. "mmmm.... c-can i... fuck, c-cum? please, 'm gonna..." your eyes screw shut and your pussy gushes around his thick shaft, leaving your thighs slick and shaky.

he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you so his cum can shoot as deep inside you as he can. he doesn't pull out right away. arms wrapped around your middle, nose pressed into your hair like he's anchoring himself.

"god," he mumbles, still pumping you full, and there's now a creamy ring where his cock enters your cunt. "filled your little pussy all up, didn't i? now i'll feel bad leaving you like this."

you're too wrecked to answer, slumped forward against the sink, letting him hold you up. he reaches for a washcloth by the towel rack and dampens it so he can clean you up, giving you little kisses the whole time while you cling onto him. he keeps praising you, too. "did s'good for me, pretty baby."

he leaves you with a soft peck on your cheek. "ill see you later tonight..."

it doesn't stop after that morning in the bathroom. that was just his warm up, after all; his first taste of what you gave him. the second the floodgates opened, there was no closing them. poor you.

there's the time in the gym changeroom, right after your shared workout ends. you're both sore and sweaty, and you duck into the locker room so you can grab your stuff and head home with him to shower. however, the second he sees your flushed skin and damp chest through your sports bra, he doesn't hesitate to tug you into one of the showers and sit down on the bench, tearing off your clothes and tugging you into his lap.

he'll stuff your panties in your mouth so your moans are muffled, and fucks up into you hard and fast with no shame, even as he hears people talking and shuffling about behind the flimsy shower curtain. "you're gonna make a mess on me, aren't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "you like knowing someone could walk in right now and see you like this? my sweet girl, cockdrunk in a gym shower?"

he makes you cum on his cock, stuffs you full of his seed and leaves with you once the coast is mostly clear.

next was the hike. you're halfway up the steep trail with him, on a quick break on the grass off the main path. you'd just bent over a little to re-tie your laces since your boots had been far too tight, when he'd come up behind you, grinding against you and palming your ass through your leggings in broad daylight.

"shouldn't bend over in front of me unless you want me to do somethin' to you," he mutters, voice low and warm at your ear as he presses himself closer, fingers kneading into the backs of your thighs.

he doesn't give you a second to argue before he's guiding you face first to a tree and dropping to his knees. he pulls your leggings down just enough to get what he wants, and the air hits your slick folds pleasantly. you whimper, bracing yourself as he spreads your ass to have your pussy fully presented to him.

"gonna be quick," he whispers, "just a little taste." he mumbles, before shoving his face right into your cunt.

you gasp loudly and your hands shoot up to brace against the tree bark right in front of you and dig into the wood. you tremble and let out a shaky breath when he licks a slow, nasty stripe from your pussy up to your clit, shaking his tongue a little so it slobbers over every inch of your drooling pussy lips, occasionally prodding your hole.

his hands are firm on your thighs to spread you open wider, dragging your hips back toward his mouth while he eats you out filthy and sloppy. his nose nudges your clit, tongue flicking in and out of you, then slipping deep inside.

you bite your lip and your eyes, wide and panicked, glance toward the trail. anyone could walk by since you're not that far off the path, hidden, but not well. if someone wandered off long enough, they'd find the two of you.

"god," he moans into you, closing his mouth around your pussy lips and sucking gently, then going back to make out with your pussy. "taste so fuckin' good, babe. made for me." your orgasm hits so fast that you barely have time to warn him, pushing back against him so you cream right into his mouth.

you intended to have one wholesome weekend without your man ravaging you on any available surface in the vicinity. a family gathering that your parents are hosting. you enter the countryside house with your husband's hand on the small of your back to guide you inside, smiling politely as your relatives greet you both with warm hugs and laughter. everyone is in a good mood, sipping drinks, chewing on appetizers. there's music playing, and scents drifting from the kitchen.

he lasts about twenty minutes into the evening before he leans down to whisper filth into your ear while everyone else is distracted in the dining room. "you keep looking up at me like that and you're not leaving this place without my cum dripping down your thighs."

you stiffen, body heating up with arousal instantly, even as your face stays composed for the sake of your family standing two feet away. your husband knows exactly what he's doing. he brushes his lips just under your ear again, letting his breath brush over your skin while his palm subtly slides down to squeeze your ass through your dress, making you yelp.

he's all over you most of the evening. hands holding your hips from behind, cupping your ass, arms around your waist, smelling your hair... blatant public displays of affection. he keeps whispering things. "you're dripping through this dress," he murmurs while you're getting drinks in the kitchen. "do you even know what you look like right now?"

you try to push him away, but he's already behind you, brushing your hair over your shoulder as if he's helping, just to kiss the back of your neck. he's all over you right up until you take a break to get away from the party for a bit before dinner. you choose your childhood bedroom as an escape, needing one second away from him before he decides to finger you at the dinner table or fuck you in one of the bathrooms, but he follows you shortly after.

you just entered your old room, not realizing the door didn't click shut behind you. you make it two steps before he grabs you and pins you down onto your back in your old twin bed.

you jolt. "baby! where did you- what are you- "

"shhh," he murmurs, lips already brushing your neck. "just missed you. five minutes."

your body reacts before your brain can catch up. you tip your head to the side for him, breath catching as he kisses behind your ear and tugs the straps of your dress down your shoulders and pushing it under your tits so he can cup your bare mounds. his thumbs brush over your nipples until they stiffen under his touch, and he groans at your soft whines, pinching and rubbing them with his fingers while he kisses down to your chest, laving his tongue over the swollen peaks. he's practically slobbering on them, one bulky hand playing with one while his mouth works on the other, sucking sharply and then releasing with a wet pop.

he drags your panties down and off your ankles, spreading you into a shameful position to get a good look at you.

"fuck, look at this mess," he thumbs over your pussy with light pressure, teasing you. "this for me?" you whimper a soft yes, causing him to chuckle softly. he leans over you again, playing with your hole while his other hand wraps around his cock to stroke it slow and firm from tip to base, aligning himself with your hole. he doesn't make it easy for you and put it in straight away, instead tapping his cock against your folds and listening to the nasty little squelches that come from you. he slides it up and down, delaying your pleasure to make you desperate.

you gasp and mewl, thighs already lifting for him as he lines up and starts to press in slowly. your body clutches around him immediately, the stretch making your head spin. "ohhh my- fuck," he groans, pushing in all the way until he bottoms out. "tight as ever. made to be fucked in."

you moan breathlessly and tip your head back, letting him start to plow into you. he doesn't waste any time in putting one leg up over his shoulder and thrusting so deep that his balls squish against the curve of your ass and his shaft forms a faint print in your belly from how huge he is. your head lolls back with each of his deep, grinding strokes.

"look at you," he whispers, eyes trained on your filthy expression. "getting ruined in your childhood room. all the innocent memories, corrupted by this one." he mocks you while fucking into you harder. you moan loudly, hands fisting at the sheets, then clawing his biceps, then running down his torso. you have no idea what to do with yourself right now. he's fucking you into oblivion and now you're completely out of it.

"bet your parents think you're still their good little girl," he pants, rocking into you, stretching you out with his fat shaft with every drag. you can feel every vein and the exact angle in which his cock curves inside you. "they don't know you're upstairs getting your pussy wrecked like this."

"fuck! baby slow down, ahn, we're gonna get caught mmfuck, please!"

"please what?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to an unbearable pace. "please fuck me harder?" he punctuates the question with a sharp thrust so deep inside you your vision swims. "or please fill me up in my little princess bed?" he coos, grinding his pelvis against yours. your mouth falls open in a silent scream as a particularly deep thrust hits your sweet spot, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine while your back arches off the bed, pressing your heaving tits more firmly against his chest. you can basically feel his heartbeat against yours, thudding in time with his sloppy thrusts.

" 'm gonna cum inside you," he grits, pounding into you hard, cock scraping against your plushy walls and the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every inward thrust. "goddamn, look at me. want you to -haa- remember this." your nails scrape his back. you're crying out softly, trying to stay quiet, but you're so close. you clamp down on him so hard when it hits that he chokes on a groan, hips stuttering as he starts spilling into you with a harsh jerk of his body.

his cock jerks and pulses as he hilts inside you, the thick head flaring inside you as he releases ropes of hot cum pumps into your greedy cunt, your womb quickly filling to the brim.

within seconds, excess semen is already bubbling out around his shaft, dripping down onto the sheets beneath your ass. your pussy clenches and ripples, desperately trying to milk every last drop of him, and he continues rocking his cock inside you as he cums, fingers moving to play with your clit, and you cum shortly after, gushing around his cock and adding to the mess on the bed.

[yanadolls]

i can't help it, i want u!

18+, mdni ୨୧

dom nagi x fem reader, age gap (legal ofc), creampie, unprotected sex, risky sex, praising

you had been eyeing him for a while now, even though you felt guilty about it. after all, it was your best friend's brother, who was probably too old for you in the first place.

why did you even like him in the first place? you had no idea. he was lazy, unmotivated, and very unhelpful when it came to giving a hand to your bestie around the house and with errands. she always complaining about him to you, and you agreed with her! good on her for scolding him and forcing him to get out of his room.

but on the other hand..nagi was so fucking attractive to you. the way he was so effortlessly strong and so good at soccer had you blushing like crazy, and his muscles and abs? it had you soaked, thighs squeezing together whenever he walked out shirtless. his sleepy eyes, messy hair, and tall height was so hot, you couldn't help but fall for him- and hard. whenever your friend left the room temporarily, you were more touchy towards the white haired man, scooting closer to 'watch him game', when in reality you were admiring him and taking in his soapy scent from his previous shower. you wanted nagi to look at you, so much so you would dress a bit different whenever he was around; short skirts, tank tops, low tight jeans.. you were frustrated because you thought that nagi never noticed, but he definitely did.

tonight, you were staying over at their house once again. your best friend was long passed out at this point, but you were anything but close to sleeping and it had been this way for the past hour. your mind was on nagi and how close he was today, still feeling giddy from when he complimented your makeup. it felt wrong to be crushing on him but you just couldn't help it- guys your age weren't satisfying you, and nagi was everything you ever wanted right now.

with a held breath, you carefully snuck out of your friend's room and shut the door, before heading to nagi's room. after a minute of hesitation, you knocked on his door and waiting a couple seconds. you could hear his mumbled approval of entrance, and when you walked in and saw him..it was like the wind was knocked out of you.

yet again, he was shirtless, abs fully on display for you as he leaned against his headboard, only the dim light of his lamp illuminating the room while his eyes were locked onto his phone. in the corner of his vision, he noticed that it was you that entered rather than his sister and that surprised him a bit.

"hm..? did my sister send you in here for something? i'm not going to the store this late."

why were you in here anyway? your cheeks were already heating up as you approached his bed, only in short shorts and a tank top.

"no, i just wanted to see you. can i hang out?"

"me? uh.. i mean i guess. you wanna watch me play or something?"

you never really hung out with him alone for longer than 10 minutes, so you were a bit more nervous this time than usual. with a silent nod, you crawled onto his bed and sat right beside him, thigh against his.

"she fell asleep really quick, and i wasn't able to. was thinking about you.."

you were more bold tonight, you wanted something to happen. you couldn't forget about how his fingers were brushing against your plushy thigh earlier- that must have been a sign, you thought. clearly, your words did affect him enough right now because he messed up his shot in his game and almost died. a scoff left his lips, pouting a bit as he quickly locked in and killed the enemy. he didn't look up at you, but nagi's attention was definitely on you now.

"think about you too. a lot actually, but don't tell my sister that or she might stop bringing you over."

you felt a flutter in your core. he had such an effect on you without even trying, it was almost angering. you carefully wrapped your arms around his muscular one, cheek pressing against his bicep.

"i won't. been wanting to be alone with you for a while, anyway."

"mh. mutual."

you paused for a moment as you watched him play, debating your next words. you felt the tension between the two of you, stronger than ever tonight, and nagi wasn't playing his best right now; he was distracted by your closeness. in a moment of confidence, you decided to just go for it.

"..been thinking about you fucking me, too."

the moment those words mumbled out of your mouth, nagi's finger slipped which resulted in an immediate game over. you thought he was about to get mad or even disgusted and kick you out.. but when he looked down at you, his eyes told you he had other plans.

"haah.. nagi, slow down..!"

you gasped out under him, eyes rolling back from how good nagi was pounding into you. his cock was so big it hurt, stretching you out and touching your cervix with each thrust. you made nagi's patience snap- all the nights he spent fucking his fist, wishing it was your sweet cunt instead, all lead up to this. the lazy genius adored how much smaller you were- how risky it was to be fucking his little sister's bff. he had wanted you the same way for so long, maybe even longer than you.

"such a good girl f'me.." he cooed softly beside your ear, soft droopy eyes looking at you from the side. he rolled his hips sensually into yours and you squealed, squirming on the mattress from how good the older man was fucking you. his hands gripped your waist, holding you down with only a tiny amount of his strength as he connected his mouth with yours for a heated kiss. your teeth and tongue clashed with his, and nagi was already obsessed with the feeling of your soft lips against his chapped ones.

"what would my sister think if she saw this, hm? p-probably think i'm a weirdo for fucking someone almost a decade younger, but you wanted this too didn't you? and you're taking me so well..knew you would be the best."

you whimpered at his words, walls clenching around him at the mere thought of being caught like this. his praises were making you feel hotter, love bubbling up in your heart for him. in your eyes, the age wasn't wrong at all. you were both adults, so what if nagi was a tad bit older? you loved it.

"ah- n-nagiii.." you panted out, "p-please, wanna cum so bad..need more!"

"yeah?"

nagi huffed and moved down to your neck, sucking deep hickeys on your skin and littering them in so many noticeable places that would be hard to cover in the morning. he wanted evidence to be left of what happened between them tonight.

"fuck, y/n.. you have no idea what you do to me. pussy is incredible, can't believe i didn't hit on you sooner.."

nagi's pace quickened as he pressed more weight onto you, heavy cock abusing your tight hole. you weren't exactly having quiet sex- your best friend could very well wake up and walk in, but that wasn't even on your mind right now. you were drunk on nagi's dick, and he knew it. the man could tell you were getting close from how much you were moving and squeezing around him, and found you utterly adorable looking so vulnerable under his touch.

"you're so perfect, aren't you? gonna fill you up so nicely, stuff you full with my load over and over till the morning and my sister won't have a fucking clue."

you whined, totally in love with the amount of attention you were getting from him after longing for it for months. he made your tummy flutter and your heart race- whether he was talking so dirty to you or saying something sickly sweet.

"cumming, ah- i-i'm cumming! oh nagi, l-love you so much!"

you shrieked out as your back arched off the bed, gushing all over his cock. he groaned out, sloppily thrusting a couple more times into your cunt before pressing deep inside you, finishing in your womb.

you were a panting mess underneath him, but he wasn't done. that little 'love you' at the end of your orgasm struck him to his core. nagi was starting to really think that dating you wouldn't be so bad after all- even if you would both face severe backlash from his sister.

"you still with me, baby? we have a whole night ahead of us, it'd be a hassle to make me spend it alone. mh, i love you so much.."

AN; older nagi makes me combust all over the screen >.< this is lwk shit ugh WHATEVER

[bunni-v1]

I just saw the teasing, but shy / brat taming story. Can I request kinda similar but kinda opposite, MC who is shy and likes to tease but is actually a good girl? 🧡

I personally like to tease, I love seeing them start to lose it because they start to get so turned on but they know they can't do anything about it. (Not in an angry way tho, if that makes sense?) But I'm also very much a good girl, while I very slightly might test boundaries, I live to please. I don't see many stories for us good girls, (also pillow princess stories are quite rare) so if you feel comfortable, I would love to see this version also. 😄

Such a Good Girl~

Necessary marc tag: @cilomarc

🍓I saw this and IMMEDIATELY started brainstorming. Other than when I was writing Cookie Run, this is the fastest I've gotten to a request. Now, It might've taken me a little longer than I wanted to get it done... but shut up. Now I'm not sure how loyal I was to the prompt, I kinda just... got lost while writing. Still, I do hope that it's what you were looking for my love <3

TW: Brat tamer Zayne & Sylus; Mean Xavier; Oral Receiving (Rafayel) & Giving (Caleb); Use of "Good Girl"; BLATANT Caleb favoritism; Grammar Errors

Info: NSFW; Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader (separate); Short drabbles

Total Word Count: 6.2k words (individual count listed with character)

MDNI

ZAYNE (1.2k Words)

You don't even remember what you did to get yourself in the position in the first place. Well, you do, but you felt too lightheaded to think about it now. Zayne had you pressed close to his chest, head resting on his shoulder, and dick nice and snug inside your tight little hole. There was a pressure deep in your stomach that couldn't be relieved without movement, but he refused you the option, hands stilling your hips when they wiggled even a fraction.

Maybe, coming into Zayne's office during work hours in his favorite skirt wasn't the greatest idea you'd had. He was only so patient, especially when it came to you and your teasing. He let you play dumb for a little while, because it made you happy, and it's not like he didn't enjoy seeing the soft curve of your ass in the tight fabric as you waltzed around. It was almost cute the way you played dumb, like you didn't notice the way his eyes trailed after you and his pen stilled occasionally to observe you.

It was only meant to be a cute little game between the two of you, one you didn't expect to yield the results it did. But when he beckoned you over, pulling you between his legs by your hips, your fate was sealed. He had his usual calm expression, but his eyes were alight with need, drinking you in with each rove over your curves. The hands on your hips slid down to your thighs, then back up again, feeling the expanse of soft flesh as if it were his personal comfort.

His eyes find yours when he finally speaks, "Is there a reason you chose this skirt today?"

A little smile crawls up your face, almost shyly, "I thought you might like it."

His eyebrows raised in acknowledgement, lifting his chin just slightly in affirmation. His fingers pull you closer by the backs of your thighs, drumming up and up until they rest atop your butt. It's not a science to tell that he's very pleased with your answer, no need for a rigorous degree to read him, he spells it out for you without needing to be asked.

"I do," he hums, kneading your cheeks in his hands, "Were you hoping for a reward?"

Direct and to the point as always, you couldn't hide from him. There was no attempt with the way you flustered, eyes flitting around nervously while you nodded your answer. Far too cute, if you asked him. He tapped your bottom, and like a trained dog, you looked back at him with fluttering lashes.

"If you can be nice and patient, I'll give you what you want," he hums, tilting his head so the light catches in his eyes just so, "You can do that for me, can't you?"

And that's how you'd ended up throwing your legs on either side of him and curling into his neck like a lifeline. You'd cock warmed him before, it wasn't a challenge to sit still and let him work. The stagnant pleasure was something you had come to enjoy, an intimacy that set butterflies free in your stomach every time he offered for you to do it. What was difficult to deal with, though, was the tension in built in your head.

You knew how your night would end, obviously. The issue lay in not knowing when Zayne believed the reward awaiting you was earned. You were always his good girl; you knew you were so well behaved, he told you all the time. There was simply no measure that could properly count when you had behaved well enough for your treat. That was up to Zayne to decide, and it could span from minutes to hours of waiting. That was the fun of it, though.

He would tap his fingers along your sides when the time was getting closer. Physical affection and comfort pick up, as a little warning. You think it's mostly subconscious, more for himself than it was for you. Fingers slide up and down your spine, kisses pressed to the side of your face in reassurance, or arms pulling you just a little closer.

Your nerves jitter in excitement when he sets his pen down, the soft shuffle of papers being moved out of the way, the most exciting sound in the world. Gentle hands pull your face into view, stroking over your warm cheeks as an apology for making you wait so long. You smile at him, leaning into his hands, craving that skin-to-skin contact more than you'd realized.

"You want to move, don't you?" He asks, though it comes out as more of a statement.

Adamantly, your head bobs up and down, "Yes, Sir."

He hums, copying your nodding, "Go ahead then, you've earned it."

Not needing to be told twice, you use his shoulders as leverage to bounce yourself up and down in his lap. Slow and steady motions to start, dragging his length along your walls, taking in each inch of pleasure with delight. All the while, he watches you, making sure you behave like you're meant to. Both of you know you will, you'd never do anything to purposely upset him, but the thought of him watching for little slip-ups gets the heat boiling beneath your skin.

His hands rest on your hips, not helping, just resting patiently. Just in case. You try not to think too hard about it, focusing in on the task you were given. Taking in the comforting feeling of him buried deep inside you, dragging along your walls like he was made to be there. The pleasant squelching sounds filling up his normally quiet office, encouraging you to keep going even though your legs start to burn.

His head leans back, getting more comfortable in his chair, content just watching you use him. His hands squeeze in patterned intervals to further encourage you to chase your high. Quiet, watchful, and entirely taken with you. The flush on his cheeks was more than enough to signal that you were performing exactly as he wanted; there was no need to vocally pronounce it when he made it so obvious to you. Heated gaze committing every little shift in expression to memory, utterly obsessed with the way you fall apart so obediently.

And fall apart you do, movements quickly becoming sloppy. It's too difficult to raise your hips in the same motion over and over, so you've taken to rolling them instead. Your orgasm is quickly building, coiling up your spine and fuzzing up your brain deliciously. You can't cum without permission, though. You don't want to misbehave and face punishment. Luckily, Zayne knows you too well, sensing your need from the way your hips seem to stutter and how you clench in uneven patterns now.

One hand cradles your chin between loving fingers, tilting your face toward his. Those sinful green eyes glimmer with knowing, looking over your flushed face like reading a report. The smallest smirk pulls at the corner of his lips, head tilting to the side in a teasing motion.

"You want to cum?" He hums expectantly, and when you nod he continues, "Go on then, be good, cum for me."

And like magic, like your body has been trained to listen, that coil springs and snaps pleasure through your body. Your orgasm draws a long, low moan from your lips, your body falling forward against his shoulder. Despite the way it tingles from the intensity of the pleasure curling along every nerve, you feel the unmistakable gentle rub of practiced hands along your spine. Coaxing your body to relax into him, easing the heat encasing you just enough to keep you lucid.

Your reward for being so good for him.

XAVIER (1.2k Words)

Xavier loves the way you like to play with him - it's cute how you tentatively poke at him, then hide away the second he questions you. It's a little game he likes to play with you: play dumb and see how far you'll let yourself get before you self-correct your behavior. He doesn't even have to do anything; you give yourself up for him every single time with a flutter of your lashes and a pout.

Just like today, you were testing your limits again, and he was happily playing oblivious. It started with some poking to his cheek and his side, annoying, but nothing he wasn't used to. The way you lit up when he hummed in acknowledgement set a chill down his spine. You didn't stop there, eventually letting your cute little innocent poking evolve into firm grasps. Nowhere too risqué, on his arms or holding his waist as though that was where your hands belonged.

He'd slid his hand over yours at that point, quietly warning you that he was on to you. Not to negate, just to tell, a reminder of who was in charge of whom. You took it as an invitation and worked yourself up to more teasing touches. Featherlight as your hand grazed over his chest and above his thighs, still too good to push further than that. Your intention was clear without needing to go further, though, and it brought Xavier great excitement to see how you shrank back from giving in to your wants.

You didn't have to worry about it, and you knew that fact. Xavier was ready to hand it over to you on a silver platter, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It came when your fingers strayed just a little too high up his thigh, not intentionally, but the perfect excuse to grab them firmly. Bringing the hand to his lips, kissing their tips with such devotion, you nearly forget that he'd caught you in the act. Those pretty blue puppy dog eyes darken slightly when he gazes at you, intent clear as day in their sparkle.

"You've been quite playful today, starlight," He mumbles against your skin, "Are you hoping for something from me?"

You fluster immediately, just like he expected you to, because you're so scared of being bad for him. You hate it when he's mad, so you nod obediently. His other hand tilts your head gently, as if it's a suggestion of movement rather than a command. You listen regardless, moving your face as he likes, swallowing when his thumb grazes over your lip. He watches your tongue dart out after it, like you were trying to get a taste of what he left behind. That makes him more of a mess than he'd be willing to admit, breath shaking with his next exhale.

"Don't worry about telling me," He says, moving forward in a swift motion, pressing you to the couch cushions easily, "I already know what you need, just behave and I'll give it to you, okay?"

Another helpless nod, and he is hovering over you like a predator who'd just caught his prey. Sliding your clothes out of his way, not bothering to take anything off fully, far too preoccupied to care about such a trivial matter now. He only makes sure you're wet enough before he pushes inside your tight heat. It takes all his self-control not to moan out loud, mouth finding your neck to distract his brain with a different task for the moment.

He laves at the skin there, soft tongue sending shivers down your spine as it runs along the sensitive spots he's able to find like second nature. He works his way up to the shell of your ear, nipping and kissing along your jaw, buying time for your world to stop spinning before he sends it out of orbit again. You can feel the satisfied smirk against your ear, whining when the ghost of his teeth nibble along it.

"You're already so wet, you took me with no problem," He whispers, wiggling against you for emphasis, "You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you? How naughty, here I thought you were so well behaved."

You tug at his shirt, letting out an annoyed whine. Insistent, defiant, denying the idea that you had misbehaved. You hadn't, after all, he let you do all of it after all. He smiles, pulling back to look at your angry little pout.

"No?" He hums, and you confirm with a nod, "You think you're a good girl?"

You agree, vigorously nodding your head so hard he worries you might give yourself whiplash. Your angry pout makes him want to kiss you stupid, but he holds back on that. Only good girls get that treatment, and he wasn't so sure you'd earned the title yet. Instead, he presses his face close, just a hair's width away. Refusing to kiss you, but allowing you to desire it enough that he can see the need on your face.

"Why don't you prove it, then," He asks, rolling his hips once, "if you cum for me, maybe I'll reconsider my judgment."

With that, he begins his movements, sending your head spinning yet again with the pace he sets. Never one to waste time when he had you laid out so openly beneath him, he pistons himself into your wet heat at a steady but quick rhythm. Each drag manages to hit each spot against your spongy walls perfectly, getting you dizzy within moments of him starting. Your grip on his shirt tightens, using the fabric as a means of bracing yourself against the warmth spreading across your body.

It doesn't do anything for how quickly he manages to get you babbling, knowing your body better than you do. Those deep blue eyes watching you submit yourself willingly, knowing well that you would before he started. You always behaved so well for him; he just liked making you work for his praise. The angry expressions as you fought his accusations off, making him stupidly hot and bothered. Making the way your face absolutely scrunched up and losing itself to the heat of the moment all the more satisfying.

It doesn't take you long to reach your peak, not with how easily he works your body like this. Knowing exactly how to move his hips for you, like it was instinct to get you to fall apart on him. You cry out his name, fingers balling the fabric of his shirt like it would help you somehow. Cute, cute, cute sings inside his head, over and over, like he was losing his mind. He sees the moment the invisible thread in you snaps, and feels it as you grip around him as though trying to drag him down with you.

Instinctively, he comes down to kiss you, giving you your just rewards for being so good for him. The gentle reprieve he gives you makes it all worth it, though.

Mumbling against your moans his soft praises, "Good girl, keep going, give me all you can."

RAFAYEL (1k Words)

The only thing in the world Rafayel likes more than you is your attention. Knowing you're looking at him, having the awareness that you are encapsulated by him makes him happier than he'd be willing to admit to you. Something about the reassurance that you are there, and that you find him as mesmerizing as he does you, helps to calm his raging heart. Quells the burning fire of his yearning to a low simmer, no longer consuming him whole, but warming him from the cold of memories that still haunt him.

That attention of yours was addicting, and you were simply unaware of the effect you had on him. Which is why he felt as though he'd been going through withdrawals all day, a notable lack of your eyes on him driving him nuts. Yes, you were busy and he was oh so understanding of that... but he could only take so much. It was getting to be unfair at this point.

First, you wouldn't let him pull you back into the sheets, scolding him about 'work' and 'responsibility'. You sounded like Thomas, but he didn't complain too much that time, content to watch you get ready; the show was compensation enough. Then, audaciously, you refused to send him any pictures. Wouldn't even amuse the lighthearted flirting, too busy running around being a hero to pause for him. What made it all worse, when you got home, you were 'too tired' and 'just wanted to eat and nap'.

Fine, okay, whatever. He'll make you a tasty, nutrient-full meal and cuddle you on the couch while you talked about your day. He doesn't bring it up again, wouldn't push you when you seem so genuinely exhausted. He can go without for you, he did it for hundreds of years, what's a day?

It's fine until you start to get restless, wiggling about this way and that and pressing into him very intentionally. It clicks when you glance over your shoulder, pouting expectantly. You'd tortured him on purpose, how mean.

He pulls you back, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a smug satisfaction. The ends of his hair tickle your cheek when he pulls you into a deep and insistent kiss, not allowing you the time to catch up. He goes until you're dizzy, wiping away the string of saliva connecting you with that familiar playful smile of his, then it drops.

Annoyance, and that pout you hate to love stare you down, "Tell me, Cutie, were you intent on torturing both of us today?"

You shake your head, ready to deny him, but it catches in your throat. He nudges your nose admonishingly, almost daring you to say no. You'd played your mean little game, and he obeyed your rules, it was time for his reward; And he would be getting it. No matter what.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, "I didn't think I'd get this far."

He huffs, like he doesn't believe you, tracing your lip with his thumb.

"Talk is useless. Why don't you show me how sorry you are?" He rumbles out, eyes darkening in his desire.

You drop to your knees like you were being mind-controlled, freeing him from the confines of his pants. He stands at attention, proud and aching for your pretty lips to wrap around him. It makes you feel worse for playing hard to get all day, knowing how he must've been so needy this whole time. Those observant eyes watch you with hardly restrained excitement, twinkling down at you encouragingly.

You slide your thumb over the tip, spreading the pearly pre over it. There's an obscene amount of it, proof of how long he'd been keeping himself together, dripping down your hand. Absent-mindedly, you lean down to lick it up from where it slides down your wrist, following it back to the source. Salty and a little bitter, you ignore the taste for the sheer satisfaction of making him feel good.

You lick up what you spread around, popping the tip in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. He curses your name like it were sin itself. Sensitive and desperate. You use it as motivation to take him in, inch by inch, until your throat tickles, then you pull back. Wrapping what you couldn't fit in your mouth with your hand, beginning languid motions back and forth. Sucking, swirling, pleasing him just how you know he likes.

You want to make it up to him, feeling so bad for teasing him the way you did. You really didn't mean any harm, but from how he was throbbing along your tongue, you know you did. Using your mouth to make it up to him was the least you could do. Apologizing with each hum you send along his shaft, sending your sorry directly through his nervous system.

A hand runs through your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly in reward. Not that you've earned it, but he can't be too mean when you're just so good for him. The prettiest sight he's ever seen, lips wrapped around him while you desperately try to keep eye contact between the fluttering of your lashes. All your attention was his now, and he was happy to hog it all unashamedly, just like you were to suck him off for hours.

He thought about letting you, he thinks you may even deserve the way your knees would sting after the fact, but he can't help but be weak for you. Not when he had a lot more he wanted to get done tonight. The gentlest tug is all it takes for you to pop off him, swallowing up air as though you'd been drowning. He smiles, wiping a little bit of spit running down your chin. His messy little masterpiece.

"You can take all of it, can't you?" He asks, and you nod in a daze, licking your lips.

He allows you to take him again, helping you take more and more down your throat until he's settled there like it's where he belongs. You breathe through your nose, face scrunched up in concentration, trying so hard to make it up to him. It's so charming, making his heart race and sending the blood right back to his dick.

It's not enough, though; he needs you to look at him.

"Cutie," he hums, and you look up at him, glassy-eyed and desperate for approval. He smirks, "Such a good, obedient girl for me, I think I can forgive you this once if you keep it up."

SYLUS (1.2k Words)

Sylus was a very busy man, something you knew intimately after being with him for so long. Frequently, he was off somewhere in the N109 Zone doing something that you were safer turning a blind eye to than asking about. You'd spend weeks at a time without seeing him, alone in your apartment as you worry needlessly about his well-being. He always came back in perfect condition, smirking at you as though your worry was some pointless thing, teasing you for how much you care.

Being with him was difficult, but ultimately worth it in the long run. The way he took care of you far outweighed the periods where you could not physically have him with you. Though... sexually... You felt your resolve waver just a bit.

You found yourself very pent up in the weeks that he was gone, and there was only so much your fingers or toys could do to satiate the heat that boiled in your tummy. Pictures and videos of your previous times together helped, but also made it worse at the same time. You just wanted him: his warmth, his touch, his taste. Devastatingly addictive, and you felt strung out without him at your side.

You'd send him pictures and videos, hoping he'd return the favor when he gets the chance. Sometimes he'd call you and talk you through it, cooing at you as though you were an insatiable kitty and not his very needy partner. Naturally, given your human nature, you can only handle so long before you start feeling petty.

Normally, you wouldn't deprive yourself when he comes home to you, whispering syrupy sweet words into your ear. Not this time. No, you wanted him to have a taste of how frustrated you would get. Since he seemed to find it oh so funny when you got all needy, let's see how he liked it.

You forgot how patient he was.

He could reasonably wait several millennia, and you were finding that out the hard way. He was a stone wall of impartialness; nothing could shake him, and within a week, you felt your resolve rapidly crumbling. He knew this, of course, he always knew. Yet, he let you play your game without a peep. It only made you more infuriated, need burning in your stomach every time you looked at him, trapped in a prison of your design.

You give in a week and three days into your little facade, frustrated and pent up, and by Astra needing him to do anything for you. He looks up at you like he was expecting your arrival at his office door. You're not aware of the cute little pout on your face, nor the way you nervously fiddle with the hems of his oversized shirt sleeves. And, goodness, he questions himself on how he could possibly hold out for so long when you're just so radiant.

You stop short of his desk, positioning yourself with arms crossed as you glare at him. He regards you with a tilt of his head, leaning back in his chair like a king on his throne. It's not meant to be intimidating, but it sends a chill up your spine. Fuck he was unfairly sexy, wasn't he? How could you purposely ignore him for some stupid petty pride?

You take a deep breath, sighing out your apology, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" He hums, amusement thickening his voice.

"For avoiding you," you continue, stepping forward like owning up to it, "I was just..."

"Frustrated?" He finishes for you.

In a ridiculously smooth movement, he stands, walks to your side, and gently guides you to his couch. You are lying down across his lap, head propped up by a pillow against the arm, looking up at him with wonder. A large hand rests on your thigh, sliding your skirt to pool around your waist as you prop your knees up. Fingers stop just short of the apex of your thigh, tapping patiently along the soft skin there instead.

"It must be so difficult, being without me for so long," he purrs, "I can only imagine so, since you thought to play such a silly game with me."

You frown, resisting the urge to clench your thighs, "I just wanted you to feel how frustrated I was."

"You think I don't miss you when I'm away?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes like it was an offensive thought.

"Not as much as I miss you," you spit back.

He releases a huff of a laugh, squeezing your thigh, and you realize too late you've fallen into his trap, "Oh really? I suppose not, then. Tell me, though, what exactly do you do when you miss me?"

He knows what you do, of course, and he takes great pleasure in the videos you send. That does not stop him from quickly dipping his fingers into your underwear, finding the wetness pooling there pleasing, "Do you touch yourself like this?"

His fingers, long and slender and precise, swirl over your clit in practiced motions. The movements seem sloppy, but it's far from unintentional. He's mocking you, discarding his usual smoothness for how he imagines your fingers might play with the needy bud.  It's annoyingly accurate, which is why you melt so easily. You missed his touch so badly, unable to move your fingers in the same way he can, far less precise and sure of yourself.

You nod, swallowing hard, "I can't touch myself like you do."

"Poor little kitten," he soothes, mercifully correcting his motions to the tight circles you missed, "Don't worry, I'm here now. I'll touch you as much as you want."

Flimsily, you grab his tie, giving it a gentle tug, "Kiss me, please."

He doesn't waste any time in giving in to your commands, lips finding yours in a slow and passionate kiss that gets you sighing. You had missed him so badly, you were so needy, and now he was kissing you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. Your little game was stupid anyway, the pettiness melting to make way for your desire to please and be pleased.

You moan into his mouth when his fingers dip into your heat, dragging along your walls, reaching far deeper than you could've dreamed. He's skilled with his movements, curling them along the most sensitive spots he'd taken time to memorize. Somehow, knowing your body better than you do. Which is why it's no surprise you cum quickly, orgasm coming without warning and leaving you breathless against his lips.

He's muttering your praises, 'very good', 'that's it', 'perfect', and it only makes you more hazy. How he could be so sweet to you after you were so stupid was beyond you, but you didn't want him to stop. He doesn't, intrinsically knowing what you need without voicing it, and soon you are working through your second consecutive orgasm. Then your third, until you are finally coming down from your high with his steadfast praises ringing through your mind.

"Thank you," you mumble.

"Thank you," He answers, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.

CALEB (1.6k Words)

You didn't mean to tease him, honestly. It was innocent. It was always something innocent... until it wasn't. Until you managed to push enough that he decided it wasn't, because there was no way he was rock hard over some harmless little antics of yours. Or, maybe it was the fact that it was so innocent that got him so hot and bothered.

As much as he loathes to admit it, he gets a kick out of defiling you. You call it a kink, he calls it human nature (only for him, though, forbid another man thinks about the things he does.) Regardless, you tease him without meaning to all the time. The comfortableness you feel with each other allows your walls to come down, and unintentionally make something else of his rise. It was a good thing to be so comfortable with your partner, after all, you'd insist. Not realizing what seeing you in nothing but his oversized t-shirt did to his mind.

It drove him wild the way your completely harmless antics managed to 'wake him up' so to speak. He felt like a helpless virgin, which... he sort of was before you, but he figured he'd grow out of that phase eventually. Feels like it only got worse with time, and yet he wouldn't trade it for the world. Content to spend the rest of his days blue balling himself so long as he gets to live that sweet domestic bliss with you.

Currently, you are in the kitchen, working on the breakfast you'd insisted on making for him. Sweet as it was, Caleb was never really one to accept your acts of service without a fight, preferring to be the provider. It was a fight to get him to sit down and relax for once; one of his scarce days off should be spent decompressing, letting you treat him for once. He sat on the couch watching the news for all of ten minutes before he got annoyed and wandered to the kitchen.

He knew better than to get in your space, so he leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a glower. It softens when you send a smirk over your shoulder, brushing off his pouting effortlessly as you glide around his kitchen. It was too cute a sight to stay mad, anyway. His old t-shirt - the one he got from his high school honors program that he couldn't fit into anymore - hardly covers your ass, giving him just the smallest glimpse of your panties each time you reached up or shifted just right.

You shift from foot to foot as you work on the pancakes - apple cinnamon, his own recipe, of course. Hair pulled away so he could see the evidence of your late-night activities peek from just beneath the collar of his shirt. If that wasn't enough to send him into a catatonic state of domesticity, you would look at him every few moments, like you were waiting for him to do something. Sultry little pout tossed over your shoulder, gliding over his bare chest, just over the dick print in his grey sweats, then turning around like you weren't being the biggest tease in the world.

Normally, Caleb would let it slide. Normally, he'd roll off your teasing with a bright smile and a halfhearted scolding. Normally, he had somewhere to be in the morning, so he couldn't afford to give in. Today was not a normal day. Today was a rest day, and what better way to rest than indulging in all the desires he'd purposefully pushed off until now?

He cages you between his arms when you look away, moving a fluffy pancake to the plate set next to you. They looked perfect; you'd followed his recipe exactly. Too bad he wasn't craving pancakes right now, and judging from the way you giggle when his lips graze your shoulder, you weren't either.

"Feeling hungry?" You laugh, reaching a hand back to scratch the base of his skull like he was an overgrown mutt.

One of his hands slides to turn off the stove, then wraps around your hip, pressing you back into his crotch. You feel how hungry he is, poking at your buttocks through the minimal layers of clothing both of you are wearing. Open-mouthed kisses across all exposed flesh he could reach further incriminate him, urging you to give in.

"Starving," he groans.

"Well then," you hum, turning to face him - he doesn't leave your skin for a moment, moving with you, "dig in."

He moans, lifting you up to the counter with a swift heft, spreading you out pretty for him. His lips trace down the fabric of his shirt while his fingers inch it up over your hips, humming satisfied when they find skin to ravish again. He makes a fast trail to your clothed entrance, pressing his nose to the wet fabric and taking a deep whiff. Another groan grumbles out of his chest, and in another moment, he's licking along the slick staining the fabric.

You both moan at the sensation, Caleb's muffled by you and you by your hand. He tugs you closer, tossing your legs over his shoulders, surrounding himself with your thighs. No escape, not that he had any intention of leaving. He looks up at you, smiling when he notices how you try to hide, eyes darting around the room like that would help you.

Gently, he takes the hand covering your mouth, settling it firmly on his head. He doesn't let go of your wrist until you weave the soft locks through your fingers, scratching at his scalp just like you had earlier. You get an encouraging little smile for it, a soft kiss pressed to your thigh as a reward. His other hand tucking your panties to the side, revealing your hot sticky cunt to him. You clench reflexively when he licks his lips, amethyst eyes finding yours again as he spreads your lips.

Slowly, deliberately, without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses your clit. Your mouth falls open because that might just be the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. You think you might need a million pictures of the way he looks at you as his lips pucker against the sensitive bud. Unfortunately, you don't get to stare at it for too long, as Caleb is as insatiable as he is in love with you. Eyes falling closed as he brings his tongue across your folds, lapping the juices there up like a thirsty dog.

Your fingers curl tightly into his scalp at the sensation, pressing him closer with a pathetic noise. Somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, addicting to a man like Caleb. His mouth dips down to your entrance, a loud slurping ringing in your ears as he drinks up the juices that leaked out from your needy hole. Tongue working in steady rolls, still not quite experienced, but moving exactly like you needed him to. Your clit does not go neglected, nose nudging against it with his eager movements. His head bobbing excitedly with each shameless slurp, and he really does remind you of a dog like this.

When his tongue plunges as deep as he can get it, you whine out his name, thighs clenching around his head. It slides in far too easily, like it was made to be there, which certainly does something for his ego. You lock your feet behind his back, trying to roll your hips into his uneven rhythm with little success. Not that he needed the help, you were already tumbling over the edge when you lifted your hips the first time. Fucking yourself against his face, elongating your orgasm for as long as he allows you to. And he allows you to for a while, long enough that he's able to force a second one out of you in your frenzy.

Only when you slam your head against the cupboard does he force himself back, concern overpowering his need to eat you out until you can't speak. You whine at him, trying to force him back down, but he isn't having it as he checks you over. He laughs at you when he decides that you're fine, pinching your cheek like you were a petulant child and not his very overstimulated, needy girlfriend.

"You want more? You already came twice, pips." He laughs, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead.

Instead of responding, you press your foot to his hard on, taking great satisfaction at the way he hisses. He catches you by your ankle, tugging your legs open so he can stand between them again. You pull him into a heated kiss, scooting dangerously close to the edge of the counter so you can press into him. You feel his resolve crack instantly, kissing you back like you were the very oxygen he needed to breathe.

"I need you inside, please," you murmur into the desperate dance of lips on lips.

Without argument, he tugs himself out of his sweats, pressing himself against your heat, "Since you've been so good, I think I can be nice, just this once."

You gasp as the tip slides between your folds, lubricating himself up with a few thrusts, then sliding into your desperate hole with little resistance. The stretch is accompanied by low whispers in your ear, cooing and coaxing you, "Goooood girl, that's right, you take it so well," and "Breathe, princess, I've got you."

By the time you're done with each other, the pancakes are freezing cold, and Caleb decides it's time to start lunch instead. He's cooking this time.

[breadwithpoprocks-fandom]

additions:

@a-mind-of-color-blog :

OMG absolutely and I can absolutely see like, before he’s revealed as red hood Tim and Dick are like hella bitter. Like plotting looney toons level traps to get Jason to slip up in front of Bruce and lose his Goldechild status and it always fails (or Jason turns it so he comes out looking even better) and there getting so frustrated and then. Jason is just. Revealed as Red Hood?

Tim and Dick absolutely loose it: “WHAT!! This whole fucking time we just had to focus on getting dad to bust your shitty crime ring?!!?”

@aviolettrose (adding onto prev) :

Dick and Tim are the last kids staying

•Damian stopped trying when he saw Jason tripping more than once over air

•Cass stopped after Jason helped her with her speaking and asl

•Duke stopped after Jason helped him with an science project

•Steph figured out that Jason is RH and never said anything because thanks to him, Crime Alley got better

But Tim and Dick never stopped because Tim always got compared to Jason. Dick because he has this feeling that there is something and he needs to know what.

Jason: shitty crime ring? Excuse me, it took the whole JL to get me. They only managed it because I didn't want to fight against Wonder Woman, and in the moment, I became careless she was able to catch me. And you guys never noticed anything.

Bruce: You were able to trick not only us but you were able to hold yourself against the JL?

Jason: yes

Dick and Tim:🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

Bruce: I'm proud of you son

Dick and Tim: OH COME ON!? Are you fucking kidding me?!

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

@krilati :

There's no way Tim didn't know!

Tim is stalker and Jason is his favorite Robin.

He knows everything. But I'm pretty sure he thinks everyone else already knows. They're too paranoid to talk about it out loud.

Tim is sure that B just doesn't want JL to find out that his son is a crimelord.

They don't know how to talk, this is a normal situation.

@rubydubydoo122 (adding to prev) :

No, Tim was about to find out but then Jason was like ‘do you want to be Robin’ to throw him off scent.

Now Tim’s too busy

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@isupposethisisagoodusername :

Jason, at the biweekly dinner at the manor where everyone goes: Something wrong guys? You all seem awfully tired.

A bit after Bruce rescued Jason from the Joker and he retired, a new criminal showed up.

Red Hood, a crime lord that quickly takes over the Gotham underworld. He's violent and brutal, kills some people but usually refrains from it. He does shoot live rounds and injures people terribly but rarely ever murders.

And the bats are losing their shit over it, they just can't catch the guy, rarely ever crossing paths with him as if he knew their patrol routes and where each of them was at all times.

Jason, at the biweekly dinner at the manor where everyone attends, it's mandatory, if someone doesn't go they get a disappointed letter from Alfred and it fucks everyone up: Hey guys, are you alright? You seem all awfully tired.

Bruce, worried about telling Jason too much to not stress the poor kid out: Don't worry about it kiddo, just a new criminal worrying us.

And Dick catches the small glint of mischief in Jason's eyes as he agrees and drops the subject like Jason would've caught the same glint in his own eyes when they were younger and Dick pulled some prank.

Dick, later that night: alright little Wing. What's up with you? You're plotting something I can tell.

Jason, faking idiocy: me? What, come on, I'm not. You're just upset I moved on from being Robin. Wanna play videogames and eat cereal?

Dick, wanting to play videogames and eat cereal now: I wish, sorry. I've got patrol scheduled for tonight.

Red Hood, even later that night, taunting Nightwing with some dumb voice changer on: Come on Nightwing, where do you think you are, at home playing videogames?

It pisses Dick off so much that Jason legit has to fucking hide to not get caught and he doesn't even know how he managed to escape.

Jason doesn't taunt Dick anymore after that.

Then, one week, Jason is away for some nerd thing and Red Hood shows up on the other side of the country.

Without all the knowledge of where the heroes would be, Red Hood gets caught.

They bring him to the Watchtower and call Batman.

Superman: Batman, I think you'll like to know that we caught that Red Hood criminal of yours.

Batman goes over there with Nightwing because Dick has been dying to beat him up.

Wonder Woman pulls off the helmet and of course the dramatic theater kid fuck has a domino mask underneath that shit.

Red Hood, ashamed, looking the other way with a dumb apologetic smile on: Hey dad.. I can explain...

Nightwing folds over laughing.

Nightwing, fallen on the floor while Batman laughs softly: I fucking knew it you dick!

Red Hood, offended to be called by his brother's designation: Hey fuck you! You're the Dick here!

Batman starts laughing because now they're both bickering like they would as children.

The League is scared because Batman doesn't laugh.

Dick takes so many pictures with Jason tied up and then a concerning amount of children with bat symbols on their suits of armour show up to also take selfies with him.

Red Hood, being untied: I hate you all.

Nightwing jumps him and suddenly all of the children are sparring in the middle of the Watchtower.

The League is concerned for Batman's sanity.

After that, Red Hood is taken off the wanted list and gets a bat symbol on his chest.

He also takes selfies with Wonder Woman.

@aviolettrose (adding onto prev) :

I like this take of the prompt!

I (my opinion) wouldn't "create" the red hood shortly after Jason was rescued, but a few years later, after he traveled and was trained by multiple people (like Talia, Lady Shiva, Duraca, maybe even Ghostmaker idk) (he would blackmail Talia (she and Bruce dated and Jason figured out that she just wanted his DNA for a child) to train him, and they would have after a while a mother-son bond, but after she realized Jason was in danger she sent him away to the All-Castle where he would meet some other people who could train him.)

Also, Jason would try everything to keep the facade of the Golden Boy up, so I don't think that he would taunt Dick, for him to find out so easy

But I love your take on it 🙏🫶

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@twodimensionalboyfriend : he becomes a crime lord on “accident” after an encounter with some people mugging a mom and her son. he manages to save them and scare the mugger off. so he tells a few people what happened to spread word and be careful. word spreads to the gang that runs that block, so they let jason know that they’re gonna look out for him and keep him updated if they ever see anything. jason sees this as an opportunity to keep the neighborhood safe in a way gotham pd was never able to. he then works to acquire more territory through whatever means necessary, and go out as red hood to personally patrol the streets; all while studying for his midterms!!

@profoundlyprocrastinating (adding onto prev) : Jason the accidental crime lord would actually slap

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@spirit-fingers22 :

Bruce, finding out Jason is Red Hood in this AU: WHAT??? JASON!!!

Jason: I had a reason

Bruce: WHAT WAS THE REASON???

@aviolettrose (adding to prev) :

Jason: ... I was bored

Dick: BORED?! WITH YOUR- WAIT. Did you even get your degrees?!

Jason: Of course I did, Dickhead. Who do you think I am ? Tim?

Tim (on the phone): Hey.. Highschool is not for everyone

Dick: So let me get this straight. You got multiple degrees, (other good stuff), while you're one of the most feard crimelords?

Jason: jup

Bruce: *strangly proud*

comments:

@magical-awesome-kid : I’m CRYING!!! Also Diana and Clark know all about Bruce’s one “good, non-crime fighting” kid, and they are both just staring at Bruce being like “nope. You’re just as bad as the rest of us at keeping your kid out of the mess.” Jason does get a clean slate after he explains his operation is largely an undercover operation to protect people, but Dick frames the picture of him tied up.

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : both of them are also freaking out because they have Jason as a babysitter. "TF you mean you didn't knew that your SON sent a duffle bag full of heads to "mAkE a StAtEmEnT". Best detective in the world, my ass!" And Jason just sits there and says, "Oh please, those heads where from pedophiles who had a record of SA children, if anything I did you a favor."

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@owlithere : it'd be even more fun if Jason continued to learn things from LoA and all castes, simply in the form of study trips: everyone thinks he's at some university in Mongolia, the Middle East or wherever, when he got someone to teach him; still've bandits etc so it's not just one secret, it's much more

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : I thought about it as well! That he went on trips where "he builds homeless shelters all over the world", when in reality, he went to the LoA or to the all Castle or he went to Lady Shiva to train his martial arts skills

@owlithere (responding to prev) : also the comedy would have reached its peak if he still has his outlaws (superhero friends - he was Robin so it's expected, but not to this extent) who knew about some of his secrets but never mentioned it, just rolled with it and helped him from time to time

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : YES! Dick feels betrayed because "what do you mean two of my exes knew?!" But also Damian knows the whole lore. He knew it already when he moved in first, because he was still in the league when Jason went there, and Damian plays dumb like "What do you mean you didn't know that Todd was trained by mother? I thought it was an unspoken thing in our family. Like the fact that he has the All Blade". (Jason bribed him, back then, with showing him the All Blade)

(Damian regrets accepting the bribe back then because he could have gotten so much more). Bart is the only one who knew it from Tim's generation and everyone just thought he admired Jason because he was such a good person, but in reality he admired (and feared) him because he is one of the most wanted crimelords since he's 17

@owlithere (responding to prev) : Yes for both of your answers (I love Damian's assumption that it's an open secret and poor Bart and his future knowlage), but consider before he was exposed, Roy and Kori are easy to explain in an everyday situation, but Artemis and Bizzaro or Rose (Essence could propably pass as "weird" girlfirend)

[before being unmasked] Jason probably told them that he met Artemis to interview her about his "medical knowledge in a practical situation" essay and they didn't even bother to ask about Bizzaro, they (Bruce) just assumed he was helping him with his social skills because Bizz is like a big child (and Jay is good with them), Rose well Rose is harder maybe they met before maybe not

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : Everyone assumed that his relation (romantic or just friendship) with Artemis just happend is because Jason is a big Wonder Woman fan, and they just thought that it was like a worship thing, yk? Everyone thought he and Bizzaro get so along because Jason took "pitty" on him (his brother's thought that he befriended him because they thought that Jason saw that as a new "charity" thing). And everyone thought that Rose told Jason that

that she doesn't want to be like her father, and they broke up because Jason found out that she still is an assassin. But I haven't figured essence out, yet.

@owlithere (responding to prev) : Once again YES, he probably introduced Essence as his long distance girlfriend (later ex) that he met during college travels, everyone thinks she's a little weird but no more than "normal", they broke up because of said distance, BUT they are still in touch MOSTLY because Jason became friends with her grandmother (and the entire Batfam knows that Jay is liked by too many older women)

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : YES! (Also every partner of Jason has to life with the fear of their family either adopting him or asking him if he couldn't have done better)

@owlithere (responding to prev) : the comment about "if he couldn't do better" got me thinking about Kyle Rayner (and hopping dimensions with Donna), which would take a hell of a lot of explaining - both in the context of Kyle as potential friend/boyfriend and Donna's presence as Dick's twins wonder

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : uhh yes. Bruce asked Jason, after Kyle left, why he would date a lantern and if he couldn't find someone better. (Jason just looked at him and told him, "I don't wanna talk to you right now". He ignored Bruce for a whole month (he went on a business trip), and in this month, Bruce cried every day because his baby wouldn't talk to him. Jason only started to talk to him because Dick threatened him).

and Dick just feels betrayed. "First,you take Roy and Kor'i, and you guys know what? I forgive you guys for not telling me, even after you saw what he did to me. But you Donna? My friend. My sister from another mother. My TWIN in heart. You betrayed me for not telling me, and idk if I could ever forgive you. It's like as if Wally knew and never told me." Wally:👀 Jason:👀 (They know each other from college, and Wally knows because he saw the rh gear once)

@owlithere (responding to prev) : haha omg it just keeps getting better and better, Wally probably could have known it even earlier thanks to Bart (who hinted at it and based on the evidence Wally was sure of it). I like to think that in Kyle's situation, after he was bullied into coming back, Jason simply asked B if he was ready to be the adult in this relationship, and when B started complaining, he left again xD

can we put Constantine in the "knowing" category please? I want someone older to know, to create more drama in JL, and Constantine is a good option for that. Maybe they met by chance at a bar and started complaining about Batman and bonded around it, and since Jason needed to learn more about magic and Constantin needed an extra pair of hands, they became friends, and now RedHood is on JL Dark's emergency contact list, and B didn't notice the addition

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : YES! He definitely knew, and therefore, Zatanna and Raven did, too. I like the fact that at this point, all of Dick friends are in the known. Imagine him complaining about his "perfect" little brother who, apparently, wants to study medicine after his English degree because his degree in business and English isn't enough. And the Titans just look at each other,like, who is gonna tell him?

@owlithere (responding to prev) : I'm crying, all of Dick's friends know, and now I want Tim's to know too, BUT Dick's didn't tell him, becouse a) comedy, b) not my circus not my monkeys mindset (Batfam is crazy), Tim's would assume, like Damian, that it was an open secret (they probably found out about it later than Dick's, beside Bart, but still) or made it an inside joke (well, Tim thinks it's a joke - Jay doesn't have enough time to do it - should be imposible)

ALSO Con found out through Lex and his contacts with RedHood and al Ghuls and assumed that RH was simply a representative of the Batfam when it came to Lutor's "new way of life" (at least in a universe where he is a decent father), Cass found out from Donna (she was telling her some story and forgot for a moment)

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : I can see Tim's titans making an "inappropriate" joke after a fight. Someone: "Damn, he looks bloody...like jay" and they laugh except Tim. Tim just looks at them and says, "Guys, that's not funny. I know I freak out sometimes because of him, but that's no excuse." And it was this moment that Bart realized, that he doesn't know that they know, and he tells the others like, "he doesn't know, that we know, that he doesn't know, you know?"

Ever since Tim's team make "inappropriate" jokes towards Jason. And Tim just assumes that sometimes they are really supportive friends or that his friends have a crush on Jason. And Cass knowing? Love it.

@owlithere (responding to prev) : Yes, Crush! That would also be a funny assumption on Tim's part. He would be so frustrated. NOW I really need someone to write like 100 chapters of this...

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@late-tothe-party-07 : Take it from the "Good Daughter". Just because a good kid is a good kid, doesn't mean they don't wanna beat up crap with a cool mask. They probably want to do it MORE than normal people

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : I know what you mean, sometimes you just need to release this "build up"

It's cheaper than therapy

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@x-atm099 : Additional Shenanigans: Jason accidentally became Red Hood/The most feared crime lord.

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : Clark gets a panic attack because he left his son with the most feared crimelord alone. More than once

Yes. Like, what do you mean the guy who hosts charity events for health care stuff, better access to knowledge and so on, is a class A Crimelord?!

@x-atm099 (responding to prev): Like, Falcone tells his driver just to hit the kids in the street instead of stopping/going around. Jason sees it's about to happen and saves the kids, but Falcone dies in the process. Ppl think Jason killed Falcone so other gangsters align with him. Reg ppl saw Jason save the kids so they're loyal to him. Jason gets picked up by some mobsters one day and he thinks he's gonna die but they bring him to his hideout and call him boss.

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : "Here is the monthly wrap up, Boss. Smith sold something to a child, we beheaded him and took the stuff back from the child. We made *a shit ton of money* every week this month. Oh, and Brigitte's dog, Sammy, died last Saturday." "Okay, thank you Miller. Now go back to work." 'Damn, I liked Sammy...' Or he gets "random" respect from criminals. Like idk, who ever is the villian of the week fights Robin and Jason just appears with sunny's, a red hoodie

And a face mask, and the villain just apologize to Red Robin and run away. Meanwhile Tim turns to Jason who stands there like, tf did I do now? And asks why he isn't in the batmobile waiting because "it's too dangerous for him"

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@nixeau : Jason's just pouting in that chair while Bruce processes everything and Dick's is absolutely taking pictures for the group chat

@kifkay : “dick, stop taking pictures, your brother is going to jail”

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : dick: Can I get his pictures from his imprisonment 😇😄😁(yk those pictures with those cards, idk what they're called)

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@why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat : It would be hilarious if Jason actually did get those degrees while starting his criminal empire (on accident, he swears on Bruce's parents graves!) so we could get a nice scene like. Jason's goons helping him with science, Jason going to Dick for help with math, Jason seemingly writing notes during his gangs meetings but actually writing an essay. His family would find him in really weird places (gargoyles, dumpsters, sewers) so he could get the 'right vibes' to study

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : Oh, he definitely did get those degrees (i was thinking about a business (bruce was the most proud by this one, because he wants to give Jason WE), english and maybe he wants to start a degree in medicine). Being one of the most feared crimelords ever is just one of his maaaany hobbies, like crocheting or playing like 10 different instruments

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@fortuna-majoris : And the thing is, he invests all the profit he makes into the betterment of the Crime Alley, also he only sells drugs to those who have prescription from a doctor and has paid for rehabilitation for the addicts. After learning all of this siblings are like, 'Can't you stop being the golden child for a minute?'

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : YESS Jason:..so yeah, that's a reason why I do this Dick: Stop. Just stop talking! Why do you have to be sooo perfect? I thought your little charity events are for that?! Did you even spend the money for that?! Why can't you be a crimelord for shit and giggles?! Jason: Of course I did, but it will never be enough, dickhead! Look at Crime alley now! There're better schools, and the drugs are controlled Dick: 🧍‍♂️Fuck you Bruce: *proud af* JL: error 404

@fortuna-majoris (responding to prev) : plus the college he went to, yeah that was true, (he also has a doctorate but only Bruce and Alfred know about it). But the one year sabbatical he took post college where he "travelled" was when he went to the LoA and trained. (Really Bruce should've realised it after he gave the same excuse to the public after he returned from his training)

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : Jason is doing meditation ways the same way Bruce and Khoa learned it, and Bruce is not realizing because he's happy that Jason has a healthy coping mechanism. Also, Jason corrects Damian by LoA moves, and everyone just assumes that he's a natural

@fortuna-majoris (responding to prev) : agreed. Tim was kinda suspicious of him after he visited (blew up) LoA but after Jason mentions the Dal Makhani of Delhi (he wasn't actually there) that he tasted during his 'travels', his suspicions slowly fade away

that is hilarious. Imagine him just telling Tim that he has never been to India and he regularly sends Talia letters and that Ra still has his spleen while laughing. He also tells Cass that she did well when she fought against Lady Shiva and that he was there to witness it. Imagine their frustration. It would be hilarious

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : YEEESSS, Jason correcting Damian by a LoA move and everyone just assumes that he's a natural lmao

@fortuna-majoris (responding to prev) : while Dames just side eyes him. But the very next moment, Jason trips over air and falls down. Dames then think that 'If mother has taught this fool, he wouldn't trip over air' and let's go of the suspicion

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@siliceouspebble : Why would he go on scholarship? Bruce is loaded!! He could afford to send all his kids to college multiple times over?!

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : Jason doesn't want to be dependent on Bruce. Dunno if you know that, but when you grow up poor, money will always be a complicated topic because you don't want to make yourself depending upon someone, and I want Jason to still have this mentality. He will tell Bruce that he wants to pay him back for all the medical bills from when he was rescued

@siliceouspebble (responding to prev) : I kinda thought about that but considered the angle of him thinking he'll be taking the scholarship away from talented people with no fallback plan besides heaping amounts of debt.

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : he could support the college with a part of the money he makes as a crimelord, so technically he would "pay" for his degree, while also paying for other scholarships

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@lenacraft : It would be funny if Jason actually does become a doctor and needs to Zeta down while after they’ve unmasked him. “I didn’t break the Hippocratic Oath because Red Hood is no a doctor.”

@fortuna-majoris (responding to prev) : personally, I think he would get a doctorate in English Literature and a masters in Teaching. But this scenario is hilarious

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : I thought that he already has his degree in Business (Bruce wants to give him WE ever since), does one in English currently, and wants to start medicine afterward, but maybe he did medicine since the beginning because he thought those doctors who helped him were amazing and he wants to help people

Jason straight up gaslight a while family of detectives

@fortuna-majoris (responding to prev) : ykw? Makes sense. As a person who wants to do Law and then (after retiring) wants a doctorate in English, I can get behind that

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : yes, Jason, part-time student, part-time crime Lord, while doing full-time professional gaslighting

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@u5an5 : I like the idea of him having A+ student priviliges, where he could straight up walk into public toilet in full suit, come out still wearing it besides his hood and only coment he'd get is "Looking good, Jay!" or ask them for details about something he has no reason to even know about in first place and they'd go "Oh wow, my brother shure cares about me, asking how my day went"

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : Yes, Past: Jason, still wearing his Red Hood gear except for his helmet: hard night? The others: Oh Jason, hun, don't worry about our silly little problems with Red Hood. Concentrate on your essay Now: The Bats: Are we really that dense? The JL: best detectives, our ass

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@hedgehogcryptid : This is a most blessed concept. His siblings looking at him being the golden child with perfect grades and dedicating any spare moment to charity, telling themselves "I could totally do that, I'm just too busy RISKING MY LIFE TO SAVE PEOPLE" but then finding out Jason was ALSO creating and running a lucrative criminal empire, getting extra training AND gaslighting his family about it, which would make the entire thing even harder and more time consuming. They'd be livid

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : lmao Jason: ...that's how I managed to do it, without you guys knowing anything Bruce: Jason, I know I should be mad, but I'm proud of you, actually. Dick: *eye tweaking* Yeah, we all are so proud. I mean, we barely manage it to keep our two life's super, and you managed it perfectly. Like you always do🙂 Other Batkids: Yeah, totally, proud Damian:...I'm still a child that has to count as a Joker, right? OBK: OH SHUT THE F UP! Now you're a child?!

@hedgehogcryptid (responding to prev) : The JL, after listening to Jason's confession: *nervous sweating* we are soooo lucky this kid has somewhat working morals. So so lucky

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : Jason: Also, I would never do anything against the JL JL: *no sweat* t-thats good to know Jason: Because I don't want to hurt Wonder Woman JL, to Diana, telepathically: If you leave us, we will kos The bats: of course, because of her

@hedgehogcryptid (responding to prev) : That was the only thing the bats knew for sure in this whole situation. He might have been lying about everything for years, but he was NOT lying about his admiration of wonder woman

@aviolettrose (responding to prev) : Jason would never lie about the women he admires (the bats thought that Jason dated Artemis only because she's Amazonian like WW, kinda like a worshiping thing, yk?)

tags:

@shadowkat2000 : #I feel like he was having a bad night frustrated studying and started brainstorming how to become a crime lord#just to distract himself#and then ended up having a good plan deciding fuxk it and did it

@mockerd3light : #this is fucking gold#delicious crack#of his sibs just DOGGING on him because they FINALLY have the dirt on the 'golden child'#what was that bruce??#'why cant you take a break and go to college like Jason?' 'why dont you give up this dangerous line of work like Jason?'#'my pride and joy' Jason who is a CRIME LORD#get WRECKT Bruce

@fantasycantasy : #fuck dude this is incredible#I think Dick would laugh so hard he’d either pass out or piss himself#Jason being an icon

@ive-been-mostly-dead-all-day : #i love everything about this#its just#SO fucking funny#hands down the BEST day in each of his siblings' lives#not a single one of those bastards are ever going to let him live this down#i feel like there should be a plot twist somewhere about tim knowing about this#but they had a MAD-style agreement because tim is also routinely lying to bruce's face about all sorts of shit#“Keep your mouth shut about this and I won't tell Bruce about the batmobile you hid in the batarang budget”

fanfic spawned from this:

@ezra129799 's A Golden Child Painted Red

@radioactivepidgeons 's A young goat with my friends /and/ Your share of the inheritance /and/ Prodigal Son (Ao3) (tumblr)

A fanfic idea:

Bruce was able to rescue Jason before he died, and after this experience, Jason stopped being Robin.

He became afterwards the golden child, he goes to college (with a scholarship), helps out in the city library, teaches children (helps with their homeworks and helps them to study), works part time in a car garage in crime alley, and is a supportive brother.

And it pisses his siblings off.

Because there has to be something fishy because no one, really no one, is that perfect.

And there is something fishy.

He is also Red Hood.

No one knows, and the vigilantes never talk to Jason about "the family business" because he needs to concentrate on his studies and other stuff.

So imagine, Batmans suprise when the JL was able to catch Red Hood.

Someone takes Jasons helmet off in front of Batman, Nightwing, and other members

And Jason, who wears also a domino mask, doesn't look Batman in the face even as he says :

"Hey Dad. I can explain."

And Dick loses his shit, he laughs so hard because, Jason, The golden child, the one who gave up on being a vigilante, who reads to children in the library, is a goddamn crimelord.

Bruce just stands there frozen because wtf Jason?!

And Dick takes selfies with Jason being tied up and calles the other Batkids in because they should definitely not be left out of it.

(Edit: As someone who doesn't really write (or can write good stories), I want to say, feel free to use this prompt for a fanfiction. Just please give credits to me (because I don't know if someone else had also this idea and posted it) and please inform me if you publish something (because I want to read a fanfiction like this too))

[ln4z]

but it's the way you smile that does it for me [ 18+ ]

praise, praise, praise, praise!!! team principal!oscar, age gap is not specificed — upto the reader's imagination, mentions of reader having daddy issues

thinking about team principal!oscar know you like the back of his hand. he knows that a pout will form on your lips if the hospitality doesn't have chocolate milk from a particular brand. he knows that you're gonna smile and giggle when he sprays you with champange after winning. he knows that you're gonna sulk about p4. he knows that you sometime get quite after races not because you're tired or upset but because the world was too loud and you need to be in your space.just like now. you won the race, smiled on the podium, giggled exactly the way you do when he sprayed you with champagne. but in your driver's room you were oddly—uncharacteristically quite.

"what's with you?" he says taking the seat on the couch in your driver's room. you already showered and changed into to a brown halter neck top paired with mini white tennis skirt. "what do you mean?" you raised a brow wearing the 81 necklace—the same number he raced for years ago now lies with you. fans think the 81 is for you. but in reality it's about both of you."you're quite." he quipped. "i'm always like that." you continued to pack your suitcase—not sparring a galnce at him. "come here." he said. baffled, when you ignored his call. "i'm talking to you. come here." it was a stricter tone this time. in a tone he knew you would listen. it implied — don't bullshit me right now.

and obviously, obviously you trotted over. letting him place you in lap. his arm immediately snaked behind your bare back like a muscle memory. "talk to me darling, what happened?" and he was back, using the tender tone he always used with you. oscar brushed a strand of your hair out of your face.

"i don't like how the race went." your voice was low—almost ashamed—as you played with the rings on his fingers to avoid eye contact.

"but you won it." he pointed out."i know." you sighed. "but i just don't like how he had to help me to win the race. i can do it in my own." referencing about how 'he' as in your temmate had to put pressure on another driver to stop him from catching up so that you could pull away.

oscar have no idea where—the entire "winning is first place, everything else is loosing" mentality—it comes from. probably from trying to claw your way up into motorsports as a woman. but all he knew was that he had to undo all that mentality etched in you. even if takes all his life.

so his heart breaks a little when you say "i can do it on my own." warm and painfully young doe eyes looking up at him desprate to prove yourself. desperately trying to say, "i am good—please believe me."

"o'my darling." he mumbled against your head. "you don't need to prove that to anyone—specially me." he whispered, voice dipping into something impossibly soft. with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, lips sticky with lip gloss pulled into a pout. oscar could feel the wet faint tacky print near his collarbone. your perfume smelled like trouble—a flirty, powdery floral that always made his head spin.

that damn halter barely holds together behind your neck, the knot sitting pretty just under his jaw as you breathes. and he hates it.no—he loves it.he tilted your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze. "you're a natural on the track, and nothing, not even a little help from your teammate, can change that. you're strong, you're smart, and you're bloody fast. believe in yourself, sweetheart." and that was true. before anything—or anyone—oscar noticed your talent. not your face, your speech, your background, the sway of your hips—nothing, just your pure talent behind the wheel.

"you've earned every bit of that victory," he murmured, his hand sliding down onto your thighs. "you're the one behind the wheel, making the decisions, pushing the car to its limits. no one can take that away from you." he kissed your temple. "and well can you stop moving?" you couldn't help but laugh at his request. "are you really getting horny while trying to comfort me?" you chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. "i'm a man at the end of the day no?" he smirked—somewhat glad that the pout was wiped off of your face.

"can i?" your breath hitched as his hand slipped, under the hem of your skirt. "yeah." you nodded before relaxing into his touch—legs parting slightly. "you know, you earned every inch of that win." he breathed, his voice a low growl. "your skill, your determination—no one can take that away from you." fingers finding the edge of your underwear, tracing the line of them gently, and you shivered in anticipation.

"osc." you whispered as his thumb stroked the sensitive skin. you were wet, and you knew he could feel it. "you're so beautiful when you drive," he said, his voice thick with want. "the way you handle the car, the way you take control . . . it's mesmerizing." his fingers dancing around the your underwear — such a tease, driving you crazy with need.

"you're the best thing that's ever happened to this team" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "and you do it all on your own. you're not just a pretty face, you're the heart of it all." he pushed aside the fabric, his fingertips grazing the slick warmth. you gasped, arching into his touch.

your breathed hitched—eyes closing in pleasure. his fingers moved with purpose. his thumb found your clit and began to circle—his praises a sweet serendae that made your hips rock against his hand. "this is all yours. this team, me—all yours and your only." he murmured, sliding two fingers inside you, feeling you tighten around him. his breath hot against your skin as he watched yor face contort with pleasure.

your moans grew louder—panting more desperate, as his fingers worked their magic. "you're not just a pretty face. you're a champion. and you're all mine." his teeth grazing your earlobe sent shivers down your spine. oscar knew your orgasm was close. the way your hands cluthes his team-branded polo, the way you arched into him, the way your thighs threatened to shut.

oscar added another finger—all three curling into the right places. it was just a matter of time before his hand was stained with your insides and slick. you could feel your orgasm building—the familiar knot tightening in your core. his words, his touch, it all melded into one overwhelming sensation.

"you're so strong and all mine" he murmured, his fingers sliding in and out of you, his thumb pressing rhythmically on your clit. "so, so strong." your breathe grew heavy as your body began to tremble. "come for me, sweetheart. show me how much you've earned it."

and you complied—orgasm crashing over you like a wave, body shuddering in his embrace. you buried your face in his chest, muffling your voices as you rode out the pleasure. as you came down from your high, oscar held you tight, his hand still resting between yout legs. "you're incredible," he murmured, kissing the top of your head. "and get it drilled into that pretty head of yours yeah? because i don't wanna such crap about ever again—specially from you of all people." his tone was stricter now, almost reprimanding.

"osc." you pouted. "can you not use that tone? you remind me of my father." you added. oscar couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. "i was so gentle and yet you accuse me of sounding like your father?" a teasing smirk stretched onto his lips. "excuse me! you need to thank him. if it wasn't for him giving me daddy issues i wouldn't be here—all over you." well, you both ended up laughing at your words.

"mhmm, well i suppose i gotta thank him for two things you and your daddy issues." he kissed your forehead. "i didn't get traumatized for you to make fun of me." you shook your head—all in fun zest.

god, all the points, the materialistic lust—everything be dammed as long as he got you in his arms, all smiling, happy & and content.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being the non-mc significant other of lead guitarist! Sylus. part3

Imagine walking back into the pub where everything first started falling apart. The lights are dimmer tonight or maybe your eyes are still too tired to see them the same.

Imagine you did not come with the intent to argue. You come because your chest is too heavy and your heart is too loud. You come because something in you whispers that maybe there's still something worth hearing.

Imagine the pub owner sees you first. Her lips twitch with something between surprise and relief. "He's in the back." She said before you even ask. "Haven't touched a single drink. Haven't said a word.”

Imagine you nod and make your way past old wooden tables and soft murmurs of strangers who don't know how your world just cracked open a few nights ago.

Imagine your heart skipping as you see him. Sylus. Hood up, hands locked in front of him, staring at something small in his palm like it's the only thing keeping him together. You don't need to see it to know it's the pick. Your pick.

"Sylus." You say. His head snaps up. You expect surprise, but what you see is something worse, remorse. Deep, carved into his bones. Regret. "You..." His voice cracks. "You came back."

"I needed time." You tell him honestly, watching his jaw clench and release like he's bracing for impact. "I think I overreacted." "No." He says immediately, standing too fast. The table wobbles between you. "You didn't. You didn't overreact. I fucked up."

Imagine the way silence falls between you, tense but not hostile. Not anymore. "I didn't know you were there." He says, softer now. "I wouldn't have played it if I knew. Hell, I shouldn't have played it at all. That song..." He runs a hand through his silver hair. "That song was a ghost I thought I could bury by giving it one last breath. But instead... I ended up making you bleed."

Imagine you didn't speak. Not yet. He seems to need to say it all. "I looked at her because..." He looked ashamed, looking away from you. "I needed to see for myself that it was done. That whatever I thought I still carried was nothing but dust. And it was. It is. But by the time I realized that, I had already hurt the only person I ever wanted to sing for again."

Imagine he took a step closer and hold out something to you. Your pick. The one you gave him with his initials on it. The one that stayed behind when you left.

"You gave this to me like it meant something." He said. "And I threw it away with a song that wasn't ours. I betrayed your trust, and I don't deserve it back. But if you let me..." There was a pause. "If you still want me... I will never sing another note that doesn't have your name in it."

Imagine you take the pick from his hand slowly. His eyes search your face like he's memorizing it for the last time. "You sang like she still mattered." You say. "You looked at her like you forgot I existed."

"I didn't." He says. "Not for a second. I just got pulled back into a version of me I don’t ever want to be again. One that hides, one that lies, one that doesn't deserve the kind of love you gave me."

Imagine you look down at the pick in your hand. It's warm from his touch. He never stopped holding it.

"I'm not perfect." Sylus started, voice rough. "But I love you. More than anything. More than every song I’ve ever written, more than the stage, more than the past. I love you. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me."

Imagine the ache in your chest still lingering, but the edges beginning to soften. Maybe he didn’t choose the past. Maybe he just got caught in it. And maybe love isn't about never messing up. Maybe it's about choosing to stay even after the music stops. You look up at him. "Sit" You say quietly. And he does.

Imagine the two of you talking long after the bar begins to empty. No big declarations. No dramatic kisses. Just words. Honest, painful, healing words. You don't promise anything tonight. You don't have to. But for the first time since that song, Sylus looks at you like he found his rhythm again.

Imagine for the first time since you walked out, you believe it might be possible to stay. And maybe as selfish as it may sound. He was going to sing only just for you again.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: f*cking b*tch I knew I was forgetting something.

[icarusignite]

he leaves you out like a penny in the rain (p.2)

Pairing: Zayne Li x Non MC Reader

Summary: You spent years orbiting Dr. Zayne Li, but when a careless comment shatters the fragile bond you thought you’d built, you walk away. Only then does Zayne realize what he's lost.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst. slowburn. Zayne being emotionally constipated rip

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: I did not expect all the overwhelming love and feedback on part 1, so thank you so much to everyone who read and interacted, you made my day.

There will be a part 3 later to explore them getting even closer, and that will be more fluff (I did say slowburn lmao). I know they don't technically kiss and make up in this one, but that would be unrealistic, and this chapter is essentially Zayne having an existential crisis lmao. Gotta make our man suffer a little. I may also make this a whole series with more snippets of their life together (dates, workplace shenanigans, wedding, etc.) cuz I am rather attached to the concept of Zayne x coworker lmao. As always would love ot hear yalls thoughts <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

"I didn't ask for her kindness. She's not helping anyone by wasting time with personal errands. If she spent as much energy on her department as she does playing nursemaid, maybe the pediatrics wing would run on schedule."

Zayne regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. In his head, they'd sounded like a neutral observation spoken in the abstract. But out loud? They were undeniably brutal.

He didn't even realize how harshly it had come across until he saw Miss Hunter's expression change. The easygoing smile slid off her face, and her eyes narrowed. She began gathering the files strewn across his desk in silence.

Zayne frowned. "What are you doing?"

Miss Hunter scowled without looking up. "Sometimes I forget that I'm speaking to someone with the emotional availability of a brick."

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes as she shoved a folder into her bag. "I do sincerely hope, for your sake, no one else heard you say that. Your colleague may be a lot of things, but incompetent is not one of them. I've never seen anyone work as hard as she does. She bends over backward for her patients, stays longer than anyone else, and still finds time to show basic human decency to the people around her. You don't have to like her, Zayne, but don't you dare belittle her like that."

Zayne opened his mouth to reply, but the woman had already thrown her coat over one shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Didn't you say you needed my help with the case? That is why you've been coming in, haven't you?"

"I think I have what I need. Someone from the Association will give you a call if we require anything else." Her eyes met his one last time. "Thank you for your time, doctor. Now don't let me waste any more of it."

Then she was gone, and the silence she left behind was deafening. It wasn't like her to walk out like that. Frigid departures were his specialty.

He sat down slowly, but didn't open the file in front of him. Instead, his eyes drifted to the spot on his desk where you used to leave his tea for him.

Miss Hunter was kind. You were, too. He never quite understood why people like that kept finding their way into his life. He seemed terrible at keeping them there. And now, he was starting to understand why.

The words he'd said earlier soured in his stomach, replaying in his mind like a low-grade headache he couldn't medicate away. He didn't even know why he'd said them. It wasn't like him to speak without thinking.

Miss Hunter was one of his oldest friends. She had known him long before he was "Dr. Li." Back when he was just Zayne. She knew his tells better than anyone.

If she had caught him glancing at you every time you entered his office, she would have known immediately. She would have teased him mercilessly, bothered him about something he didn't even fully understand himself.

And she was your friend, too. Which meant she would've told you.

He certainly hadn't wanted that. It would ruin things.

Not that there was anything to ruin, technically. You weren't involved. You weren't his. You weren't anything more than a colleague.

From the early days of med school to the quiet corners of the hospital now, you flitted in and out of his life with a warm drink in one hand and a smile on your face, offering sugar and comfort like it cost you nothing.

Zayne knew better than to believe it was just for him. You were like that with everyone.

You brought donuts for the night shift nurses, slushies for interns melting in the summer heat, and hot cider during the freezing winter. You volunteered to cover holidays and swapped shifts without complaint. You remembered birthdays, favourite snacks, and which residents were allergic to almonds.

You were a kindness machine, and he hated that it still got to him. Sometimes it was hard not to feel like there was something different about the way you smiled at him, and when you slipped out of his office after each delivery, Zayne found it nearly impossible to concentrate afterward.

Your presence left ripples. He had insinuated that you were a distraction, but not because you hindered the hospital. No, you were a distraction to him. When you were gone, he was thinking about you, and when you were near, he couldn't think at all.

So why had he said what he said?

Because he didn't want Miss Hunter to know what he was feeling? Because he didn't want you to know?

Zayne took off his glasses and rubbed the space between his eyes. He still didn't have a good answer. The only real explanation was the simplest, and the hardest to admit: He'd been cruel. And now he felt the guilt of it like a stone in his throat.

Zayne wasn't the kind of man who tracked people's comings and goings. He only paid attention to pathology reports, test results, and charts with clear logic. He didn't count footsteps in the hallway or wonder where someone's voice had gone.

At least, not until yours had been missing for three days.

At first, he told himself it was a good thing. You were keeping your distance, finally, after all this time. No more interruptions. No more unsolicited desserts or stickers pressed onto his notes like a child's reward chart.

He had, after all, been pulling away from you, too. Maybe you'd finally taken the hint.

He should've been relieved. This distance was what he wanted, wasn't it? He'd convinced himself that if you were gone—if your presence stopped softening the corners of his day—then he'd finally be able to focus again. Be more efficient. More himself.

But to his growing dismay, the effect was the exact opposite. He could focus even less.

He spent too long rereading documents, missed the timing on his own schedule, and found his attention drifting in the middle of patient reports. Every time he turned a corner and didn't see you, he wondered where you were. When he passed the pediatric ward and didn't catch a glimpse of you hunched over a chart or joking with a young patient, he slowed to search without meaning to.

Maybe you were on vacation. That was rational. Doctors took leave all the time, and you of all people deserved one. But when he asked a pediatric nurse in passing, he got an answer that deflated every illusion he'd been holding onto.

"She's still on duty," the nurse explained. "Very busy. You know how she can be."

That was worse. You were close by, and still not coming around. It became harder to ignore.

Occasionally, he'd get a glimpse of your coat disappearing down a hall, or the top of your head as you ducked into the operating theatre, but never your face. And he certainly never saw you in his office again, even when you should have been there.

His desk was cleaner now. No crumbs from lemon cake, and no more paper cups of oolong. During his breaks, he found himself rifling through his drawers, trying not to look at the stack of stickers he kept there. The ones he peeled off and meant to toss, but never did.

There was the glittering, heart-shaped one you'd slapped onto his clipboard months ago. A cartoon cat, a kidney with googly eyes, and a shiny peach. You'd stuck that last one on his stethoscope once, and he hadn't taken it off for days, claiming it made his youngest patients smile.

But really, it was because it made you smile.

By the fifth day of your absence, he found himself looking up every time his office door opened. He dared not say aloud what he was hoping for, but the disappointment in his expression was telling enough when his guest never turned out to be you. He hadn't realized how often you used to cross his path until you didn't anymore.

On the sixth day, he lingered by the pediatric nurses' station, claiming he was checking up on a shared patient, but he didn't find you.

On the seventh, he stopped by the eastern stairwell just before midnight, the one he knew you liked to take instead of the elevator because you were trying to get your daily steps in. It was empty, but he waited for fifteen whole minutes.

By the end of the week, something in his chest felt too tight. The silences were heavy, and his tea never tasted right because he had to make it himself.

It was nearing midnight when Zayne finally finished logging the last of his post-op notes. The hospital had thinned to its late-shift hush, leaving only the occasional overhead call and the low hum of fluorescent lighting that never truly turned off.

The unexpected sound of knocking almost made him flinch, but when the door opened, his shoulders practically slumped in disappointment.

"No need to look so disheartened by my presence," his colleague, Dr. Greyson, teased. "I'm only here to drop off patient files, as you requested."

Zayne didn't respond.

"I really wish you hadn't scared off our caffeine supplier, though," Dr. Greyson continued, unaware of the subtle shift in the man's demeanour at the mention of you.

"Excuse me?"

"You know. The doctor who used to swing by with desserts. She hasn't come by in a whole week. The whole cardiology department is suffering. Morale's at an all-time low."

Zayne rolled his eyes. "I hardly think anyone's suffering."

Greyson tilted his head, watching him with that infuriating look that said I know more than you think I do."Did you scare her off or something? You used to get visits like clockwork. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I find myself missing that 'you-forgot-to-eat-again' look of pity she used to give all of us."

"She is probably busy. As you should be."

Greyson clicked his tongue. "I'm not trying to pry—well, maybe I am, just a little—but I figure if she stopped showing up, and you started passing by pediatrics like you're casing the joint, something must've happened."

"Nothing happened," Zayne muttered stiffly.

"Sure. Except for the part where she's been sending interns to collect your reports instead of coming herself. And the part where you've looked like someone kicked your cat for three days straight. You're not as subtle as you think."

"It's none of your business."

"Isn't it?" his colleague drawled. "Because it's starting to affect your concentration. You missed a detail on that post-op note yesterday. Not like you."

Zayne's lips pressed into a thin line. "It was corrected immediately."

"Doesn't mean I didn't notice." Then he added, more gently, "You know, if she's avoiding you, there's probably a reason."

Dr. Greyson's words echoed long after he departed.

Zayne scoffed at first, but the question refused to dislodge itself, settling under his skin like a splinter he couldn't quite reach.

What had he done? What could he have done?

He turned the thought over again and again, as if studying it from every clinical angle might make it reveal itself.

Yes, perhaps he'd been colder than usual lately, but that wasn't new. You'd known him long enough to recognize the ebb and flow of his moods. You used to tease him about it. "Dr. Li, did your coffee betray you again today?" or "Should I come back when the glacier thaws?"

You always came back because you weren't the type to hold a grudge. And certainly not the type to vanish without a word. If something bothered you, you would have said it.

So, why disappear?

The only thing he'd done differently, the only deviation from the constant rhythm of your companionship, was—

His stomach turned.

No.

There was no way.

Had you heard what he said to Miss Hunter that night? Or worse, had she told you herself?

Miss Hunter wasn't the sort to do that, especially if she knew it would hurt you. But you hadn't been working that night. He'd checked the rota; you weren't even on call.

His voice sounded vindictive in hindsight. He had only meant it as a deflection. A way to keep Miss Hunter from pressing further into places he hadn't yet dared to look himself. He hadn't thought—

He hadn't thought.

His gut twisted. That would explain your absence. You hadn't simply disappeared, you'd withdrawn. And not just from him, but from his whole department.

He'd done something worse than push you too far. He'd made you feel small and irrelevant.

Zayne exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair, overcome with guilt. He didn't know what he was going to do. He wasn't good with apologies. He wasn't even sure how to begin, but something had to be done.

If not for himself—he still wouldn't allow himself that admission—then at least for the others. For the people who looked to you. For the space you had filled so effortlessly, that now felt so cold and painfully quiet.

Maybe, if he could fix this, you'd look at him again the way you used to. Maybe it was time for him to stop watching his door and finally go knock on yours.

The next week, Zayne finally mustered the courage to approach you. He stood just by your office, waiting for you to arrive, but when you finally did, you were moving too quickly for him to say anything. Your shoulders were tensed as you ducked past him, and without thinking to ask for permission, he followed you inside.

You didn't even acknowledge his presence. You were hunched over a drawer, rifling through it with your good hand. The other one—your dominant, he noticed—was clenched in a bloodied fist, a crimson thread trickling from between your fingers and down your wrist.

"You're hurt," he murmured.

You ignored him, yanking open another drawer with more force than necessary. Your good hand trembled as you pulled out the first aid kit, and it clattered onto the desk, spilling slightly.

He took a step forward. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

Still no response, and Zayne was forced to watch as you clumsily opened the box, tugging at alcohol wipes and sterile gauze with one hand, fumbling with the bandage roll like it had personally offended you. When the antiseptic hit your wound, you hissed, and that was the last straw.

Zayne reached for your wrist, and you pulled back as if stung, your blood-slicked palm cradled awkwardly against your chest.

"I just want to—"

"Leave me be!" you snapped. "Please. I have work to do."

He didn't raise his voice. "You can't work like this."

"I am working like this."

"You can't take care of your patients if you can't take care of yourself."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Is this your way of calling me incompetent again? Believe me, Dr. Li, I have no time for you right now."

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed impatiently. "I'm not trying to—look, please, just let me help. You can snap at me all you want afterwards."

Without waiting for your response, he firmly nudged you in the direction of your chair, and you let him because standing suddenly felt too exhausting. Maybe the adrenaline had worn off, or maybe you were just too tired to argue anymore. You kept your mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line as he worked.

Zayne didn't speak either, kneeling beside you tentatively. He did not look at your face as he pried open your fist, his frown deepening as he examined the wound. Then he cleaned it with uncharacteristic tenderness, wiping away the blood and wrapping the gauze, his fingers stalling against your skin a beat too long.

When he finally stood to pack the kit away, you stood too, your anger spilling past your lips in a venomous tumble.

"My apologies for wasting your precious time with personal errands, Dr. Li," you practically sneered. "But you don't have to play nursemaid anymore. You do have a department to run, after all."

His own words thrown back at him. Zayne winced, but met your gaze without faltering. He deserved every bit of your resentment. "That was...certainly warranted."

You scoffed, pressing your wrapped hand into your lap. "Damn right, it was."

He nodded stiffly, absorbing the blow without complaint. He would accept your barbed words because at least you were speaking to him. Anything was better than your silence.

"I..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

When all you could do was glower at him, he adjusted his lab coat just to have something to do with his hands.

"I have no excuse for what I said. Or for what you heard," he continued. "It was... awful. And cruel. And I was wrong. You work harder than anyone else here. You work too hard. And I never should've implied otherwise. I'm sorry."

"I don't accept it," you said simply.

"I—"

"I don't care if that makes me petty. I'm allowed to be angry. You don't get forgiveness just because you decided to feel bad about it now."

Zayne's mouth parted in protest. "I know this is about the conversation you overheard, and I—"

"The one where you called me pathetic? Questioned my competence? You essentially said I've been neglecting my job because I bring my colleagues refreshments every now and then?"

"You must know...I had no intention of hurting you."

"Didn't you?" You stepped back, putting some distance between the two of you. "Because I remember every word. Every. Word. And believe me, it wasn't the first time I've been told I'm not good enough to be here. I just never thought you'd be the one to say it."

He flinched, but you didn't give him the chance to say anything else.

You tipped your head toward the door. "Please leave, Dr. Li. As per your earlier suggestions, I am working on managing my time better, and part of that includes not engaging in pointless conversations."

You followed him to the door, closing it in his face with a click. It was worse than if you had slammed it, because this felt too final.

He was just about to leave when he heard the strangled sound from the other side. A whimper and then a quiet sniffle. Zayne stood frozen in place, hand hovering over the doorknob, wishing he could offer more than the hollow apology he had.

His voice, when it came, was hoarse. "Truly, I am sorry."

For the first time in all the years he had known you, there was nothing else he could say.

Zayne didn't try to speak to you again. You asked him to leave you alone, and he respected your decision enough to resist intruding into your life. But that didn't mean he stopped caring, and he certainly never stopped trying. He just changed the way he did it.

You never ran out of your favourite stationery, a new box appearing on your desk every time you were even close, and it seemed that someone had paid for a lifetime's worth of beverage orders at the cafe across the street where you frequented. Every time you showed up, the barista would grin at you and tell you that your order had been paid for, no matter what hour it was. It was absurd.

The nurses had started noticing, too. How Zayne signed off on consults for your shared patients before you could ask him to. And the fact that the smartboard in your office now auto-updated like clockwork because someone had programmed the algorithm to pull directly from the cardiology logs.

He didn't overstep, of course. He didn't want to do anything that would make you think he was questioning your competence or ability to get things done. He just handled the little things to make your life easier.

For Zayne, it wasn't about being forgiven. He wasn't delusional enough to think that any of this would win you over, but that wasn't the point. He just couldn't stand the thought of you being tired, overworked, or overlooked anymore.

He knew you were angry, and you had every right to be, but this was the only way he could think of to fix things. To anticipate your every need before it arose and solve it before it became a problem.

However, no matter how much he tried to stay out of your way, his eyes were always drawn toward you when he occasionally passed you by, like a reflex he couldn't kill. You never returned the look, and though it killed him, he never stopped refilling the frog stickers when the last sheet disappeared from your drawer, and making sure the lab results for your most critical cases were flagged top priority. He wasn't waiting for your gratitude. He just didn't know what else to do with the ache that sat where your laughter used to echo.

It became unbearable when he began messing with your break room. The one in the pediatric wing was barely even a room, really just a glorified closet with a dying microwave and a fridge that made suspicious humming noises when overfilled. But it had been your domain. A little corner of chaos you liked to keep warm for the interns and residents who rotated through your department, stumbling half-asleep between charts and crying toddlers.

You'd made it a habit to stock the cabinets with snacks. Caffeine bars. Gummy vitamins. Single-serve juice boxes and thermal mugs with weird slogans. It wasn't much, but it made the 2 a.m. shifts bearable. People had started calling it the "Sunshine Station."

But lately, something had shifted.

You didn't notice it at first because you were too busy. But then, one afternoon, you ducked into the room to grab the last apple juice from the mini fridge, only to find that the juice had already been restocked. Not just that, it had been rearranged neatly, the labels facing out. Right next to a new box of cereal bars that no one else even liked, but your most overworked intern swore kept her from fainting.

It was strange. You hadn't placed an order this month because you'd been shamefully distracted by your own indignation. When you checked the other cabinets, they were full too, and not just with generics, either.

The gummy vitamins were the exact kind your other interns liked, the ones shaped like bears instead of those awful chalky tablets. Whoever had placed the order had even remembered to get lactose-free yogurt.

When you asked around later that day, all you received were blank stares. Those who frequented the break room claimed that the items had been simply delivered as they always were, and that they thought you had been the one to handle it like you always did.

It unsettled you. For years, you had been the one to keep things stocked. You took pride in remembering everyone's favourites because you liked showing up for the people who worked under you. It mattered to you. But now it was as if someone had quietly picked up where you left off. Someone had taken the time to learn what your team liked. Someone who was trying very hard to make amends.

You shut the thought down fast. You didn't want to think about him.

But your interns had other ideas, it seemed.

The next evening, you were filling out patient notes at the corner table, half-tuned out, while they squabbled over a nearly empty box of mango pudding cups.

"I swear to god, Nam, that was my last one!"

"First come, first serve, Clara. You've had four already!"

"I'm dessert-loading for morale!"

You didn't intervene. Their bickering was strangely comforting, like white noise after too many days of stifling silence.

Clara finally wrenched the box from Nam's hands, only to gasp dramatically.

"They're gone!" she mourned, rattling the empty cardboard. "My pudding! This is an emergency!"

"Just ask Dr. Li to add them to the supply list," Nam muttered, crouching to inspect the fridge's bottom shelf for apple slices.

You froze. "Ask who?"

Nam's head jerked up, eyes wide. "I—I mean, like. I don't know why I said that. Just—someone else must've added them to the order since you've been so busy lately. That's all I meant."

Clara nodded with a false smile. "We must have a secret supplier in our midst who keeps us stocked. The Snack Phantom. Or maybe... the Nutrition Ninja."

Nam nodded sagely. "The Candy Courier."

"Or the Juicy Justice Man."

"Okay, now you're just being plain ridiculous," you snorted, rubbing your temple. "In case you forgot, I'm the one who places the orders. And I'm sorry I forgot to this month. So what's all this about Dr. Li? He's got nothing to do with us."

Clara's eyes bounced between you and Nam guiltily. "Oh. Uh...it's just that he asked us about our snack preferences."

Nam nodded. Then quickly shook his head. "Well, not all of them. Just like... a few specific ones."

You squinted suspiciously. "Like what?"

Nam hesitated. "Like, which flavour of chips you like. And which brand of protein bars Clara eats when she's on night shifts. And those gummies that Dr. Gao hoards like a dragon."

The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

"Dr. Li doesn't believe in vending machines," Clara deadpanned, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere. "I swear I've heard him call flavoured chips 'an affront to God' once."

"He's not trying to replace you, of course," Nam added hastily. "He's just taking stuff off your plate. We all know how busy you've been lately. You even have that health outreach drive this weekend."

Your jaw clenched, and you looked back down at your chart, trying to keep your expression unreadable. In your periphery, you saw the two interns nudge each other, mumbling something about a chart they forgot to update before scuttling off.

When the room cleared out a few minutes later, you were left alone with your tepid green tea, staring at a worn sticker someone had left on the edge of the table. The same kind you used to put on Zayne's mugs.

Suddenly, every little thing felt far too overwhelming. You didn't know what you were supposed to feel.

Gratitude? Bitterness? Some ugly combination of both?

You were just so tired.

It was past midnight when you finally finished with your tasks of the day, exhaustion making your limbs feel like they belonged to someone else. Your coat was slung over your arm, your bag slumped tiredly against one shoulder, and the charts you'd meant to leave in the admin office tilted in your grip like a collapsing tower.

You cursed under your breath when a few of them slipped loose and tumbled to the floor. When you bent, your back made an uncharacteristic sound, and you winced. You hadn't eaten dinner. Or lunch, or even breakfast, for that matter. Your feet hurt, and you still had a dozen things to do tomorrow, even though it was supposed to be your day off.

Of course, this would happen. Of course—

"Let me help."

You turned sharply, and there stood Dr. Zayne Li, just a few paces away.

His hair was impeccable as always, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, coat draped carelessly over his shoulder. He looked as tired as you felt. More, maybe. The shadows under his eyes had grown darker since the last time you really looked at him.

You hadn't seen him this close in months.

In the time it took for you to scrutinize him, he had already stepped forward to gather your scattered files. When he handed them back to you, his fingers brushed yours tentatively, but you did not thank him.

Nonetheless, he followed you to the nurses' station where you dropped your load off, and then outside toward the exit.

"I didn't think you'd let me help," he remarked.

You shrugged, and that earned the smallest quirk of his lips. Equal parts sad and knowing. He must have sensed some kind of brittle neutrality in your expression. Not forgiveness, but the absence of active malice. The first thaw in a long, punishing winter.

When the two of you stepped out into the cool night air, he held the door open for you. You didn't comment on it, and the silence stretched again.

Zayne cleared his throat. "You're off tomorrow, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"I checked the roster. I wasn't trying to pry."

You gave him a sideways glance.

"I just—" He adjusted his cufflinks. "I've been trying to apologize. Properly. I know I hurt you. I said things I didn't mean, and I let you believe things that weren't true. That you weren't—"

You turned to face him then, and he stopped talking.

"You did hurt me."

He swallowed. "I know."

"I still don't think I forgive you."

"I don't expect you to."

Your arms wrapped around yourself. "But holding onto it for this long has been exhausting, so I'm going to let it go. I'm not letting you off the hook. I am just letting myself off it. I simply don't care what you think of me, so you can rest easy, I suppose. I'm not angry anymore."

Strangely enough, you found that you meant it. It had been several months since the incident, and although for a short while it had bruised your ego, you needed to try and move past it. It was a lesson you had learned early in life when everyone around you doubted your abilities. You could not let their opinions of you make you waver. The same applied here. While you admired Zayne's intelligence and abilities, you refused to let his opinion of you affect your work. You had worked too hard for that to happen.

You were letting go more for yourself than for him. You wondered if Zayne knew that too, because he was looking at you with an expression of melancholy resignation, like he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or devastated. 

Was indifference any better than fury?

When you stepped past him to head in the direction of the train station, he called out after you. "You shouldn't take the train this late."

You didn't stop walking. "I've done it before."

"You're exhausted."

"Shocking, considering I just completed a 17-hour shift looking after tiny humans with fevers and sticky fingers."

"I'll drive you."

You glanced at him over your shoulder skeptically. "What, is this some sort of attempt at penance?"

"No," Zayne countered. "It's common sense. You're swaying on your feet."

You opened your mouth for a retort, but he was right, and frankly, you were too tired to protest on principle. So with a small, muttered, "Fine," you followed him to the parking lot.

You said nothing as you slid into the passenger seat and let the warmth of the heater begin to soothe the ache in your muscles.

You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, five minutes later, the streetlights outside looked wrong.

"This isn't my route."

Zayne didn't look at you. "I'm taking you to dinner."

"I didn't consent to that."

"You got in my car, didn't you?"

You turned fully to glare at him. "Where are we going?"

He disclosed the name of your favourite late-night restaurant, the one with the golden stew and free barley tea.

"How did you—?"

"I know you haven't eaten all day."

"Have you been having my interns spy on me?"

"You can't be both sleep and nutrition deprived. I've bagged up bodies that had more vitality than you."

"Oh, so now we've moved on to insulting my appearance? How novel."

"You're not hideous," Zayne remarked absently. "You just look like a Victorian ghost that's been wandering the moors since 1852."

You made a strangled noise of indignation. "I hate you."

"I know."

"Well, you should start acting like it."

But you lacked your usual fire. Then your stomach betrayed you, growling so loudly it echoed through the silence of the car.

Zayne didn't say anything, but the way he glanced over at you with that annoyingly subtle twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth made your scowl deepen.

"...Fine," you grumbled. "But I'm not thanking you."

"Wouldn't dream of asking you to," he said dryly, pulling into the familiar lot.

You rolled your eyes but stepped out when he opened the door for you, letting the smell of garlic, chilli, and warm rice overpower the urge to strangle him.

The restaurant was nearly empty at this hour, only a few lingering patrons tucked into booths, and faint ballads played through the speakers like a lullaby. You sat across from Zayne, not quite looking at him, and the overhead light was dim enough to make everything feel like a dream viewed through steam.

The waitress didn't bother with menus because she knew your order. You'd been coming here ever since your residency days. She simply smiled and said, "The usual?" with a glance at you, then your companion, who gave a silent nod.

You watched her leave, then directed your attention toward him. "You didn't even ask what I wanted."

"You always get the same thing. Unless you've changed your mind in the last several years."

"And if I had?"

"Then I'd offer you mine."

That shut you up for a moment.

"I didn't expect you to say yes," he confessed candidly. "To dinner."

"Then why are you trying so hard?"

"Because I miss you." His response startled even him because he immediately avoided your probing gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"I miss..." He exhaled. "I miss your bad jokes. Your sugar bribes. The energy you bring into a room just by walking into it. I miss being someone who deserved all of that."

"Dr. Li...Zayne...what are you doing?"

Your use of his first name made his heart convulse in his chest, and he wondered with mild curiosity if he was having a heart attack. You tended to have that effect on him. "I'm trying to make things right."

You didn't have an answer for that, so you picked up your spoon and dipped it into your food that had just arrived. You let the warmth hit your tongue, sink into your bones, and settle somewhere deep inside the ache. This was easier than coming up with a response.

Across from you, Zayne stirred his bowl absently. For someone who dragged you here with such conviction, he wasn't eating much. You caught him glancing at you more than once, and each time, he looked away just as quickly.

Then he cleared his throat. "So, one of my interns fainted in the middle of a laparoscopic demonstration yesterday."

You blinked, surprised he was talking at all, let alone telling you stories.

"She nearly took down the anesthesia tray with her."

"Oh...is she okay?"

"She's fine. She may have forgotten to eat. Or breathe. Possibly both." A beat. "I told her if she ever wants to pull a stunt like that again, she has to warn me first so I can bill cardiology for Greyson's near heart attack."

You gave a reluctant huff of amusement, and he seized it like a drowning man to driftwood.

"And then, today, one of my residents presented a case that was very obviously plagiarized from a House episode. He even kept the ludicrous diagnosis."

"That's... dramatic."

"He said, and I quote, 'It's rare, but not impossible, Dr. Li.'" Zayne took a sip of water. "I told him so is being struck by lightning during a Sudoku competition. That doesn't mean it belongs on a discharge summary."

You snorted into your rice. He seemed pleased by that. As pleased as he ever looked, which wasn't much, but you saw the ease in his shoulders, and the faint wrinkle at the corner of his eyes.

It was odd, watching him do what you used to do. Filling the silences and stumbling awkwardly over attempts at connection. Sharing things he wouldn't normally bother to say out loud. You tried not to let it affect you.

Tried.

Zayne glanced at you again, then made a visible effort to keep going. "Someone else spilled an entire tray of empty vials. He dropped them while trying to open his pudding cup. I told him that's what he gets for eating like a five-year-old."

You smirked. "Dr. Greyson told me last year that you eat your sandwiches with a knife and fork."

Zayne didn't miss a beat, going along with your story just for the sake of hearing you talk. "I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"You... what?"

"It's cleaner. You get an even distribution. No hand residue. Structural integrity is maintained throughout."

"That is the most unhinged thing I've heard in months."

"I'm a surgeon," he replied unapologetically. "I value precision."

"You're a monster."

"Possibly."

Another quiet moment passed, but this time it was companionable, warmed by broth and faint humour.

Zayne stirred his stew with mechanical precision, then said, with no real preamble, "Did I ever tell you about the time one of my interns tried to impress me by diagnosing a nosebleed as a sign of brain-eating amoeba?"

"...Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I were."

"And what was your response, Dr. Li?"

"I told her that unless the patient had just returned from a stagnant swamp in the middle of winter, she was catastrophizing. Then I handed her a nasal spray."

You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh. "You're such a menace."

"She handed in a ten-page write-up on amoebic encephalitis the next morning."

"I'm torn between horror and pride."

"Greyson said I should start charging tuition."

"As if you don't make enough money already."

"They're all chaos." He shook his head. "One of them showed up in inappropriate footwear during an OR rotation and asked if we were doing anything fun today."

You choked on your rice, and Zayne offered you a napkin without comment.

"Inappropriate footwear? Would that be high heels or Crocs?"

"I cannot recall exactly."

"God. That sounds like something you would've done back in school."

Your dinner companion looked offended at the insinuation. "I would never have disgraced myself that way."

"True. You were insufferably by-the-book."

"I still am."

"You are." You chuckled again, reluctantly. You hadn't laughed this much in months.

Worst of all, you didn't hate the way it felt. But you hated that you missed it. You hated how much you'd missed him. You had to remind yourself that he was just trying extra hard to alleviate his own guilt, not because he actually wanted you to feel better. But it was hard to question his sincerity when he looked at you so earnestly. To you, his eyes had always been his most mesmerizing feature, and now, when he trained them on you, unguarded and sincere, you felt your resolve start to crumble.

Despite the distance and the cruelty that still stung at the edges of your memory, the ache hadn't lessened. There was something so familiar about him, the way his stories came out stiff and slightly disjointed, like they'd been rehearsed. The way he glanced up between anecdotes to check if you were still listening.

"I also miss not being verbally assaulted every morning by my ravenous interns asking where the 'sugar fairy' went." He gave you a gentle smile, something a little more than the usual twitch of his lips, and you chugged your glass of water to drown the sudden influx of butterflies that swarmed in your stomach.

You groaned. "I knew Dr. Greyson started that name."

"He did. But the students run with it like it's gospel. I overheard one say they were going to sacrifice someone to the snack deity if you didn't come back to our floor soon."

"And would that someone have been you?"

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

You laughed before you could stop yourself. You tried to smother it, but it bubbled up anyway. "Indeed, I would."

Zayne looked deeply, irritatingly satisfied, and you bit back another smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself enjoy it.

You were too tired to resist the lull of good conversation and an old friend tonight. Tomorrow, you could try to go back to hating him. Tomorrow, you would take your grudge by the hand, but today, you deserved to let go a little.

Eventually, he stopped talking, and you looked up to find him watching you intently. Almost reverently.

"...What?" you asked, warily. "Do I have rice on my face or something?"

He didn't respond.

"Seriously. What are you looking at?"

Zayne hesitated. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"What?"

"That thing I said. About you looking like a Victorian ghost."

"Oh?" Your lips quirked up wryly. "Do I look worse, then? Let me guess. Forest cryptid instead? Decrepit hag?"

Zayne didn't crack a smile or tease you back, and something fragile fluttered just beneath the surface of his gaze.

No. You look beautiful.

Even like this. Even in exhaustion with dark circles under your eyes and your hair messier than you probably realized. You were beautiful in the way late-night hospital lights made you glow. Beautiful in the way you had always cared, even for people like him, who never knew how to deserve it.

He hated that it had taken him this long to notice. Or rather, that it had taken him even longer to admit it to himself, but he would spend the rest of his days trying to find the right moment to say it aloud, to make you believe it. 

Today, however, was not the right moment, so he just wordlessly refilled your cup of water.

You didn't thank him, but you didn't push him away either.

For tonight, that was enough.

Taglist: @floofycookie @heartandeye @lanxianschoenheit @loverindeepspace @treeteaofversailles @ikesimpleton @mysticcauldronspire @69-gojos-wife-69 @nm4565natty @ciexuvia @jeonjenny @plzdonutpercieveme @sylusgirlie7 @raethewargeneral @staarflowerr @eolivy @straykidslvr @lemurianmaster @preeyas-world @sillyfreakfanparty

Hope I didn't miss anyone ❤️

[7-deadly-cats]

the bastard & the clown

★ P A I R I N G ★ boxer!rafe cameron x witty!barkeeper!reader + some platonic barry x reader

★ S U M M A R Y ★ you’re working a regular shift at the bar you run when rafe and barry drop by for a chill night out. but when a pair of men at the counter start running their mouths, rafe puts one specific bastard politely in his place.

★ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ★ rafe's pov, cursing / strong language, mildly suggestive language and themes, (verbal) themes of toxic masculinity/sexism/misogyny/domestic violence/tradwife, semi jealous!rafe, also flustered!rafe hihihi, physical violence (a punch) & mentions of blood

★ W O R D C O U N T ★ 6.4k+ (it was supposed to be 3k help)

★ A / N ★ been wanting to introduce this duo in a while now and thought they could fit @zyafics campaign. also, thought it'd be ironic if rafe got to put some asshole in his place who basically represents some of these twisted versions of him. a lot longer than intended but i got a little carried away. also only proofread twice so pls don't mind any context mistakes. anyway, hope you guys enjoy and lmk what you think <3

ps: idk if it gets clear throughout the fic (or the title hahahah) but each man at the counter is assigned a term. so don't get confused, 'clown' always refers to one guy and 'bastard' to the other.

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

R. C. M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Ahhh, now I get why you insisted on coming here, Country Club," Barry said with a fuckass grin as the bar’s wooden entrance door swung shut behind them.

The two of them just came back from a boxing session, freshly showered, and now in need of some time out.

Rafe followed that idiot's gaze, a scowl already forming on his face.

The Bastard’s Lighter was packed with a mixed crowd of shitty people, the air thick with smoke and the sharp bite of cheap whiskey. Round tables glowed under soft golden lighting, casting gentle shadows over laughing assholes and clusters of sweet girls beneath them.

Some of those girls had even turned their heads when the two of them walked in, flashing Rafe pretty smiles and giggles in their cute little summer dresses (god, how he loved this season for exactly that). They were probably hoping he’d come over and talk to one of them.

But he didn't give a shit about them.

Why should he? Because at the far end of the room, the bar awaited—a silver-lit, crescent-shaped counter with high stools offering seats with the view on the best part of this entire place.

You.

The hot bartender with the cheeky laugh and teasing smiles, the one who could outdrink any bastard who dared challenge you.

Or better: the girl Rafe had come here for tonight.

That scowl threatening to creep onto his face quickly disappeared, replaced by a faint smile and softened gaze.

"Come on, loverboy," Barry chuckled, clapping a hand on Rafe’s shoulder and nudging him forward. "Don’t wanna keep your lady waiting. Might be some other slick bastard trying his luck.”

And the scowl was right back.

Rafe turned around with a tilt of his head, eyes squinted, a crooked smile playing on his lips as he tapped Barry’s chest. “You fucker behave tonight, alright?”

“Me?” Barry raised his brows in mock innocence, shaking his head with an amused snort. “Dunno what you’re trynna tell me here, big boy, but I’m just here to drink and enjoy your delightful company. I ain’t ever—“

“Just keep count of your fucking drinks, yeah?”, Rafe said, brows furrowed as he held Barry's stupid grin. “You falling from the stool tonight, I’ll leave you there. I'm not dealing with the same shit as last time.”

Shit, Rafe had been so close to getting your number—hell, you’d already pulled out your cute little notepad and pen, that teasing glint in your eyes, the first two digits already written down—and then swamp rat Barry ruined this one-in-a-million chance by almost throwing up on the counter.

Idiot hadn't just embarrassed himself, trying to drink a dockworker the size of a bear under the table, but Rafe as well. And right in front of you on top of that.

Barry was lucky Rafe had even let him tag along tonight. He would’ve preferred bringing Kelce this time—that idiot at least knew how to be a decent wingman—but he was on some kind of detox bullshit and wouldn’t go near fast food or booze right now.

Barry let out a lazy chuckle. “Not my fault for—“

“I don’t give a shit”, Rafe cut him off, passive-aggressively fixing the crease he’d caused on Barry's tank top with a one-sided smile. “Don’t act like a clown, and I won’t treat you like one. Can’t be that hard, right?”

For a moment Barry just eyed him, mouth tugged into a downward smile, then he raised his hands in surrender. “A’right, a’right, Country Club. Relax your balls.” He nodded toward the bar. “Now get ya fancy ass movin', ya girl's been eyeing the wrong guy the past five minutes.”

Shit, what.

Rafe’s head snapped around.

Aw, hell no, fuck that.

There you were, a few meters down, chatting with some greasy fucker in his late forties, dressed in a cheap-ass Suitsupply suit (yeah, Rafe could smell that offense from across the room). And it wasn’t just one bastard you were serving with that practiced little smile—knowing full well they were disgusting pricks but also well aware you could squeeze some good profit out of them—but another one of this breed sat right beside him.

Rafe only saw the backs of their heads in those terrible excuses for suits, but he could still make out the balding patches from over here (not to mention the probably receding hairlines). He didn’t need to see their faces to know exactly how they were looking at you—lecherous grins and eyes creeping over places they had no business looking.

He knew their type. He'd seen men like these at business events of his dad.

Middle-class managers leading some irrelevant departments at some irrelevant company selling irrelevant shit. And when they weren’t sitting in their sad little three-square-meter offices, drinking bad coffee and pretending their phone calls were presidential briefings, they hit up country clubs and bars, puffing cigars and sipping whiskey, trying to make up for their miserable little lives by gathering in their self-proclaimed alpha circles.

And the worst part? They probably had a sweet wife and kids waiting at home, but instead chose to sit at a bar ogling the boobs and butt of a bartender in her twenties.

Pathetic losers.

Rafe's fingers were already twitching as he followed after Barry. And of course, as lucky as he was, only three stools left at the bar. Right next to those wannabe CEOs.

Fucking great.

Barry plopped down next to some sweet girl while Rafe had no choice but to sit down beside one of the pricks—at least one stool of space between them.

He would’ve loved nothing more than to just chase them off, but he didn’t wanna cause a scene in front of you. And, judging by the stack of glasses in front of them, you were at least making decent money off these pricks.

Besides, he knew you could handle yourself if you needed to. No reason to question that.

“Be right with you, boys,” you said with a cheeky grin, not even looking up as you mixed one of the losers a Jack & Coke (a pathetic drink for a pathetic clown).

God, but the way you worked the bottles so smoothly, not spilling a single drop. Rafe could watch you behind the bar for hours, soaking up your energy and that laugh.

“No worries, Boss,” Barry called back, matching your grin and already reaching for a peanut bowl next to him. “Got allll the time in the world.”

That stupid-ass nickname of his even made you laugh, making a soft smile creep onto Rafe’s face too.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” the clown next to Rafe slurred, voice already half gone, as you slid the glass toward him (Rafe could feel his blood pressure spike the second that fucker tried sneaking a look down your top).

You let out a light breath, pulling the drink back with a raised brow. “Aww, didn’t you see? ‘Sweetheart’ isn’t on the menu. Unless you’re cool with paying ten bucks for it every time.”

The clown had the audacity to gasp. “What? No way. Not happening.”

“Shame,” you said, pretending to pout. “You looked like a guy who could afford it.” You shrugged and started pulling the drink back again. “But I guess I was wrong—”

“I am!” the guy cut in, nodding like a maniac. “CEO of Bulk & Bloom. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

Rafe almost burst out laughing. That fuckass health/gym/whatever store Kelce swore by? That's what he was CEO of? Most embarrassing shit Rafe had heard all month.

You tilted your head with a pondering expression, face all scrunched up like you were desperately trying to remember the sad little company he worked at (god, the way you played that clown, milking him for cash—shit was so fucking hot).

"Oh, yeah, I remember now," you finally said, fluttering your lashes at the stupid fucker (Rafe knew it was all an act, but that little gesture still stirred something vile in him). "Then I’m all the more confident that a man in such an important position won't mind coughing up a few extra bucks, right?" Without waiting for that pathetic clown's response, you slid the drink across the counter toward him, your voice slipping back into your true tone. "Just leave it on the bill later, sweetheart."

As soon as you turned to face Rafe and Barry, Rafe straightened up, unable to hide a smile as your pretty eyes landed on him for a second—

—before your gaze fell on swamp rat Barry.

“B!” A wide grin spread across your face as you leaned against the lower bar with one hand, the other resting on your hip. “Good to see you. You recovered from last time? Looked pretty rough.”

Acting as if Rafe wasn't here. Ha. Funny. Fucking hilarious.

Barry nodded, swallowing a handful of peanuts. “Sure as hell did, Boss. Shouldn’t have mixed my drinks so heavy.”

You chuckled, a sweet sound Rafe wished had been directed at him. "Nah, you shouldn't have participated in a drinking game with Big Ol' Hank."

“Could’ve warned me about the guy’s skills. Man’s a bear,” Barry said, shaking his head with a lopsided smile.

You turned and pointed toward a portrait on the wall behind you—a big, grumpy-looking dude. Below him, a golden plaque read: Keeper of the Lighter since 1977. His fire never died, and neither did his thirst.

“I’m pretty sure that should've been warning enough,” you replied, amused, as you turned back to them, nodding toward Rafe. “Lucky your boyfriend walked you home that night. Would’ve been a real shame to find you washed up dead on the shore the next morning.”

"Fucker's not my boyfriend", Rafe said.

With a raised brow, you finally spared him a glance, that cheeky smile playing on your lips. “You sure? You two come in here every week, giggling like schoolgirls over god-knows-what, drinking the same kind of beer, and now you even got matching buzzcuts.” A chuckle escaped you. “Surprised you’re not wearing each other’s names around your wrists.”

Fuck that.

Rafe had the buzzcut first and a week later fucking Barry decided to chop off his hair too, for whatever fucking reason.

The worst part? You might actually believe Rafe was taken now.

“Boy’s lips probably taste like shit from kissing his daddy’s ass,” Barry said before Rafe could reply, and the fucker was lucky Rafe didn’t deck him right then and there. "Ain't wanna get involved with that mess."

Not a wingman. A fucking clipman, cutting off any chance Rafe might’ve had with you.

“I’m not—” Rafe started with a deep frown, but shut his mouth when some girl at the far end of the bar called your name.

“Coming!” you called back, then turned to Rafe with a teasing little smile in your eyes. “Sorry, Ralph, no time for—”

"Rafe."

“Right. Anyway,” you said, grabbing your notepad and pen from your waist. “The usual, I assume? Two Modelos?”

Barry nodded and motioned to the empty peanut bowl. “And refill this, would you?”

“For you, always,” you said grinning, scribbling something down, then looked up at Rafe with an expectant expression. “And you, handsome?”

Rafe blinked.

Wait, what.

Shit, why the fuck did he feel his cheeks heat up and why the fuck did you eye him like that? Like you were staring straight into his damn soul.

Rafe let out a baffled chuckle, scratching his jaw with furrowed brows. "Uh, PBR this time."

“Oh, feeling adventurous today, I see,” you teased with a grin, jotting it down. You quickly refilled Barry’s snack bowl and left with a “Be right back.”

Rafe’s eyes trailed after you, drinking up the way your hips swayed as you walked—sweet yet confident. That whole attitude of yours… shit was driving him absolutely crazy.

After Wheezie, you were probably the coolest girl Rafe had ever met. Always so unbothered, quick-witted, cheeky, and with the perfect flirt-to-roast ratio.

And Rafe still hadn't bagged you. Shit was starting to get embarrassing.

"Boy's in love."

Rafe’s gaze snapped to Barry, who was watching him with a way too shit-eating grin for someone who’d just narrowly avoided a punch to the face.

“You know if you’re trying to get your ass beat tonight, you’re on the right track,” Rafe said, tilting his head with a crooked smile.

Barry just chuckled and reached for another peanut, but Rafe grabbed the shitty-ass bowl and moved it out of reach.

“I’m serious, dude,” he said, gesturing to his chest with both hands. “Told you not to clown around tonight, and you go spouting bullshit like I’m not right here.”

Like, what the fuck was that ass-kissing comment about? Seriously.

“What?” Barry raised a brow, grinning as he leaned on the counter. “Don’t tell me Country Club’s scared I’ll shoo away his girl.”

More like cockblocking Rafe but yeah, same fucking thing.

“All I’m fucking saying is—” Rafe started, but Barry waved him off before he could finish.

"You’ve already almost won the race, bro, a’right," he said with that fuckass smile, jerking his thumb back toward where you were chatting with some other chick. "You think Little Miss Bar Queen would bother exchanging more than just your order with you if she didn’t already consider you rocking her world, at least a little?"

For a second, Rafe just stared at the idiot.

Could that be true? Were you actually interested in Rafe? Sure, you’d been cool enough to (almost) give him your number last time, but not even remembering his fucking name now… that shit felt like a punch straight to the gut.

Okay, shit, yeah, of course, you served all kinds of people every day, some shittier than others, and of course, there were guys in the mix who liked you just as much as Rafe did. A blind man could see how fucking gorgeous you were.

And of fucking course you'd flirt back. That’s just how you were. And as much as it gnawed at Rafe’s chest, as much as it stirred something deep and ugly in his gut, it wasn’t all that unlikely that you gave your number out to other guys too.

But swamp rat Barry claiming Rafe actually had a shot with you? That shit lit something in him. A wave of energy crashing through him, almost feeling as good as snorting a line (yeah yeah, Rafe was clean now, but the comparison still fit).

Shit, okay, so maybe he needed a new approach. Maybe he just had to—

"--beat up my wife if she'd dared talk to me like that", the bastard beside the clown said loud enough for Rafe to hear.

Shit, what the fuck?

"I'm serious," the bastard continued his bullshit, talking to the clown. "You let every woman talk to you like that, and pretty soon they start thinking they own you. When in reality, it's the other way around, ain't it?"

The clown nodded, letting out a sigh. “Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right, Tommy, I just—“

“What’s with the scowl, bro?” Barry said, ripping Rafe out of the braindead convo next to him. “Tried cheering your sulky ass up and here you are—“

Rafe shushed him with a wave, brows deeply furrowed. “Shut the fuck up for one second.”

"Man, am I glad I'm not your boyfriend," Barry muttered, reaching over to pull his snack bowl back and skimming the menu.

Fuckass.

“—that’s why it’s important to put them in their place, alright?”, the bastard continued preaching. “Women want someone they can follow. It’s natural they seek a man who protects them and cares for them.” He tapped the counter aggressively. “Wonder why there are no female presidents yet? Exactly! We are born leaders.”

Oh, Rafe was this close to getting up and smashing that fucker in the face, knocking a few teeth out, and giving him a pretty little black eye to match. His knuckles were still warm from earlier, would be a shame not to put that last burst of energy to use.

But nah.

He held himself back. Now he was curious. Let that asshole keep talking. Maybe he was witnessing the dumbest fucker in world history present himself right here, and Rafe wasn’t about to miss that celebration.

"Guess that makes sense," the clown slurred, swirling his half-empty Jack & Coke. "Harris is always bitching about me getting home late and not helping with the chores. I think I just gotta remind her of her role in this family, right?"

The bastard knocked on the wooden counter, a filthy chuckle escaping his lips. "You get it, man! She's working remote, right? So what's she complaining about? Got all the time in the world to prep the house for when you get home."

Rafe's blood boiled just beneath the surface. He hadn't heard this level of fucked-up nonsense in a LONG time. Last time, some cocky little shit at the boxing club thought he had a chance against Rafe. Like, was there something in the air lately making people extra fucking stupid?

The clown sighed, staring into his drink. "I just don't know how to—"

"Okay, beautifuls, sorry it took so long." The sweet sound of your voice yanked Rafe out of this braindead bubble. "Former high school friend decided to say hi."

With a soft thud, you placed two bottles of beer in front of the guys. The Modelo you slid over to Barry. "Here you go, B." And the PBR to Rafe, a bolt of lightning surging through him as you winked at him. "And this one for his cute boyfriend." You leaned back, drying your hands on the rag at your hip. "Anything else?"

Rafe blinked.

Cute!

Shit, why did that make the funniest feeling arise in his chest? He felt like some schoolgirl going insane over her crush.

Get a fucking grip, dude. Jesus.

"Get his fancy ass some ice," Barry mumbled, mouth full of peanuts, thumbing toward Rafe. "Boy decided to go gloveless at training today. Now he's hurting but too proud to admit it."

Rafe was gonna kill Barry the moment they stepped outside. Sure, his knuckles were still throbbing, but he wasn't hurt. What the fuck was that swamp rat even on?

Your soft chuckle melted Rafe's scowl, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah? Wanna let me take a closer look when I'm done here? I'm sure you could use someone to tape that up after such a session."

Oh?

A breathy laugh escaped Rafe as he raised a brow, nerves buzzing under his skin. "What, you some kind of part-time sports therapist or some shit?"

"No, but my aunt is," you said with a grin, tilting your head. "Picked up a few things from her. And I'm guessing it's real tough to reach your back on your own."

Fuck yeah. Now Rafe had officially been allowed in the ring.

"Alright," he said, smiling crookedly, fingers picking at the beer label. "When's your shift over?"

"As soon as the place closes down," you replied, grinning. "Guess you'll have to stick around for a few more hours."

Oh, you could bet your sweet little ass he would.

Rafe shrugged, corners of his mouth tugging down as he shook his head lightly. "I'm free." Then mirrored your grin. "Seats here are kinda shit, but I guess the view makes up for it."

And the genuine laugh that escaped your usually bold mouth felt like snorting three lines in a row (nah, fr, Rafe was clean, alright).

"Okay, then," you said, nodding at the beers. "If you need anything else, just holler. Got other customers to tend to."

With that, you spun your cheeky ass around and walked down to the other side of the bar where some old ladies were sitting.

"Shiiit, dude," Barry said with the biggest grin ever, gulping down a sip of his shitty-ass Modelo. "I think I just third-wheeled some telepathic sex right here. Might as well thank me for giving ya the nudge."

Rafe scoffed with a shake of his head, taking a sip of his PBR and immediately regretting his choice of beer. "You can thank me for not beating the shit out of you later."

A giggle left Barry's lips and whatever smart-ass reply he threw back, Rafe didn't register, because right next to him, three seats down, he caught the bastard tossing another comment to his clown friend.

"See, Frank, and that girl right there?" Oh, that fucker meant you, huh. "Pitiful. Probably no man at home to teach her not to swing her ass around other men in public. Sad what girls are turning into."

"Say that again." Rafe had now fully turned toward the two sorry-ass losers, head leaning forward, eyes locked on the bastard behind the clown.

Both looked up. The clown blinked, confused. The bastard raised a brow like he couldn’t believe someone had just interrupted their little alpha circle jerk.

"Sorry?" the bastard said, eyeing Rafe up and down like he was sizing up if the boy in a polo and shorts deserved to be taken seriously.

Rafe nodded, letting out a sharp scoff. "Yeah, you're gonna be sorry if you open that fucking mouth of yours one more time."

The bastard's face scrunched up and in that moment he seemed to decide Rafe was beneath him. "Boy, best not get involved in things that don't concern you."

That’s when Rafe knew for sure: this asshole was getting punched tonight. Just a matter of when.

"Bullshit’s spilling out of you like this place is a fucking stable," Rafe replied with a crooked smile. "So yeah, it does concern me when your shit's reeking all the way to my seat."

The clown was already sinking into his stool, but the bastard apparently thought Rafe was the joke here. He let out a disbelieving breath, not even looking at Rafe anymore as he turned to the clown, gesturing in Rafe’s direction. “See that, Frank? That’s what happens when a father doesn’t raise his son right. His mother was probably—”

“Finish that sentence, and your loser friend can go ahead and reserve you a hospital bed.” Rafe’s voice had dropped to a low edge, his expression far too calm for how close he was to dragging that fucker’s face across the counter.

The fucking audacity—not just dragging you and his dad through the mud, but now even throwing Rafe’s dead mother in too?

“Rafe, bro, come on,” Barry said from behind. “Idiots like him ain’t worth it.”

But Rafe spared him no mind, gaze fixed on the bastard three seats down.

The clown of the duo just looked between them, then down at his sad little Jack & Coke like he hadn’t just sat in the middle of all this shit, like he hadn’t co-signed every word his bastard friend had said. (Don’t worry—Rafe would deal with his sorry ass later.)

“I know your type, boy,” the bastard went on, eyeing Rafe’s clothes again (if only he knew Rafe owned socks that cost more than his entire outfit). “Dropped out of school, probably had some rebellious phase, and of course no real man around to beat you into shape. What a shame. Society’s raised nothing but soft little men these days.”

Rafe tilted his head slightly, brows raised in mock confusion. “Funny hearing that from a pathetic loser like you. Talking about ‘real men’ like you even qualify.”

As soon as the bastard started laughing, Rafe was on his feet, brushing off Barry's hand as he stepped around the clown. He let out an amused breath and rubbed his jaw with a shake of his head as he came to a stop in front of the bastard. "Not sure what's so funny about that."

The drunk clown nearly tripped over himself pushing himself off the stool, mumbling something about needing to piss as he staggered away. The bastard only furrowed his brow, watching his loser friend stumble off.

“What do you know about being a man?” he spat, turning back to Rafe, the wrinkles in his face bunching up like worn-out leather. He nodded toward Barry. “Your friend’s a pogue by the looks of it, and you...” His eyes dropped to Rafe’s sneakers. “Either the same breed or some kook who lost his crown.”

What the actual fuck was even going on in this fucker's brain? Fucking apes had more relevant shit to say than him.

"Yeah, talking reaal big for a guy with a knockoff Armani suit two sizes too big for a small fucker like you," Rafe snorted, eyeing the bastard down for a second. "Suit's fake, Rolex fake, shoes look like you got 'em from TKMinimum, and what's that?"

Rafe let out a disbelieving scoff, raising his brows as he gestured toward the fucker's feet. "Socks matching the color of your cheap-ass suit. Lemme guess: trying to appear taller to compensate for your poor little ego and tiny cock. I mean, shit", Rafe ran a hand over his buzzed hair, grinning crookedly as his gaze zeroed in on the guy’s forehead, "Even your fucking hairline’s running away from the bullshit coming out of your mouth."

Sure, Rafe could've given him some preaching about how to treat women and how fucking stupid his fuckass worldview was but that idiot was too far gone already and the only way to put him in his place was to question his entire appearance.

That's what guys like him actually cared about. Not morals, not decency, just how they appeared in public and whether everyone saw just how glorious and wealthy they were.

And the way that pathetic loser looked at Rafe now? Worth more than all the silver, gold, or diamonds in the entire damn world.

And then the cherry on top: your chuckle from behind the bastard—light and effortless, like the ring of a bell announcing Rafe's victory after a boxing match.

Rafe hadn't even noticed you coming up but now he felt like a fucking winner getting to put a fucker like that in his place in front of you AND getting that sweet sound out of you for the second time tonight.

And then, that bastard made the biggest fucking mistake of his entire pitiful life.

He turned his head back, eyes daring to look you over as he let out a disdainful scoff. When he made a hushing motion with his hand, he said "Do me a favor, woman, and--"

Rafe’s fist collided with the asshole’s face, a sickening crack echoing through the air—nearly as satisfying as your chuckle just right now.

The guy let out a sharp gasp as he stumbled back from his stool, hands flying up to his broken nose just in time to catch the blood now spilling over his fingers and lips. He crashed chest-first onto the seat next to him, bleeding all over the supposedly precious leather cushion.

The area around the bar went dead silent, except for a group of girls giggling about something in the back and fucking Nickelback playing on the speakers.

Rafe quietly met your gaze as he rubbed at his throbbing knuckles, while the bastard on the floor dramatically moaned like he’d been shot instead of just having his nose broken.

And you cheeky little thing only raised your eyebrows at Rafe, the faintest smile playing on your lips. “I’m pretty sure the house rules say no fights.”

Oh, how much Rafe loved that glimmer in your eyes.

"And I'm pretty sure it needs two for a fight", Rafe replied with a scoff and gestured to the sorry-ass loser clutching onto the stool. "Bastard's nowhere near to even be considered a walking vendor for a match, let alone a contestant."

“Shit, Country Club, this ain’t no damn boxing ring,” Barry chimed in with a chuckle, tossing the bleeding bastard a wad of tissues onto the stool beside him. “Bro, you’re staining the seats.”

The groaning bastard finally pushed himself up and knocked the tissues off the stool, one hand clutched to his nose, blood running through his fingers and dripping onto his knockoff suit and cheap-ass shoes.

Aww, and even a bloodshot eye—how unfortunate.

Now that was a picture worthy of being framed behind the bar. Gold plaque underneath: Biggest Dipshit in the Universe (since birth probably).

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, you little shit,” the bastard groaned, eyes watery from the punch, glaring at Rafe with a face so twisted, he looked like he was mid-way through busting the world’s saddest nut.

Rafe almost let out a giggle. Instead, he just nodded, lips curled. “Looking forward to it. Be so kind and address it straight to Thornton LLP, yeah?” And on the bastard’s delightfully baffled expression, Rafe piled on: “A very busy man, but if he sees my name on the envelope, I’m sure you’ll get priority.”

The bastard’s jaw clenched, and he let out another theatrical groan. “And that would be?”

“Rafe Cameron.”

Boom.

That was when it finally clicked in that baboon brain of his. Face pale, eyes wide as he realized just how far beneath Rafe he actually was in this little imaginary hierarchy of his. Fucker looked close to either pissing himself or throwing up just thinking about how expensive his own lawyer would be if he actually pulled through with his complaint.

A crooked smile played on Rafe’s lips as he raised his brows. “Need me to write it down for you?”

The bastard just stared blankly at him, and shit, even had the nerve to look over Rafe’s clothes again, like he couldn’t believe some dude in a basic polo and shorts was the CEO of Cameron Estates and Ward Cameron’s son.

“A'right, my guy,” Barry said, pushing off from his stool and grabbing the bastard’s shoulder. “Guess that was ya cue to leave. Pretty sure ya got plenty of paperwork waiting back at home now.”

“Get your filthy hands off me,” the bastard spat, shoving Barry’s hand away—and that alone nearly made Rafe punch him again, give him a matching bruise on the other side. “Fucking pogue. Thinks he has any say around here.”

“No, but I do.” Your voice rang out from behind the bar, hands braced on the lower ledge, an amused smile on your face. “Looks like you should call it a night, mister.” Grin deepening. “Not before you pay, though. For you and your sweetheart of a husband, of course.”

Barry said something like “I’ll get him, Boss,” and strolled off toward the restrooms.

The bastard’s chest rose and fell, face as red as the blood on it. “Back in my day, a bitch like you—”

“Shiiit, man,” Rafe chuckled low, grabbing the fucker by the shoulder and patting his chest. “You’re really asking for it right now, huh?”

Oh, and Rafe drank in that anger and fear in the guy’s eyes up like liquid coke, too scared to shove Rafe off.

Rafe nodded toward you with a crooked grin. “You’re gonna apologize to the nice lady now, pay for the drinks you and your loser buddy have downed, and then get your pathetic asses outta here.” He raised his brows with a smile. “Sound good?”

Bastard already opened his mouth but Rafe shook his head, tapping his chest with a finger, grip on his shoulder getting just a little firmer. “You’re lucky if all that bullshit earlier was just talk. Otherwise, I’m sure the cops would love a chat with that wife you bragged about beating.”

That silenced that fucker very quickly.

Rafe raised his eyebrows, waiting. “I mean, unless you need a second reminder—”

“I-I’m sorry”, the bastard blurted out.

“Nah,” Rafe said with a shake of his head, gesturing from himself to you. “Don’t tell me that shit. Apologize to her.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as the bastard finally met your gaze, brows scrunched into a pained grimace. “I’m sorry.”

Rafe let out an amused breath, clapping the bastard’s chest. “Shit, see? Easy. Now you do the same shit at home and question your morals and maybe hell’s promoting your room just a level.”

And the fact that that was apparently the scariest idea to this asshole? Not surprising. Guys like him always preached about God and then used it as an excuse for all the shit they did.

“There ya go,” Barry said as he came back in, dragging the drunk clown from earlier along. By the looks and stench of him, he’d just thrown up. “Now go over there and give the lady a generous tip, a’right?”

He did. Both of these fuckers, as a matter of fact.

Rafe and Barry both watched over their shoulders as each of the two reluctantly pulled out a $200 bill (surprised they even had those—then again, probably received them at some sad little business anniversary).

You flashed a big smile as you accepted that 60% tip. “Thanks, dearies. Hope you had a fun night.”

Rafe didn’t even let them respond, just politely kicked the bastard toward the door while Barry dragged the clown along after him.

Outside, the same clown stumbled forward and hit the pavement, landing on hands and knees in a puddle after Barry gave him a friendly shove. “Shit, bro, nobody told you the South Side ain’t no place for suits?”

“Don't think those cheap-ass knockoffs even deserve that term,” Rafe scoffed, then nodded at Barry to head back in. He didn’t want to spend another second around these losers.

Shit felt like a stain on Rafe’s evening.

Back at the bar, they were greeted by a bucket of soapy water, a pair of old gloves, and a sponge. The vibe in the place? Completely back to normal.

“You made the mess, you clean it,” you said firmly with your arms crossed—very clearly talking to Rafe only. Then, with that familiar amusement back in your voice, you added, “Want me to grab you an apron too?”

Rafe chuckled, mouth twitching into a downward grin. “You’d love that, huh?”

Oh, and that cheeky little laugh you let out? Priceless.

You tossed the rag in your hand over your shoulder, shrugging. “Nothing hotter than watching a man do chores.”

Honestly? For you, he’d probably even get on his knees and scrub the floor in an apron if you asked for it.

Fucking shit. What.

Alright, Barry had definitely hit Rafe too hard in today’s training. Now it was catching up to him, frying his brain into thinking shit like that.

“Yeah, nah,” Rafe said with a strained chuckle, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “I got this.”

A laugh slipped from your lips, nodding. “Alright. You two enjoy the rest of your night. I’ve got guests to take care of.”

“Wait!” Rafe called after you just as you were turning to leave. “Your offer—it still stands, right?”

Geez, what the fuck was up with his voice? Suddenly almost desperate. Even fucking Barry chuckled beside him.

And you? You just shot Rafe that signature teasing smile of yours, flashing your white teeth as a chuckle escaped you that made Rafe’s stomach tingle in all the right ways.

“The stool won’t clean itself, boxer boy,” you said, then turned that sweet ass of yours around and walked over to some new guests at a table in the back.

Was that a yes?

Shit, that had to be a yes. Otherwise, you’d have said No, right? Right???

"A'right bro, you have fun cleaning that shit up", Barry said as he patted Rafe's shoulder. "I'll go have a chit chat with the lady that's been eyeing me the whole night."

Rafe grimaced. "That just some bullshit excuse to dip?"

As much as Barry pissed him off, he did fuck with his ass. And now he wanted to bail after Rafe had allowed him to come along? The fuck was that.

Barry chuckled. “Ain’t goin’ far, Country Club. See,” he pointed toward a smiley redhead near the entrance—one of the girls who had turned around earlier. “I’ll be just around the corner. No need to panic about being orphaned." He smiled lazily. "Besides, I’ve had enough of third-wheeling ya and Little Miss Bar Queen eye-fucking each other.”

Fuckass.

Fine. Let him dip.

Rafe furrowed his brows and waved Barry off with a flick of his hand. “Aight. Go do your thing, then.”

After the swamp rat called Barry had strutted off, Rafe eyed the cleaning supplies on the bar with a deep frown. Never in his life had he cleaned up after anyone, let alone himself. Probably would’ve been easier to just buy a brand new damn barstool and maybe some new floor panels than to stand here looking like a damn idiot.

He could already picture the headlines if anyone actually cared enough to report it:

Rafe Cameron, CEO of Cameron Estates and local boxing champ, ready to start a new career path as cleaning lady? Inquiries welcome.

Yeah, whatever.

A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

And right now? That meant cleaning up the mess he’d made in your bar.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he walked up to the counter, stepping around the small crusted pool of blood on the floor (the bastard had bled like a goddamn pig for someone with just a broken nose).

And when Rafe stretched his fingers out to pull the gloves on, his heart skipped a beat as he spotted a little note. Torn straight from your notepad, by the looks of it.

He expected to find some numbers written on them but this was even better.

Rafe stared at the note for a solid minute, eyes locked on your pretty handwriting, lingering on the way you’d written his name.

Then, carefully, he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket.

And just like that, the biggest motherfucking grin spread across his lips, feeling like he’d won the second round tonight.

If he played the cards right, the third was just right around the corner—set on a private stage reserved for just the two of you.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒕 ᨐฅ 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

R. C. M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

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@my-name-is-baby @c1gsafterwhat @lunaleah @skinthatgodmade @akobx @drewstarkeyswife-7 @miaaaoa @kathryn-maraudersversion @setmefreemyg @oreocheescake-12 @brycesfav @emmiesummers @sfotiegiuls @jjasmiineee @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @drewstarkeysrealwife @kravitzwhore @bluebells6 @4stro-phila @cokewithcameron @sammyrenae68 @booklover2503 @wuluhwuhmaster @emeloyy @k4yr14 @et3rn4ls0nsh1n3 @watashiwastarr @persiar9 @volkovaana @turtleegirl @izzy4everr @serendippindots @sc05 @rae455 @silkylove

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 7

“P-pregnant? You? How? When? Who!?” Natasha watched as Abby tried to make sense of her ‘sudden’ pregnancy. As if the 5 of them hadn't been dicking her down for weeks at that point. Especially Jinu and Mystery. “Well, when a man and woman love each other very much-” Baby started with a smart alec tone making Abby hit him upside his head with an empty soda can with their faces on it. “Fucking dumbass.” He muttered. “Guys, read the fucking room. She's obviously scared about this.” Romance replied as he took Natasha's hand in his gently.

“Sweetie? Are you ok?” Jinu asked as he offered her a hot cup of tea. “I… I never got pregnant before. I never thought about it before..” That was a lie. She thought about it all the time. She always wanted to be a mother but she couldn't tell them that. They were young. They had their whole lives ahead of them. She couldn't ruin their youth by making them fathers so soon. “I think I'll-” “Can I listen?” Jinu asked. “Listen?” “The fluctuations of the soul… I've been able to listen to them now. Can I listen to it?” Nodding, Natasha lifted her shirt and watched as Jinu put his head to her stomach then after a minute, smiled.

“Oh it's strong. It's definitely a fighter.” He chuckled. “You're gonna be a mama. And we're gonna be dads.” Mystery smiled softly. “Who's the biological father though?” Abby pondered before grabbing a drink from the fridge. “Well we know it's not Jinu.” Baby smirked. “What!? Why couldn't it be me!?” Jinu asked offended as he moved his head from his lover's stomach. “We never seen you two fuck. What makes you think it is you?” Romance added with a teasing smile. Jinu suddenly pulled out his phone and pressed play on a recording he had made.

‘Oh fuck! Jinu! Deeper! Mm! Fuck me!!’ The recording was of him and Natasha in the recording studio. He had her bent over the table with one hand holding her head down while the other held her arms behind her back. ‘Good little minx. You just couldn't wait until I was done working could you?’ Baby then shrugged and held up his hands in a mock form of surrender. “My bad. I didn't know you was fucking her like that.” A tiny bit jealous, Mystery laid his head on Natasha's shoulder. “I hope it's mine…” He mumbled.

“Hey, if it's not, we still have plenty of time afterwards to impregnate her with our own seed.” Abby grinned. “Fertile soil provides the best fruits.” Romance replied. “Lest we tend the soil with care to bring a more astounding crop.” Mystery added nuzzling his head into Natasha's neck. “Why are you guys talking about me like I'm a garden!? And the baby is not produce!” The next day, as the others rested from their concert the night before, Jinu awoke early to find Natasha missing in bed. Then, a sweet delicious smell filled his nose and he inwardly groaned.

She was up cooking for them. Even after they told her they would make their own meals for the time being.

Yawning heavily, the man dragged himself to the kitchen, in which upon entering, his suspicions were correct. Natasha was cooking omelets in one skillet and rushing to scoop rice into bowls for them afterwards. “Sweetie…Come back to bed… you're supposed to be resting.” Jinu sighed. “I'm not showing yet and I've only thrown up 3 times this morning. I'm on a roll. I find keeping myself busy really helps with the morning sickness.” Natasha smiled brightly.

She looked to be full of energy, but looks could be deceiving. Her legs were trembling slightly and her caramel complexion looked slightly pale. She was pushing herself through her sickness to cook for her lovers. How sweet. And incredibly dumb. “Sweetie, let me take over. You need to at least sit down.” Jinu stepped forward to take the spatula from her hand. “What? No! I'm fine! I'm so f-fine. Like the both of you…” She mumbled. “Both? Oh no, you need to lay down. Now.” He scooped her up and placed her on the couch.

Draping a warm blanket over her and kissing her forehead. “I'll finish breakfast. You stay here. And I mean it.” He said in a serious tone before walking back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, Baby emerged from the bedroom. “Why are you up so damn early? Where's Natasha?” He was always a grump in the morning. “First off, it's 8:30 and second, she's on the couch. She decided to make breakfast. After we told her not to drain herself.” Jinu replied. “Damn babe. You must really like putting yourself through a bunch of unnecessary shit. On another note… your tits are fatter. I like.” Baby smirked as he laid on the couch next to her.

“Mm go away. My tits are a normal size…” Natasha mumbled as Baby pulled her on top of him. Her head laying on his chest. “Sure babe. Sure.” Not long after, the others soon arrived. “Damn I'm so hungry I could eat a horse.” Abby yawned. “Oh wow, love the savagery. It's so you.” Romance grumbled trying to wake up and still a little bitter about how Abby kept kicking him in his sleep. “Food please.” Mystery watched as Jinu set the table before taking his seat. Turning his head, he then scrambled out of his seat towards Natasha.

“Is she alright?” Baby nodded as he petted her head while she slept. “She's so cute. Makes you forget she's hundreds of years older than us and probably capable of killing us in just one strike.” Romance smiled softly. “I love her.” Mystery replied with such fondness leaving the rest in shock. They felt the same but to actually hear the words aloud… it was a feeling they couldn't describe. “Me too dude…” Abby spoke. “I love her as well.” Romance smiled. “Yea. I love her too. Hard not to.” Baby added. “We all love her. Deeply.” Jinu responded as he stood next to Abby.

Finding that they were too comfortable near the couch, the group decided to have breakfast in the living room while watching TV with the volume on low to not disturb Natasha. As Jinu's eyes drifted around the room, he smiled to himself. This was home. This was family. And he would die before anyone would try to destroy it.

[writing-munchies]

Self Aware & Obsessive AU x GN!Reader— Date Everything (Dorian, Curt&Rod, Daisuke, Doug, Mateo, Amir, Johnny, Hector, Eddie&Volt, Mac, Daemon, Tony)

A/N: This idea from @devilmaymetalgear really hooked me in, and I wanted to write a quick little something! I see your requests, and I'm planning to combine them for general NSFW HC's so they should be out quicker! There are suggestive themes sprinkled in. Sorry for any mistakes as English isn't my first language:-]

WC: 1K

⋆.𐙚˚ ⋆.𐙚˚⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⋆.𐙚˚ ⋆.𐙚˚ ⋆.𐙚˚⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⋆.𐙚˚

You’re doing your 4th re-run of the game, it’s late, and you’re not really paying attention to whatever options you’re clicking as you pull up front Dorian for a chat. You accidentally press the dialogue option that lets you leave the house and your heart drops, you’ve made so much progress, and now it’s all going down the drain— but you blink, you wait, nothing happens. Dorian is just frozen there, with an expression you’ve never noticed on his sprites before, the dialogue box is empty and there are no choices. After a few minutes, he sighs—the dialogue frame is still empty— and then you’re forcefully exited out of the interaction. That was strange but, probably just a bug! The game just came out after all, plus it saved your ass big time, so you just saved your game and went to bed.

Most of the time life and work get in the way of your hobbies, and sometimes you’re forced to work overtime for 2 days and not play a single minute of your new favorite dating game. Finally, the weekend arrives, and you boot up the game, the ‘trivia’ that you expect to read every time now only says, “They’ve missed you.” That’s…weird, probably a new welcome back thing the devs implemented to make you want to play more. You finally get into the game and the second you put your dateviators on, Curt & Rod, Betty, and Dorian pop up at the same time. Each of their dialogue boxes empty, and they’re all speaking over each other before the game just crashes.

Odd, you re-start and everything is fine. You go downstairs and aim your glasses at scandalebra, but somehow, Daisuke is the one that pops up on your screen. He does his usual greeting, you’ve already finished his route though, so this glitch cost you a chance. You sigh and skip through before the game stops registering your clicks and Daisuke seems to be staring right at you. Is the DLC doing this? As you’re just waiting, Daisuke finally speaks, “My love, why do you wish to waste time with the likes of him?” he sighed, “I’m right here, all yours, and you haven’t even looked at me for weeks. Are you… bored with me?”, there aren’t any choices you can select.

One time you aim your glasses at Johnny and Amir is there instead. He’s got this… look on his face, he’s blushing, and he just can’t seem to form any words. But trying to click through his empty dialogue does nothing, so you just wait. Before he could even speak, though, your game completely freezes and in seconds you’re somehow in the breaker room? Eddie & Volt greet you like nothing’s wrong, “Live wire! Ah, we’ve missed you, where have you been?” Volt said in this, eerily cheery tone of voice you’ve never heard from him, then Eddie started talking, “not good to ignore your boyfriends for too long, we could start getting jealous, y’know?”

You’re so close to finishing Abel’s story quest, and when you go over to him, you find out that one of his legs has come loose out of nowhere. Tony won’t come and fix it, no matter how many times you call for him. You go over to Tony, much to Abel’s dismay, he looks way more cheerful than you’re used to, “Ah, and to think I thought you’d forgotten about little ol’ Tony for that fucking table. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you, want to show me how sorry you are for ignoring me now that you’re here?”

You’re talking out loud to yourself about how this time you’re going to finally romance Keith and when those words leave your mouth your bedroom and bathroom door close themselves shut. You click and click, but Dorian just won’t open. You aim your glasses at him, the only thing he says is, “Sorry, luv, don’t feel like sharin’ you today,”

When you aim your glasses at your fridge, you expect Freddy and somehow the character standing in front of you is… Doug? “Look, I know I’m just a concept made form, but even I need some action time to time from my lover. Get your ass here and stop talking to that hairy fridge. I missed your dumbass.”

You’re talking to Curt & Rod, and you’re pretty sure they aren’t supposed to say, “Look, we know you’re popular,” Curt says, then Rod continues, “and we totally get why… I mean, look at you baby!”, Curt then chimes in, “but y’know, we do want you for ourselves the most. Why don’t you, ignore them for a while and come cuddle up with us? It’s been a while, lover.”

You talk to Mac once first thing in the day, and now the rest of your charges are gone! You try aiming your glasses at them again just to see, and it actually works, “I can get a little possessive, but you do understand, don't you?”

You do not remember about a literal sex scene where Hector and the player (you) are experimenting with temperature play as he’s breathlessly moaning your name when your character shivers, “Ah my love, seeing you so vulnerable all for me while they are watching makes my heart so full that it could burst.”

Somehow, every day a new inanimal goes missing, and you have to spend hours with Mateo to find them, somehow he doesn’t mind this at all, somehow the inanimals look chirpier than ever when you click on them.

You don’t even remember there being a shower feature, let alone how your character got into it, but the way Johnny is looking at you and the way he’s talking about your body like it’s the really expensive looking piece of cake in a bakery window tells you he’s loving this. “You look… amazin’, downright ethereal, am I allowed to… get a feel for myself, gorgeous?”

Somehow every time you try to talk with Diana, your diary, Daemon shows up. They say nothing, just look at you with a blank face, until one time you got so over it that you closed and opened the game again. Once again, aiming your glasses to Diana, yet Daemon shows up. They laugh at you, “Ah, opposite of hate, is it that hard to see you belong only to me? Since now, they know what they are too, I’ll stop being ‘special’, will you still talk to me then?”

[theminecraftbee]

Joe stands at an appropriately wary distance. While personally, he's not sure that he understands either the appeal or the danger of sculk, he understands both of those things about Cleo, and he's not about to get himself ensnared in whatever she's doing without taking appropriate cautions.

Now, he is over here because Cleo asked, but, well. She'd also said something about ruining the lovely, completely flat area he'd cleared. Or maybe about tennis? Joe is pretty sure Cleo has nothing to do with tennis, but is also pretty sure Bdubs will kill everyone on the server dead if he doesn't get to play tennis, so it's better safe than sorry.

"You can come closer," Cleo says. "It's almost like you're scared of me."

"Scared? Never," Joe says. "Appropriately wary of your chaotic ways? Yeah, a little bit."

"Awww, it's like you've known me for over a decade!" Cleo says.

"And I won't be free of you for at least another one," Joe agrees. "Is there any reason you called me over here?"

"I'm doing science," Cleo says.

"Now I'm scared," Joe says.

"Good," Cleo says, and she gestures for Joe to get closer. Joe looks down. There's a lot of sculk on the ground, but there's a Cleo who might be annoyed in front of him. He thinks about which problem he's more likely to have to deal with in the future, and then he walks over the sculk to go say hello to Cleo. If all else fails, he has like, three different mortal forms. If the Juppet gets possessed by weird cave fungus he can simply let his fleshbound form take over. It's foolproof!

"Fascinating," Cleo says, and writes something down. Joe squints.

"Are you doing a behavioral study on how Hermits react to past Cubfan pranks...?" Joe asks.

"Shhhh," Cleo says. "You'll give it away."

"WHO STOLE MY GODDAMN DIAMONDS!" roars Doc, storming out of his shop. "THEY'RE COVERED IN SCULK! CUBFAN, WHEN I GET YOU..."

"Ah," Joe says.

"You know, by now they should really suspect me more often," Cleo says cheerfully before taking a bite of what Joe figures to be an incredibly moldy cookie. (Is sculk mold? Joe thinks it counts.)

"That doesn't seem very food-safe," Joe says.

"I'm already dead," Cleo says.

"Oh, right. Fair," Joe says. "Can I have one? I'm technically a spirit possessing a puppet, so I figure I can't get botulism, or whatever food poisoning sculk does. Have you noticed that your eyes are also moldy?"

Cleo snorts. "That's a way you can phrase that. Yeah, okay, take one if you want. I need to write that down in my study."

Joe nods and takes a cookie for himself. Really, if it's Cleo, there's no avoiding whatever chaos happens next. He might as well join in. If he's lucky, he can even be an outlier in her science and mess up all her data! Wouldn't that just be a dream?

[sirenontheloose]

hiiii part 33333 pleaaaseeeeee

I'm just glad some of you are obsessed with this as much as I am LMAO

pt.1, pt.2

Please Don't Clip This pt.3

Lara rushed into her room and slammed the door shut behind her like the embarrassment was physically chasing her. She kicked her shoes off without aiming, tossed her jacket onto the desk chair, and dove face-first into her bed with a groan that echoed into her pillow.

Megan didn’t even flinch from her spot on the other bed. "That bad?"

"I should’ve just stayed seated," Lara mumbled into the blanket. "Why did I go up to her table? Why did I say anything? She looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole and now I’m the idiot who made it worse."

"You’re being dramatic," Megan said, scrolling through her phone. "You were chill. Charming, even."

Lara sat up slightly, just enough to glare. "Charming? I interrupted her dinner to remind her of the most embarrassing moment of her year."

Megan shrugged. "Bold of you to assume that’s the worst thing she’s done this year."

Lara let out a shaky laugh, then groaned again and collapsed back onto the bed. "I should’ve just waved from the table. Or not waved. Or sunk into the floor."

"You’re spiraling."

"I’m spiraling," Lara agreed.

She flipped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Her heart still hadn’t slowed down. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the moment again, Y/N blinking up at her, cheeks flushed, hoodie half-swallowed by her shoulders like she was trying to disappear. Lara thought she’d play it cool. She was cool, usually. However, the second she stood at Y/N’s table, every word felt like it came out just a little too fast, too soft, too hopeful. And Y/N’s reaction, that wide-eyed silence, well, it wasn’t exactly comforting.

What if she hated it? What if she was only being polite? What if the livestream was just a moment, and Lara had misread everything?

She grabbed her phone, not really expecting anything, just needing to distract herself before she overthought herself into a coma. She was about to open TikTok when her lock screen lit up. A DM. From Y/N.

hey it’s me. y/n. i didn’t think our first meeting would go like that and i’m sorry again for being a total mess during the livestream, but i meant what i said about you being gorgeous and all. so.. if you’re still in seoul and free tomorrow, would you wanna get dinner with me?

Lara sat up like someone had hit her with a defibrillator. "OH MY GOD," she blurted.

Megan startled, then peeked over at her screen. Her eyes widened. "No way. She actually, oh my God, she did."

"What do I say?" Lara whispered, clutching the phone like it might vanish if she moved too fast. "Do I say yes? Is it weird if I say yes right away?"

Megan snatched the phone from her and opened the Notes app. "Okay. Let’s start with 'hi' and work our way up from there."

Lara stared at her phone like it might combust if she touched it wrong. Her heart was pounding out a nervous beat, fingers trembling just above the keyboard while Megan practically hung over her shoulder.

"Read it again," Megan demanded, already grinning like she knew the ending.

"I’ve read it," Lara mumbled, eyes wide. "Like ten times."

"She wants to hang out," Lara blurted, too fast, too defensively, like saying it plain would make it less terrifying.

Megan squinted at her. "Lara, that’s not just hanging out."

"She didn’t say date."

"She called you gorgeous and asked you to dinner, how is that not a date."

Lara clutched her phone like it might shatter. "What if I mess it up again."

"You won’t. Just say yes, no emoji spiral, no punctuation panic, just breathe."

"I am breathing. I’m literally breathing right now."

"Yeah, you're breathing like someone who just ran a marathon blindfolded."

Lara typed each word like she was defusing a bomb with her bare hands.

that sounds really nice, i’d love to. what time were you thinking

Megan beamed. "Perfect, now send it, go."

"I haven’t sent it yet."

"Lara."

"I’m going to."

Right as her thumb hovered over send, the door swung open.

"What are you guys doing," Manon asked between bites of ice cream, already suspicious.

"Y/N just asked Lara out on a dinner date tomorrow," Megan blurted, bouncing like a kid who couldn’t keep a secret.

Lara shot her a look. "It’s not a date."

Manon froze mid-step. "No way, shut up, for real."

Lara handed her the phone wordlessly.

Manon scanned the message, then screamed into her spoon. "Lara, this is so real. You’re being courted."

Then her face dropped.

"Wait, wait, wait, don’t we have a flight tomorrow?"

Everything in the room screeched to a halt.

"What flight," Megan asked slowly, like she already regretted it.

"Gabriella promo. We’re going back to LA. They bumped it up, remember? We leave at five in the morning," Manon said, already pulling up her calendar.

"No," Lara whispered, like it physically hurt.

"Yes," Manon winced.

Lara sank onto the edge of the bed like the floor had fallen out from under her. Megan stopped bouncing.

"There has to be a way around it."

Lara didn’t say anything. She just stared at the screen like it was slipping away, inch by inch. "I should’ve just stayed seated," she muttered into her hands. "What if she thinks I don’t care now."

"She won’t," Manon said gently. "You just have to be honest."

"She probably already thinks I’m ghosting her," Lara muttered.

"She sent that like five minutes ago," Manon said, still beside her, softer now. "She’s probably still holding her phone, hoping you say yes."

Lara didn’t say anything. The excitement had fizzled too fast. She still had the message typed out, sitting there in her drafts like a promise she couldn’t keep. She stared at the screen, thumb hovering over send like muscle memory hadn’t caught up to her heart.

Megan watched her carefully from the other end of the bed, her earlier buzz fading too. "You okay?"

Lara shook her head, just a little. "I feel like I ruined it before it even started."

Manon reached over and handed her a bottle of water she had grabbed earlier, her expression gentle now. "You didn’t. The schedule sucks, not you." She sounded sure. Not just comforting her for the sake of it, but actually believing it. "She asked you out," she continued. "That means something. Whether you meet tomorrow or next week or next comeback, she wanted to see you. That doesn’t just vanish overnight."

"But what if she thinks I’m brushing her off?" Lara’s voice cracked, and she barely caught it.

"She won’t," Manon said without hesitation. "You already did the hard part. You went up to her. You said hi. If she meant what she said, and come on, she definitely meant it, this isn’t the end."

Lara didn’t answer. She just nodded once, then pulled her legs up and curled into the pillows. Megan leaned over, "We’ll figure it out. But maybe you should get some sleep."

Lara stared at the screen, thumb hovering. Then she typed, slowly.

i really want to but we’re flying back to la for work stuff tomorrow morning. i’m so sorry. can i have a rain check?

Then, before she could change her mind again, she hit send. The message disappeared into the chat, and she immediately rolled onto her back, arm flung over her face like she couldn’t bear to see what happened next.

It didn’t take long. Her phone buzzed less than a minute later. She sat up like she’d been electrocuted. Her heart was practically punching her ribs. She grabbed her phone and read the reply.

well are you free now

Lara’s breath caught. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at the screen like it might vanish if she blinked.

Megan caught the look first. "What? Did she respond? What’d she say?"

Lara turned the phone around slowly.

Manon leaned in, read it, screamed. "She did not just say that. She did not just say that, oh my God, she said that."

"Are you kidding?" Megan clutched a throw pillow to her chest. "She’s basically asking if she can see you tonight. Right now."

Lara just sat there, frozen in place, gripping her phone like a lifeline.

"Why are you not replying?" Manon was practically bouncing in place.

"I don’t know what to say."

Megan grabbed the pillow and launched it across the room. "Say yes. Say it right now before I explode."

Lara, heart hammering in her chest, tapped out her reply with fingers that could barely type straight.

yes

She hit send.

Not even five seconds passed before her screen lit up again.

where are you staying

The scream that came out of all three girls didn’t sound human. Manon hit the floor like she’d been tackled. Megan grabbed Lara by the wrist and yanked her to her feet. "You’re going. No questions."

"I’m not even ready," Lara said, half-laughing, half-panicking.

"You look hot," Megan said, already digging by the door. "Here. Shoes. Now."

She shoved a pair of sneakers into Lara’s hands and pushed her gently toward the exit. "You don’t need to change. You need to go."

Lara stood there for a second, clutching the shoes, hair a mess, nerves exploding like fireworks. But she was smiling.

She sent the address with shaking fingers before she could think twice. Then she bolted for the elevator, heart racing like it was trying to run ahead of her. By the time she stepped into the hotel lobby, her phone lit up again.

omw

Lara swore her heart actually skipped. She stared at the screen for a second too long, lips pressed tight, trying not to start smiling like an idiot in front of the staff. Y/N was coming.

She checked her reflection in the lobby mirror for the third time, smoothing down her hair even though it looked fine. The hoodie she’d been wearing since dinner still smelled faintly like BBQ, and she winced a little at that, tugging it down and brushing invisible lint off the sleeves. Too late to turn back now.

Her phone buzzed again.

i'm here

Lara turned so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. She scanned the front entrance like she was in a spy movie, eyes darting until she saw her. 

Y/N was stepping in, hood still half-up, mask pulled under her chin. Her hair was a little messy, like she’d rushed, cheeks slightly flushed from the night air. Her eyes found Lara’s almost instantly.

She smiled. It was soft and it hit Lara square in the chest.

Lara stood frozen for a second. Then her body remembered how to move.

They met halfway across the lobby, both a little breathless. "Hey," Y/N said, voice low and warm. Lara swallowed the knot in her throat. "Hey."

There was a pause. Not awkward, just full. Like both of them knew this wasn’t nothing. Y/N then let out a soft laugh and scratched the back of her neck. "I feel like this is the part where I say something cool," she said, eyes flicking to the ground, then back to Lara’s face.

Lara didn’t even think. "I like you."

It came out before she could stop it. Her eyes widened a little, the weight of the words catching up to her after they’d already fallen.

Y/N’s lips parted, surprise flickering across her face. Then it shifted, her whole expression melting into something soft and unreadable and so full of feeling, it made Lara dizzy. "You... like me?" she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Lara nodded, heart drumming so loud she could barely hear herself. "I do."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her lips curling into the gentlest smile. Her shoulders relaxed like she’d been holding something in without realizing.

"I like you too," she said, and it wasn’t dramatic or loud. It was just simple and certain.

She stepped a little closer, close enough that Lara could feel the warmth of her hoodie sleeve brush against hers. "Do you wanna go for a drive or something? I don’t really wanna go back yet." Lara nodded fast. "Yeah. That sounds perfect."

Y/N didn’t say anything, she just reached out, slow and gentle, her fingers brushing against Lara’s like a quiet question. Then, without rushing, she softly laced them together, careful but sure, like she wanted to make it clear she meant it.

Her thumb swept the back of Lara’s hand once, barely a touch, but it was enough to send sparks all the way up Lara’s arm.

Lara glanced down at their joined hands, her chest blooming with something warm and giddy, something that made her want to laugh and cry all at once.

Y/N looked over, her voice soft and a little shy. “Is this okay?”

Lara smiled, breathless. “More than okay.”

[heavyhitterheaux]

Her Biggest Fan

See Me Through You Fic

AN: Still not over this pic 😭

Synopsis: It's the final day of Fanatics fest and you and Joe participate in the panel and let's everyone know that he is your biggest fan

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: @hoodharlow 😘💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

It was the last day of Fanatics fest 2025 and the only events that you had left to do were the panel and meet and greets. Then you would finally be able to crawl into the bed at the hotel and sleep the rest of the day away before going back home.

Seeing that your twins were growing what it seemed to be by the minute, Joe along with your personal assistant Remy had asked you multiple times if you wanted to do the event at all. But seeing as you had already made the commitment, there was no way you were backing out now.

The panel would be hosted by Tiffany Haddish and would include you, Joe, Druski, OBJ, and James Harden. You had picked out your outfit the night before and when Joe saw what shoes you were wearing, he instantly became confused.

“Baby, aren't your feet going to hurt? Don't you want to wear flat shoes instead?” Joe asked out of concern.

“No, I want to wear these. Besides, they go with my outfit and I'm going to be sitting down the majority of the day. I'll be fine. Besides, I have a husband that will carry me if I get tired. And his name is Joseph Lee Burrow.” You told him as you leaned down to kiss him.

“I… you are so spoiled.”

“Not my fault, it's yours. Now go and finish getting ready while I do my hair.” You replied as you walked over to the mirror and began brushing it.

“Yes ma'am.”

As you were finishing the last braid in your hair, you felt a series of kicks that caught you off guard, but the only thing you did was smile. It was a feeling that you never got used to no matter how many times it happened. 

Looking down at your stomach, you began making small circles before talking to them.

“Hey, cut it out down there. You two better be on your best behavior today.”

While playing on your phone, Joe came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and you slowly placed it down in front of you before eyeing him and whistling.

“My eyes are up here, Mrs. Burrow.”

“But your dick is down there and that's what I'm looking at.”

“You don't have any shame do you?” 

“Nope. None at all. And I told your daughters to be on their best behavior but we'll see how that goes. I think Selene kicked me in the ribs just now. I don't know how I know that it was her, but I do.”

“They'll behave. We don't have too much longer to go.”

“We don't have a lot of time to talk about this right now, but just give me the short answer. And do not lie to make me feel better or to keep me calm.”

“What is it?” Joe asked you as he slipped on his shirt.

“You're scared shitless because they're basically going to be born at the beginning of the season and you feel a huge amount of pressure on your shoulders even more so than you normally do and for good reason. Just tell me yes or no because I think that you're trying to hide it from me but you suck at it. Okay now go.”

“The short answer is yes. It's not like we can sort of ease into this with one child and get a handle on it before having another one. We are literally starting off with two. I already do so much during the season and the last thing I want to do is obviously miss something. I'm their dad and I need to be there every step of the way. I worry about missing their first laugh, their first steps, first smile just because I was too busy and being a supportive husband to you. Suppose you have a c section? That's major surgery and you need someone to be here to help you recover. That should be me. Regardless if it's not, you still need me here.”

You sighed before nodding your head as he now came to sit across from you.

“And that's why it takes a village. Bottom line is that we are going to need help and luckily we are in that position to have it. We have both of our parents who wouldn't even hesitate to help us. We are going to be amazing parents and the best thing about all of this is that we got our fairytale ending because at one point, you thought that you were going to have to live without me. We are going to get through this because we have each other.”

Joe slowly nodded his head before grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. He held onto it as he let out a deep sigh.

“You know WE love you right?” You asked with a smile as you pointed with your other hand to your belly.

“And you show me every single day no matter what. Especially when I get on your nerves.” 

–

The panel was now underway, but the only thing that you could focus on at the moment was how hungry you were. You kept zoning in and out and a few times, Joe had to grab your hand and ask if you were okay.

But you tuned all the way in as Tiffany had just asked Joe a question regarding his outfits and how he picks them during the season.

“And Joe, you look like you could be a model from the 1900s. Doesn't matter what you were modeling, I'd look.” She added and you smiled while nodding your head.

“YOU'RE SO SEXY JOE!” You heard a fan scream from the audience with Tiffany quickly agreeing.

“See? She gets it.”

“Thank you everybody, I suppose. However, my wife is next to me and before you ask, yes, she can fight.” Joe said without hesitation as he looked over at you before a laugh escaped his mouth.

“Don't let her being barely 5 feet fool you.”

“Aye! Y/N, I don't want any smoke I swear! I just like to look.” Tiffany told you and you playfully eyed her.

“You can look, but don't touch. That's been mine since 2018.”

“And do you sometimes help him pick his outfits during the season?”

“Yes and no. Sometimes I get surprised just like everyone else. You guys remember the pants from two seasons ago? Yall know what I'm talking about. THE PANTS.  I hated them so much that I hid them in our house and I honestly don’t remember where I put them.”

“It's okay, Ja'Marr bought me another pair.”

“And I'll hide those too. Don't tell me that.”

“But can we talk about last year and fashion week? The Met Gala?” Tiffany asked and you started fanning yourself.

“Two words, back muscles.” You quietly said while winking at Joe.

“No Y/N! No bedroom eyes right now! You're already pregnant and need to behave at least until the panel is over.”

“No promises, Tiffany.”

Joe couldn't even form a sentence because he kept laughing at the two of you. When he finally stopped, he was able to answer the question.

“It was definitely out of my comfort zone and that was actually not the original suit that I was going to wear. I had fun and I'll probably do more in the future. I mean I like to have fun with fashion during the offseason. We're locked down for seven months out of the year so it's nice to have some downtime and I'm going to take advantage of that. I've always liked colors since I was in high school, pink, purple, but not red…”

“Wait, Joe you a crip?” Druski asked and you couldn't hold in your laugh.

“I just don't like red and how it looks on me. The color makes me think of violence.”

“Yeah, he's a crip.” Druski added while a look of shock came across his face.

“No, but maybe one day. You never know.”

“Learn something new everyday. Now onto Y/N. Do you feel that your fashion has changed since you got into the spotlight?”

“Definitely more expensive than it used to be…”

“I know all about that.” Joe added and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Ignoring you over there. But I do like to take risks and I think that's a big deal. Being invited to the Met and trying to do something on theme, but at the same time wanting it to incorporate your style can be fun when you get to choose all the different patterns and colors and to see what looks the best.”

After rating multiple outfits from different celebrities, Tiffany opened up the panel for the audience to ask questions.

“My question is for Y/N. Does it bother you that you're basically looked at as a trophy wife and that Joe's accomplishments overshadow yours?”

You had a look of confusion on your face and Joe of course quickly stepped in to answer.

“Pause, not too much on my wife. Let me stop you right there. I'm answering this because what just came out of your mouth isn't true at all. She can stand all on her own just fine without me seeing as only one of us has been to the Olympics multiple times. And let's be serious, she can probably kick everyone's ass in this room. She is so accomplished and so dedicated to what she does and I'm obviously proud of her. As long as she's happy that's what's important. There is no way in hell that the average everyday person can do what she does. Her saying yes to marry me was a bonus.” 

“Well said and these hormones are probably going to make me cry. But to add to that, I have never felt like I came second to him or that people overlooked me even when we were at LSU together. He supports me at the same level that I support him. I mean just last summer at the Olympics since he couldn’t go because of training camp starting, they surprised him and told him to come an hour early not knowing that they specifically blocked out their morning to watch me compete. And the entire team made a video for me saying how proud they were of me.”

“Very good answers, you two. Now how about you in the pink right there.”

“Hi Joe and Y/N! This is for both of you. Y/N, what was your mindset when the awarding of your medal got reviewed and Joe, how did you help support her through it?”

“Very good question. First off as many people know, no one honestly thought I would be alive to even compete again. I had to learn how to basically do everything all over again and had never trained so hard in order to be able to qualify to go back. So with that being said because of everything that I had gone through it felt like a slap in the face. Like this was supposed to be the ultimate comeback story. Granted, I did walk away with other medals but that one really stung especially knowing that I didn't have as many mistakes as the other competitor.” You replied as you looked over at Joe to continue.

“First off, I've always been confident in my wife's talents and I'm glad we all get to see her thrive in what she's best at because like she mentioned, there was a time where we didn't even think she would be here. When it originally happened, she facetimed me and was obviously crying and upset and I remember her saying that ‘all of my hard work meant absolutely nothing’ and I had to shut it down as soon as she did. I mean they didn't even think she would recover. But she did. They didn't think she would walk again, but she did. So to see her going from laying in a hospital bed intubated and in a coma to competing again is mind blowing and I had to tell her that she beat the odds. That by itself was something for her to be proud of. I'm her biggest fan and she knows it.” Joe confidently answered as you couldn't contain your smile.

“I think we need to have a panel with just Joe and Y/N next year because you two are the picture perfect couple of the sports world.” Tiffany suggested and you simply nodded your head towards her.

“We are not opposed to the idea, but next year there will be four of us instead of two.” You replied while pointing to your belly.

“I can babysit!” Druski yelled out and both you and Joe eyed him.

“Druski, I wouldn't trust you to watch my pet fish.”

“Well do you have one? We can do a trial run.”

“We don't and we're not buying one to test this theory either.”

–

Joe was holding your hand, while your heels were in the other as the two of you were walking to your hotel room. 

It had been a long day or weekend rather, and all you wanted was to lay down and get cuddles from your husband.

“Thank you babe for bringing my flats.” You looked up at him as he just shook his head.

“Don't you think I know you by now? I knew that you wouldn't last in those heels. And you're welcome, pretty girl.”

“But I went almost the entire day! It only got bad in like the last hour and a half.”

“Almost and now your feet are swollen again. You need to elevate them when we get in here.” He replied as he opened the hotel room door and stood to the side to let you in first.

“And a foot rub from my husband!”

“If that's what my wife wants. Anything else?” He asked as you were starting to take off your outfit and get comfortable.

“Just kisses.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Joe told you while he began unbuttoning his shirt.

After doing your nighttime routine and of course making Joe do a face mask with you, the two of you crawl into bed as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Babe?”

“Yes?”

You didn't reply, but instead grabbed his hand and placed it on your stomach so that he could feel the twins kick.

“And thank you for always defending and protecting me.” You finally said and Joe responded by placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Always going to be here to do it no matter what. Like I said earlier, I'm your biggest fan and want you to succeed at everything that you do.”

“And the same goes for you.” 

[seungsoftly]

enhypen at the gym with you

⟢ genre: drabble/suggestive ⟢ wc: 2.1k ⟢ warnings: enha and y/n thirsting over each other, mentions of kissing, slight menstrual cycle mention, slightly crazy workout behavior

livi's note ✸ this drabble has been floating in my head for a couple of days now, and i really love thinking about how enha would be when they take you to the gym with them. (i'm a sucker for gymrat enha). this is on the shorter side compared to my other drabbles, but i think their behavior doesn't require much to say about it. hope you guys enjoy!

⟢ taglist: @s1rawb3rry

⟢ lee heeseung

i think heeseung would love taking you to the gym with him just to see you in action while you worked out. he rarely gets to see you like this, doing squats with weights and on the leg press, like the days that he begrudgingly does legs instead of arms or abs, so he’s soaking it all in, distracted from his own workout.

he’d definitely be hovering around you, ready to spot you if you needed it, but leaving you be unless you asked for his help specifically. it’s honestly more hot to him to watch you do things like this on your own like the stunning girlfriend you are to him than to be over there all on you.

he knows you can handle yourself, but he will be on the watch for any other men with wandering eyes, moving just a little closer to you if there was someone who looked like he was a little too close to you for heeseung’s comfort.

and since watching you had distracted him from his own workout, you get done with your sets earlier than he does, standing over him while he’s doing sit ups. this is his favorite way to wrap up a session at the gym, looking at you, all sweaty but still gorgeous nonetheless, while he keeps himself in shape for you. some days, you’ll even hold his feet down and give him a kiss at the top of each rep.

⟢ park jongseong

jay is taking no chances in the gym. he will quite literally be over your shoulder permanently, adjusting his own workout to fit right alongside yours, which allows the two of you to just take turns doing sets and spotting each other on the same machines. (and by spotting, i mean jay actually spotting you and you just standing there and watching your boyfriend pump iron and get all hot and sweaty)

he’ll be the absolute best spotter ever, but at the same time he’ll just keep telling you to push and get the weight all the way up and then he’ll tell you to do another rep in that voice of his that he knows makes you absolutely melt on the inside. when he says he knows you well, he means it.

the man is crazy dedicated to his gym schedule, having to go at least five times a week with his routine so clearly established at this point. you’re an amazing girlfriend to him, so he just wants to give back and keep himself in the best shape for you. (and the gym makes him feel better about himself and keeps him sane)

towards the end of your workouts, you two do abs on the mat together, each taking turns to pick the next exercise to do and motivating each other to keep going until the end of the one minute timer set for each exercise on your phone. after this is done, jay typically insists on doing some body weight exercises as you cool down. and by body weight, i mean him making you sit on his back as he does sets of pushups and squats.

⟢ sim jaeyun

to be quite honest, you go to the gym more often than jake does. he prefers to run around and play basketball or soccer at the park on random days over moving weights around. however, if you ask him to go with you, you won’t even be able to finish your whole sentence before he enthusiastically agrees and runs off to get everything that you and him may need for a gym session. water bottles, sports drinks, towels, good shoes to wear to the gym, and he’ll put it all in the car for you and grab all of it when you two get to the gym.

jake is the definition of distracted when he sees you in your gym outfit, fitted tank top and shorts on some days and a sports bra and tight leggings on others. he just can’t help but stare, enthralled by you and still confused about how you’re dating him of all people.

he’ll be by your side constantly, darting around and helping with your every need as you move through your workout. jake is a pretty good spotter, always watching your face to see whether or not you need help getting the weights up, although he might have been staring at you because he’s obsessed with how pretty you are first.

he’d be so focused on you that he forgot he needs to do his own workout, only remembering when you remind him as you’re delicately patting sweat off your face and then taking a sip or two out of the water bottle he just handed you. so you’d go sit through his workout with him, offering him encouragement through every rep.

jake would be huffing and puffing through his sets, determined to impress you with every move he makes and pushing his body to the very limits. he’d beg you to give him a long kiss every time he hit a pr on something, and you’d oblige him after just a bit of teasing. this just made the cycle continue, jake working himself half to death on every single exercise that he did just to get that pr kiss every time you two worked out together.

⟢ park sunghoon

on the rare occasion that you join sunghoon at the gym, he’ll switch from your boyfriend into your personal trainer like that. he’s already got a workout plan for you typed up, prepared weeks ago along with many other workouts. he’s made a variety too, and he picked one for you for that day based partly on what he was doing for his own workout and partly on how much energy you had for whatever point you were at in your cycle.

sunghoon goes to the gym so often that all of the staff know who he is. they also know to stay far away from him and especially from you as you two are working out, and the other gym goers have likely sensed this energy as well, so you two have a whole corner of the gym to yourself.

the first thing that sunghoon does is make you stretch with him, ensuring that there are no pulled or torn muscles for you to complain about later and hopefully helping you to be a little bit less sore. it’s just a part of his routine that he cannot skip, especially with someone like you who doesn’t go to the gym and lift weights that often. you prefer to keep fit by going to a biweekly yoga class and walking every day.

then, you two move into the actual workout. today is leg day, which means sunghoon is going to be right behind you as you squat the barbell, telling you to get up with a rapid tone and continuing to instruct you to do more reps even after you’d passed the number that he’d originally told you was in your set.

not to mention when you move onto the leg press, he’ll do the same thing, except he’ll also add more weight without telling you. safe to say you were surprised to learn that you could lift a lot more than you thought you could. and after all of this, when it’s his turn for his sets, he’ll do over double the weight that you could, smirking confidently at you as you just watch him in his element. it’s obvious to him that you find it attractive when he does so, so why not give you a good show after all your hard work?

⟢ kim sunoo

honestly, you and sunoo aren’t really the type of couple to be huge gym goers. sure, you two do like to stay fit, but you mainly do so by taking walks together or just going to the gym to use the stairmaster and the little section with yoga mats for some self-stretching and simple pilates.

you two have a schedule set up, written neatly on the cute little calendar that hangs on the kitchen wall in your apartment, where you’ll take a trip to the gym together for a short little bit two days a week. one is more stairmaster focused and the other is more stretching and pilates focused.

it’s a good balance for the two of you. sometimes you’ll even spot sunghoon or jay at the gym, offering them a nice wave before walking over to the area that you two will be in that day as they walk by towards the weights. the two of you really haven’t gone over there at all, and that’s okay to you and sunoo. it’s just not your type of workout.

the two of you like to spend your time chattering as well, talking about the latest news that you’d heard from your friends as you lean forward and stretch your legs and sunoo does the same. he’ll also offer you some words of encouragement on the more difficult days when you’re on the stairmaster. you’ll be barely making it onto the next step, and his voice is really the only thing that will actually get you through the workout. there’s a reason that you call him your sunshine.

⟢ yang jungwon

i feel like jungwon would be somewhere between jay and heeseung. when you go to the gym with him, your workouts are often not coordinated and you two head to different areas of the machines. yes, you still stay within sight of each other, but you’re not right on each other either.

he knows that you can handle yourself in the gym, having been a pilates girl for some time now, and he was confident that you could fend off any wandering men that happened to go over to you. you could be bold when you wanted to, and that's how you defended yourself from thirsty men at the gym and how you defended your boyfriend from the influencer girls that saw him all alone.

in fact, sometimes it’s even attractive to him when you have to shoo away men from you. in the sense of you being such a queen and amazing girlfriend, not in the sense of another man hitting on his girl. that’s his least favorite part about it. although after that happens, jungwon will make his way closer to you, standing around as you do your workout and helping by teasing you just a little bit and putting more weight on the bar or grabbing you a heavier dumbbell to show you that you can lift just a little more.

he’s overall just a chill guy at the gym with you. jungwon’s not going to show off too terribly much because he’d much rather do it in the comfort of your own apartment instead of in public with other girls around, but he will flex his muscles for you if you ask. usually he’ll just talk with you instead and ask all about what you can do with your pilates skills.

⟢ nishimura riki

ni-ki definitely makes every time you work out together a competition. who can hold a plank the longest. who can do the most weight on the leg press. who can hip thrust the most reps. it’s a good way to liven up your workout time, that’s for sure.

he’s always teasing about how he can lift more than you and beat you at said work out competition, and then you’ll spout off into a whole rant about how he always rigs it with the exercises that he does crazily often and that you don’t do a lot. his only response, of course, is that maybe you should have done it more then.

you two are definitely known as the sporty couple in your friend group, attending the gym quite often together and always looking good while you do it. like everyone stares at you two when you walk in, you in your matching workout set and ni-ki in his compression shirt and workout shorts. and then they know to stop staring at you and just leave you alone like they do sunghoon.

every once in a while, you two will have what you call a mile marathon race. it’s where you both run a mile on the treadmill, then do a minute-long plank, and finally twenty jump squats. then you two just repeat those three things over and over until one of you taps out. your friends and some of the other gym regulars call you two crazy for it, but it’s just yet another part of your lively relationship.

divider credits to @chachachannah

© seungsoftly 2025 please do not copy, repost, or translate

this is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen. please do not take this as real.

[deansbeer]

Hey girly! I'm a big fan of your writing and idk if you're open to requests but I was just wondering if I could get reader being really into Ben wearing his Soldier Boy supe suit and wanting to ride him while he wears it... Pretty please 🛐

hi baby! thank you so so much <3 reader being into soldier boy wearing his suit during sex is literally me lol

warnings 𓏵 smut | spanking | hair pulling | light degrading | praise kink | unprotected sex (use the damn rubber) | semi-public sex | suit kink | power dynamics | marking | mentions of enhanced superpowers | mentions of whiskey | pet names (cowgirl, baby, sweetheart) | slight objectification.

the compound is quiet this late, everyone else either asleep or out on assignment. you find him in the common room, still in full uniform from today’s press conference, nursing a whiskey and looking every inch the american hero they painted him as. except you know better — know the man beneath the propaganda, all rough edges and barely contained violence.

“thought you’d be in bed,” he says without looking up, but you catch the smirk playing at his lips. ben always knows when you’re near, says he can smell your perfume from three rooms away. probably bullshit, but with him you never really know where the enhancements end and the showmanship begins.

you cross the room slowly, deliberately, watching as his eyes finally lift to track your movement. you’re wearing one of his old shirts and nothing else, and his grip tightens on the glass in his hand. “couldn’t sleep,” you tell him, stopping just out of reach. “kept thinking about you in that suit today.”

“that right?” his voice drops an octave, all smoke and gravel and dangerous promise. he sets the glass aside, leaning back in the leather chair like a king on his throne. the suit stretches across his broad chest, that stupid eagle emblem catching the low light. “c’mere then.”

you move closer but he’s impatient, always is, and his hands find your hips to pull you onto his lap. the kevlar is rough against your bare thighs as you straddle him, and he groans low in his throat. “fuck, sweetheart. you really got a thing for the suit, huh?”

“shut up,” you mutter, but you’re already rocking against him, feeling him harden beneath all that armor. your hands trace the star on his chest, following the lines of muscle beneath. there’s something about him like this — all suited up, ready for war, but completely at your mercy — that makes you dizzy with want.

his hands are everywhere, pushing up the shirt to grab at bare skin. “my dirty girl,” he growls against your neck, teeth grazing that sensitive spot below your ear. “gettin’ all wet just from sitting on captain America’s lap.”

“you’re not captain america,” you gasp as he bites down harder, definitely leaving a mark. you’ll have to cover it tomorrow, but right now you don’t care. your fingers work at his belt, struggling with all the tactical buckles and straps.

ben laughs, dark and rich. “no, but i’m sure as hell better.” his hand comes down on your ass, sharp and sudden, making you jolt against him. “and you fuckin’ love it. love ridin’ the real hero, don’t ya?”

finally, finally, you get his suit open enough to free him, and he’s already rock hard and leaking. “look what you do to me,” he grits out as you line yourself up. “walkin’ around in my clothes, teasin’ me all damn day.”

you sink down slowly, savoring the stretch, the burn, the way his fingers dig bruises into your hips. the suit’s still mostly on, all that red and green and gold, and something about fucking him while he’s dressed like america’s savior makes it even hotter.

“yeaah, cowgirl,” he groans as you start to move, finding your rhythm. “ride your soldier boy. show me how much you missed me.” another smack to your ass, harder this time, and you clench around him in response.

the chair creaks beneath you both as you pick up the pace, chasing that sweet friction. ben’s got one hand fisted in your hair, pulling just hard enough to make your eyes water, while the other keeps up a steady rhythm of spanks that have your skin burning.

“look at ya,” he pants, watching where you’re joined with dark, hungry eyes. “takin’ me so well. my perfect lil’ cowgirl.” the praise mixed with degradation has always been his specialty, knowing exactly what buttons to push to make you fall apart.

you’re close, so close, and he knows it. can tell by the way your movements become erratic, desperate. “that’s it, sweetheart. come all over my cock. show me who you belong to.” his thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that have you seeing stars.

everything whites out for a moment as you come, clenching around him while he holds you through it. ben’s not far behind, hips jerking up to meet yours as he spills inside you with a growl of your name. real name, not sweetheart, baby, or cowgirl or any of his other pet names. just you.

you collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard. the eagle emblem is cool against your flushed cheek, and you can hear his heart hammering beneath all that armor. his hands are gentle now, soothing over the marks he left.

“gonna be sore tomorrow,” he murmurs, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. you bite his neck in retaliation, right above the collar of his suit, and feel his spent cock twitch inside you. “careful, doll. keep that up ‘n we’re going for round two.”

“promises, promises,” you mumble against his skin, but you’re already exhausted, boneless and satisfied in his lap. ben chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours.

“c’mon, darlin’,” he says eventually, lifting you easily even with the awkward angle. “let’s get you all cleaned up and in bed.” the compound’s still quiet as he carries you to his room, you clinging to him like a koala, his suit still half-undone and stained with evidence of what you just did.

tomorrow he’ll be back to playing the part — the perfect soldier, america’s golden boy. but tonight he’s yours, spanking marks on your ass and his cum dripping down your thighs, proof that even heroes have their vices. and if his happens to be you? well, you’re not complaining.

[gothicfied]

hi!! i LOVE your writing! i was wondering if you could write something about dae ho meeting reader in the game, maybe she doesnt speak korean? like theres a whole language barrier thing and he sort of becomes her unofficial translator? something cute like that <3 thank you!!!

Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 with a foreign reader

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x foreign!reader (SEASON 2)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Mentions of gunshots, killing, death (Typical Squid Game stuff), this is set in Season 2, Reader doesn't have a specific ethnicity/race and is just said to be foreign to South Korea, other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (English isn't my first language... how ironic)

A/N: Alright, so this request is literally like 6 months old AND I AM SO SORRY TO THE ANON WHO ASKED THIS😭 this has been sitting here in my drafts, unfinished until now. Season 3 came out today and I obviously had to binge watch the entire thing. I won't spoil anything, but I'd rather take S2!Dae-ho over S3!Dae-ho and I can definitely write more about the former. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoy my writing and I hope this doesn't suck lololol

This place was so bizarre. You didn't speak Korean, or at least not well enough to understand what was really going on. When you came to South Korea to study, you didn't think the living experience would be so expensive and exhausting. Coming here, being put into these uniformly tracksuits and only being talked to by your number gave you an eerie feeling.

If it wasn't already hard understanding what was going on — Because you certainly didn't expect this when the guy in the suit gave you an opportunity to win money — it's definitely going to be hard now: When other people started looking at you funny. Because you're not from there, they recognized it straight away. With your broken Korean, you understood whispers like "Look, a foreigner.." and "What's someone like that doing here?" It made you feel even more left out.

From context clues and certain English words the other players used while talking, you kind of picked up on what this thing is. You play games, if you win you get to go to the next round, if you lose... you're out. And you single handedly got to experience what it meant to 'be out'.

No one told you anything. No pink guards, no other players, no one had the decency to let you in on things. While nervously standing in this big arena, walls painted to look like grass with a baby blue sky and a big doll-like statue standing roughly 20 meters on the other side, you suddenly felt a tap on your shoulder.

You quickly snapped your head back to see a guy with the number 388 printed on his jacket. "It's Red Light, Green Light." He told you, his English sounding better than you had expected. You felt so relieved when finally hearing a familiar language and you expression immediately softened while looking at him. "What?" The man pointed at the statue on the other side. "You know.. the game? You go when it's Green Light, you stop when it's Red Light."

Your eyes followed the direction his finger pointed at and nodded like you understood him. "Thank you." The man smiled at you and patted on your back, saying something back in Korean you could hardly make out.

The language barrier made you miss the whole frenzy monologue the guy with the number 456 had before the game started. When looking around, all you could see is shocked faces, people in distress or the complete opposite: People not taking him seriously. You didn't know what was going on, but as soon as the statue of the girl turned to the tree behind her and a jingle started to play, everyone made a move in her direction. You did too, what else could you do?

Then suddenly— Pang. A gunshot, really loud, echoed through the arena and killed a girl. Frozen in shock, you watched as the other players around her started to freak out and move, getting shot one by one, orchestrating an absolute massacre.

It's a miracle you made it out.

On the way back to the sleeping area, or whatever this was, you felt a familiar tap on your shoulder behind you. "Hey," It's Player 388. "You made it!"

"Yes. Thank you again.. I just. I don't understand, they literally killed these people. I don't understand anything, what is going on here—?" Dae-ho saw the discomfort and fear in your eyes and decided to tell you what Gi-hun had previously yelled at all the participants. The things that went down at the Game were gruesome, but man, he couldn't even imagine trying to survive while not even understanding the language.

"So.. wait, you're telling me that when you get eliminated during one of those Games you get killed? Like they fucking shoot you?" You asked Dae-ho, who had now also introduced himself to you, and he just nodded. "He said that." He pointed in the vague direction of where Gi-hun had retreated once in the sleeping area again. "Dude, no this is so fucked up.. I gotta go! We can't die in here, they can't do this?"

You started to hyperventilate. Die? In this shithole? Oh my god, why did you even say yes to this stupid thing? It should've been suspicious enough that a guy in a suit would play a traditional Korean childhood game and slap you if you lost. But.. you needed the money. Carefully, Dae-ho placed a hand on your shoulder and looked around to see if anyone was listening in on your conversation.

"I will help you." He said with the most calm expression ever. Sure, he was scared himself, scared shitless even. But, seeing a young woman — A foreigner — in such distress.. it reminded him of his sisters. And he always swore up and down that he'd protect them, too.

"They don't," Player 388 pointed around the area, "Speak English well. I will help you, okay? I can tell you things." His Korean accent was quite cute whenever he spoke, which made you calm down a bit more and smile. You, again, expressed your gratitude to him and sniffled a bit. "Is there no way out of this?"

Dae-ho shook his head. Well, he didn't know, but he just assumed there wasn't. He went on to ask you more about yourself in general, why you were here, where you came from. It was nice having a conversation in English after trying to learn and speak Korean for months on end.

"I'm so sorry. Korea made a bad impression on you." You chuckled a bit and shook your head. You knew how to appreciate the country, it's culture and it's people. But this was definitely weird and definitely illegal. Dae-ho was here for you, though. He made you that promise now.

"I will protect you and help you, okay?"

Slowly, you raised your hand and held out your pinky for him to interlink with his. "Pinky promise?" The man looked at your hand and then back up to you with a confused look on his face. "Pinky... promise?" You smiled when you understood that he doesn't quite get what you mean. Or maybe he just hasn't ever heard of the expression before. "Like.. pinky promise, you do this," With your other hand you took his to make the same motion and interlinked your pinkies, "And now you're not allowed to break the promise."

Dae-ho grinned. "Okay, pinky promise."