#and it will stop them from moving where they really need to be

[poppy-metal]

ok OK i need to get back into the mindset to finish this p2 of dilf!Art so i need to talk to you about dilf!Art who uses you for free use but in the sense of coming up behind you with a “m’sorry just need it” before mounting you like a fucking dog and humping the shit out of you

he needs it so bad :((( especially when you're doing household tasks.... acting like a little housewife.... doing the dishes - making food - things you dont even have to do, because he's rich, he has staff, but you like to take care of him sometimes, of his home. makes you feel good. accomplished.

and art - well. hes a simple man. he's always hyped up after time on the court. its just training, exercise. but tennis always gets his blood pumping - especially now that he actually enjoys it again. a day of slamming balls across the court, working his style, perfecting it, he's drenched in sweat. his bones aching. he just wants to take a fucking nap. have dinner with you and his daughter.

when he comes into the kitchen and sees you, half bent at the waist as you rinse a pot, he just. stops and stares. he registers the oven on, and something baking inside it. his tennis bag drops.

you look over your shoulder. smile at the sight of him. flushed and tall next to the kitchen island. "hi," you tell him sweetly. "you're back!"

"im back." he echoes. swallows. puts his hand on the counter next to him with his fingers splayed out. looks behind him into the living room. "where's lily?"

you follow his gaze - "she's upstairs reading. she's halfway through percy jackson. she'll probably talk your ear off about it at dinner."

he blinks and turns back to give you his full attention. his lips are parted. he licks them. "you're cooking." he states. takes one step forward.

tilting your head, you study him. his chest is moving up and down more quickly than normal. his cheeks are pink, which could be from his activity from outside, but his eyes are dark. oh. hes turned on. by you cooking?

"i am." you tell him. "nothing fancy. im not as good as the chef you hired." you shrug. "but i thought something simple might be nice, i dunno."

"it is nice." he's covered most of the space between you now. "you're nice."

you turn back to the sink, biting your bottom lip to hide your giddy smile. being praised by art sends warmth right to your lower belly. its like sinking into a warm bath. you feel the heat of arts body behind you - "i just wanted to make you happy." you tell him softly.

arts arms come up on each side of you, caging you in. you feel his chest brush against your back and you breathe in. his forearm brushes against you as he reaches out and shuts off the running water to the sink. "im very happy." you feel his nose against the back of your neck next, trailing up, up, up, his hips meet your ass next. hes a wall of solid muscle behind you. "you smell so good. how do you always smell so good - "

you tilt your neck, letting him have access to you which he takes full advantage of. nuzzling into your throat. lips at the shell of your ear, tugging it between his teeth. "Its -" you try, fumble and try again. hard to talk in full sentences when art donaldsons hard cock is pressing against the crease of your ass. "its um. warm vanilla."

"mm." he hums. your hips are pinned between the sink and his pelvis. the short sundress you're wearing is already drawing up your thighs as he pushes forward with his body, making you bend. "i wanna tell you how much this means to me, and how much i appreciate you - but I'm distracted by how much i really, really want to fuck you."

you wiggle your butt against him. feel warm wet flood between your legs. "you know," you pant, "you know you can have anything you want - anytime - b-but the food -"

arts hands are already at your thighs, shoving your dress up and up, up around your hips, puddling it around your waist - "I'll be quick." he promises, and you hear the clink of his belt as he yanks it through the loops - the sound of his shorts hitting the ground next. "need to feel you -" you feel him, warm and hard at your inner thigh, "fuck, you're not wearing any panties. you wanted this -"

you cant even deny it. arching back into him as he finds the seam of your pussy, "i always want you." you whine, toes curling when you feel him split you open - parting you and pushing inside slick and easy. "ohhhhh-"

"you're so good." art sounds agonized. his fingers dig into your hips as he starts to thrust - smacking his hips into your ass - quick, hard pounds of his cock. he really fucking - "needed this." he groans. "needed your - fucking tight little pussy. always fucking need it-"

the pain of the counter digging into your hips just adds to the pleasure somehow. feeling completely pinned on arts cock, forced to take what you're given as he takes what he needs from your body. your warm tight body.

"its yours." you moan, soft and worshipful. "whenever you want it - its yours -"

arts teeth are sharp as they dig into the back of your neck. you think briefly of a rabbit caught in the jaws of a predator - your heart beating rapidly as you're held in place - art groans into your flesh like hes wounded. wet slaps filling the kitchen as he fucks you harder.

you tighten around him. know soon he'll be filling you up, pumping you full. you hope dinner will be salvageable. you dont think you give a fuck, though.

[missberrycake]

So, I know we all love the headcanon that Eddie moved in with Wayne when he was a teen or a pre-teen, be it because one or both parents died, chucked him out, are in prison, etc. But! I’ve been thinking about another option.

What if Wayne has been looking after Eddie since he was a toddler?

It all comes as a bit of a shock to Wayne who, in his early forties, had pretty much assumed he’d missed the boat on the whole ‘kids’ thing. And yet, here he is, taking in his baby nephew when his brother turns up on his doorstep one day.

When it starts, it’s only supposed to be for a short while. His brother’s wife is newly out of the picture (it’s a crying shame, Wayne had liked her, she’d stayed a gentle soul throughout) and he just needs some time to get himself sorted, right? But then a week turns into a month, turns into two months, turns into half a year and Wayne? Well, he gets attached to the kid, so sue him. 

Because little Eddie is a rambunctious boy. He’s full of gummy smiles and bubbling laughter and Wayne runs himself in circles trying to stop him from toddling into sharp corners and sockets and yards of rope. The two of them are well suited, it seems, and Wayne takes to settling Eddie on his knee in the evenings and going through the races for the next day in the paper.

Eddie chooses a winner more than once. 

Every day, when Wayne comes to pick him up from Julia’s two trailers over (he’s still got to work, something his brother hadn’t considered before he left, or maybe he didn’t care), Eddie greets him with his arms out, already chatting away with the handful of phrases that he knows. 

The boy’s hair is soft and his cheeks smooth and if Wayne gets a little sentimental when he tucks him into bed at night, then nobody else needs to know, do they?

He’s a sweet boy. He deserves someone to care for him. 

So when his brother turns up again with vague mutterings about there being some work for him down in Florida, Wayne’s chest aches. 

“What’s your plan for the littl'un?” he asks.

“Ed? Whad’ya mean?”

“I mean, have you got a place to stay lined up? Who’s gonna look after him while you’re working?”

“I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

He shrugs and Wayne feels something close to panic bubbling in his veins. When he suggests that perhaps his brother should travel ahead, get himself settled first before sending for Eddie, he doesn’t expect him to agree so readily. He can’t say he’s much surprised though. 

The entire exchange doesn’t take more than ten minutes and his brother doesn’t ask after Eddie once, doesn’t show any desire to see him, doesn’t even step inside the trailer—not one jot of fatherly affection shines through. 

It only occurs to Wayne that evening that perhaps this was the outcome his brother wanted. But, hell, it’s fine with him—he’ll let him think he’s winning. Wayne knows who’s got the real prize here. 

He doesn’t mention the visit to Eddie, the kid doesn’t need to know, too busy digging holes and collecting bugs. 

Just like he expected, his brother never sends for the boy. They get letters for the first few years, poorly wrapped and ill-thought through trinkets for the kid’s birthday and Christmas, but it’s not long until they fall by the wayside too. 

Once Eddie’s older, they have a conversation about it. Have to, really, when Eddie comes home from preschool and is full to the brim of questions, because apparently Peter Gillespie says that everyone has to have a mom and a dad, “and I know I have a mom because you’ve told me about her and I said that she’s not around and Mrs. Lang told Peter to be quiet but then I thought about it, but I don’t know, ‘cause you’re my dad, right? I know I don’t call you dad, but that’s what you are, isn’t it? Because what else would you be and Peter says I have to have one.”

It floors Wayne for a moment, but he recovers quickly. He leads Eddie to the couch where he sets him on his lap. For the next while the two of them look through all the pictures that Wayne can find of Eddie’s mom and Wayne’s brother. Wayne makes sure to hold him close and tells him it doesn’t matter that he’s ���just’ his uncle, that he loves him as much as he would a kid of his own, that he’ll always be around to take care of him. And Eddie takes it all in his stride, in the way only children can. 

“So I can’t call you dad?” he asks.

Wayne lets out a long breath, rubs at his jaw. 

“It’s not that you can’t, kiddo, it’s just that I ain’t.“ 

Because it feels a little like stealing. What would happen, if one day his brother came back and found his kid calling Wayne ‘Dad’. If the boot were on the other foot, Wayne would be angry as all heck. And there was still time, wasn’t there? For his brother to see the error of his ways? Who was Wayne to keep all of that from Eddie? 

“Okay,” Eddie says quietly. “Uncle Wayne is still good.”

“Oh, it’s still good, is it?” Wayne crows and squeezes Eddie tight. “I’m sure glad I meet your high standards, your majesty.”

Eddie just giggles at that. He always giggles when Wayne puts on his voices. 

“And what would the esteemed gentleman like for dinner tonight, huh? The options are spaghetti hoops, spaghetti hoops, or - now let me think. Oh! Spaghetti hoops.”

The nail in the coffin comes one day in the summer of 1978, just before Eddie’s twelfth birthday. It’s been over eight years since his brother dropped him off in search of better things and sure, there have been some days where Wayne has been tearing his hair out, but through all of it he knows he made the right decision that day in the doorway of the trailer. He wouldn’t change Eddie for the world, and he knows by now that there are some out there that would, who would only see the difficult or the different in him, but isn’t that what being a parent is? Loving your kid no matter what? Seeing the good in them and helping them see it themselves?

When his brother slams the door shut on some car so shiny that Wayne wonders if it’s fresh out of the packet, he knows they’re in for some trouble. 

“Nice car, man,” Eddie whistles from where he’d been lounging on the plastic chairs out the front of the trailer. Clearly the sight of something so drenched in luxury in their neighbourhood makes it so that he just can’t help himself.

Wayne’s brother grunts in that way that he always did when they were younger, like he’d gotten away with something. 

Wayne just watches, then, as his brother nods at the book in Eddie’s hands. “A reader, are you?” he says, a joke in his voice. “What’s this? Always knew there were brains in the family somewhere.”

“It’s ‘Lord of the Rings’,” Eddie replies, uncertain. His gaze flicks to Wayne, who nods. Funny, that the kid was quiet now, he’d been ranting and raving to Wayne about that goddamn book every spare second of the week. “It’s got orcs and wizards and elves in and stuff.”

“Fairytales?” his brother scoffs. It grates on Wayne like a physical thing. “What you been doing to the boy, Wayne? Here.” He turns back to Eddie. “You know me, kid?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“I’m your old man! So you like cars, do you? Want to go for a spin in her?”

“You don’t have to Eddie. Not if you don’t want,” Wayne pipes up then. He knows his boy well enough that he can see the internal war going on behind his eyes. And, hell, it is a nice car. Eddie bites his lip and stares at Wayne, eyes wide, asking permission.

“‘Course he wants to.” And his brother is already walking back to the driver’s side door. He winks at Eddie. “Gotta lot of catching up to do, ain’t we?”

“Hold this for me?” Eddie asks and hands Wayne his book before jogging away.

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when Wayne watches the dust trail behind the car as it leaves the trailer park. He sits out on the porch all afternoon, eyes flashing towards the road every few minutes. It isn’t until almost dusk that it careens into the park once more. 

The passenger door slams violently and Eddie stomps towards him.

“He’s not my dad,” he splutters as he pushes his face against Wayne’s shoulder. Wayne can feel where his cheeks are hot and flushed.

Cradling the back of Eddie’s head with one hand, he mutters gently, “Yeah, son, I know.”

And how had he ever thought that man could be Eddie’s father? No, Eddie may still call him ‘Uncle Wayne’, but they’ve gone well beyond that and both of them know it.

Directing Eddie back inside the trailer, Wayne sends a small nod to his brother where the man is still lingering by his car door, looking faintly murderous. 

Let him try, he thinks. No one’s taking his boy from him now, come hell or high water.

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

[dcxdpdabbles]

Saw that you said you like Wes/Tim. Can you write something about it?

Wes isn't sure what he was expecting when it came to being kidnapped by a man who willingly answers to Joker. It was one thing to have your whole city dragged into the realm of the dead; it was another for a random man dressed like a clown to pop up from a portal and hold you at gunpoint.

Portals in Amity Park were so common that people reacted with an escape plan and a phone app to update traffic delays due to ghost attacks. We had just received the notification at Nasty Buyer when the clown burst into the restaurant with a cackle.

He waved his weapon at the people sitting, who only stared at him in confusion. The man did a little introduction, dramatically twirling in place and bowing after shouting, "Hello, people of Amity. Joker here to give all a much-needed sense of humor!"

Joker was trying to be frightening, which only caused a few people to smile amusingly.

No one was scared of a man with a gun, even when he had everyone get on the ground. They all listened, primarily out of curiosity, as he went on a small ramble of humor and one bad day leading to a lifetime regret; after all, every Amity Park civilian wore a Fenton Force Field.

Some even style the belts and bracelets with their outfits.

It barely held back ghost possession on a good day, but small, fast-moving metal? Bullets bounced right off of them.

(Sometimes Wes was grateful the government didn't take Fenton seriously. He shutters to think how they would use their technology in warfare)

That amusement then turned to caution when Joker revealed he wasn't wearing makeup but was actually that skin tone. He was missing the glow, but suddenly they wondered if the man was a ghost, which made him far more dangerous.

The Joker had walked around his hostages, waving a little box computer over their heads. It beeped slightly higher on some but the one that really set off the machine was Danny.

Because, of course, Phantom would mark high on any readings, even if they didn't know what the Joker was checking for. The clown had laughed madly, dragging Danny to his feet and trying to march him out of the restaurant. Everyone watched with even more curiosity, no one bothering to stop the outsider from taking Danny.

Now, Wes isn't much of a hero; he's the type of guy who will run at the first sign of trouble, but he's also very well aware Danny can't go ghost unless he's alone. Being held hostage and kidnapped meant Danny wouldn't have the chance to slip away to become Phantom.

This is a big problem since Phantom is the town hero. The last time the town hero was out of town, the city got abducted into the death realm, and that really cool arcade was turned to pieces. Phantom only handled ghost-related crimes, but Amity rarely saw any crime, and things like these events span generations.

Wes still heard about Old Man Jankins's car being stolen in the '60s by gossiping women at the food market as if it had happened that morning.

The clown's appearance through the portal meant the local police force wouldn't even attempt to save Danny. They would simply wait for Phantom, thinking the clown was some kind of ghost.

Phantom was not coming because his human side was already there as the victim.

As much as he wished people would make the connection between the two- how can you be so blind? All Danny did was dye his hair and put on colored contacts!- he knew no one else realized that Phantom was literally being taken away. So he had to step in.

He rose from the floor, sprinting as hard as possible at the Clown. Throwing his total weight in a tackle, Wes managed to wrap his arms around the Joker, throwing them through the portal and giving Danny a chance to back away.

He figured Danny would pretend to run away- maybe round the restaurant building to the back where the cameras didn't work and fly back in a second as Phantom. He thought falling through the portal wouldn't be an issue since Phantom would fly after them and rescue him.

Wes was not expecting the damn portal to close before they hit the ground on the other side.

He caught a flash of Danny's panic-green eyes just as it was sealing. The ghost had literally just shown up to the scene to watch him vanish from sight.

"You really messed up, my fun kid," the Joker sneered, dragging Wes to his feet. The strange machine he was waving went off as it got closer to him, causing the clown to stop.

He checked the screen, smile stretching wide at what he saw. "Looks like I did end up with a meta after all."

"Meta? What's a meta?" He asks, not even blinking at the sudden increase of guns being aimed at him. There were more people here wearing similar outfits to the Joker, all that armed to the teeth.

The Joker didn't answer him. Instead, he had his goons drag him into a tube, where they started filling up with some kind of tar. Now, here Wes did panic a little. The Fenton Shield could keep him from being shot or beaten, but it would not help him breathe.

He slammed his hands against the glass, screaming as the tar went up to his chest. Across from him, Joker was smiling like a loon while the scattered people working on some machines and computers monitored his reactions with the detached expression of a scientist conducting an experiment.

That's what I am to them. Wes realizes as the tar reaches his chin. He stands on his toes, tilting his head to get air. An experiment. Why are they doing this? Do they work for the GIW? Why take me? I am nowhere near a ghost.

The horrific sensation of drowning is starting to set in as he tries to gather as much air as he can. There is pressure all around him, but the worst is in his chest. Wes's struggles to get out of the tube increase with far more depression, but the black liquid is now in his eyes, and he fears he won't be able to hold his breath for long.

Nothing is wet darkness for a moment, as the burning in his lungs aches. He feels the tar cover his head, meaning he is running out of time. The sound is mutated, and his movements are sluggish. There is this offering moment where he can't tell which way is up or down, and he thrashes about, trying desperately to find an escape, any escape from the sparkling pain that is spreading from his toes to his forehead.

It feels like his entire being was being pulled apart and put back together again.

Just as he thinks he's going to die here- if he becomes a ghost, he will definitely haunt Danny- that the glass shatters. The tar falls outwards once its containment is broken, dragging a weakened Wes with the flow onto the ground.

He gasps in the air hungrily, only realizing what a dumb idea that was as his lungs protest and seize up. His chest rattles with coughs so extreme that Wes can only curl up into a ball, blinking tears away, trying to breathe.

He feels someone push him onto his side, which helps his throat a little, but the coughing doesn't stop. In fact, it becomes worse once he realizes his whole body is rapidly falling out of control because everything is too much all at once.

Around him, shouting and bangs indicate some chaos has exploded alongside the glass, but Wes can barely see through the pain.

He squits up at a teenager wearing a strange outfit and a little mask over his eyes. The guy is saying something but he can't understand him over all his senses being cracked to overdrive.

Wes has never known the world to be so bright, loud, and big. Everything is causing white hot pain to rest behind his eyes. Noises that he had never heard before are assaulting his ears—a car is jamming somewhere, a baby is crying, someone is singing, machines are humming, someone is grinning coffee beans—and he presses his head to the ground, trying to get it all to stop.

The man says something else urgently, but it's drowned out by the office sound of a bug buzzing too loudly to his left. Wes is not prepared for the teen in red and black to pick him up and fling him over his shoulder.

Wow. He's strong.

He quickly carried Wes out of the building. The basketball player could do nothing but let it happen as he bounced slightly over his bony shoulder.

He just makes out the image of a huge bat fling itself at the screaming Joker before everything goes black. Wes is happily surrounded by the blissful silence of the darkness.

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

When he arrives, he finds himself in a hospital room. Machines are hooked up to his arms, and he's been changed into a gown. Wes is pleased that the world is not so bright or loud anymore as he blinks around the room in a haze.

Did Danny save him? If so, where were his parents? Why did he wake up alone?

Danny would have stayed with him, at the least. The boy always did whenever Phantom rescued anyone, and people whispered about Danny being far too soft-hearted to be the Ghost Hunters' child.

It takes him a moment to sit up.

His body is aching everywhere as if he had done HIT training with Dash during hell week. It takes a few moments to get his muscles to move without the stinging sensation of a bruise, but after struggling, he can fling his legs over the edge.

Trying to stand is terrible, as his legs give out the second he puts weight on them.

He tries to catch himself on the bedside table, but he misses. His hand instead lands on a little tray, sending everything airborne and crashing along with him.

At once, pain flairs up like his body had been tasered - Dash ones brought a tazer to school, and everyone on the team took turns to feel what it was like. It was stupid but they all boasted they could handle the pain. They couldn't.

The door to his room is flung open as Wes cries out, body spamming in agony.

Hands grip his shoulder- sending more waves of torment through his muscles- as they drag him up. The person, helps him back into the bed, the cool sheets a blessing on his burning skin. "We need a nurse!"

"What happened?" He gasps, trying to get his blurry vision to clear. He can't tell who the blob of unrecognizable blur is, and he certainly didn't realize that voice. Wes isn't even sure they are human. "Where am I?"

"It's okay. You're safe. Batman and Red Robin rescued you. You're in the Drake Hostpial's meta ward."

Meta. There was that word again.

"Who..." His voice catches his breath as Wes struggles to get his vocal cords to function. The ache makes it hard to focus on anything. "Who are you?"

"I'm Tim Drake," Tim whispers to him, likely knowing lowering his voice was easier on Wes' ears. Who knew ears could get sore? "Everything will be alright now."

Wes' eyesight is clear enough to finally focus on Tim's face. He breathes a sigh of relief. He's missing his mask and not dressed like a bizarre spandex performer, but he recognizes the teenager who had carried him out of Joker's strange lab.

Danny didn't save him, but he was safe all the same. This is the last time he played hero.

He offers Tim a grateful smile. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"What?"

Wes goes under the darkness again as the door is burst open by a team of medical staff. He misses Tim's expression of shock, having not expected Wes to clock him as the one that carried him out.

How did this meta-trafficking victim recognize him?

[k0juki]

Pleaseee…please write something with ski aggu…we’re starving vro⛩️

He is so fckng fine ❤️😏

Friends don't do that

Ski Aggu x reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner! Not edited!

A/n: little midnight surprise 💙

Wc: 1.2k

---

Being in the same friend group with a person you absolutely adore and can't take your eyes off, is really, really hard. And it's even worse when that person is your best friend, Aggu. He is simply gorgeous.

Sometimes it was hard to watch him interact with so many women and men. They threw themselves at him, but you couldn't blame them. Who wouldn't do that?

"Are you jealous?" You asked, as the unwanted stranger left after Aggu remarked that you didn't want to grab some drinks with that guy. You were at some lame party and this guy was trying to know you a bit, but he didn't stand a chance. There was Aggu to stop that.

"What? Me? No, never." He muttered and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you more into his side. It was strange to see him like that. To keep you by his side all the time. Keeping you to himself, but you didn't mind at all. You were glad that it was you who he wanted beside him and not some random person.

"Hmm, right. So you wouldn't mind if I'll go get something to drink, right?" You knew you caught him here. Maybe he wasn't jealous, but he still didn't want you to leave him. Without other questions you stood up, but before you could go anywhere, Aggu asked you.

"Where are you going?"

"Just to the toilet, don't worry. I'm not going to that weirdo." You loved to mess with him. To rile him up a little.

"Oh, okay."

As you disappeared from their sights, Joost immediately turned to look at his friend and said.

"Man, you're smitten." Joost remarked, smirking. Seeing how his friend was acting around you.

"What are you talking about?" His red face and ears were a sign that he was lying.

Joost knew that. On the other hand, he hoped that he will make a move and told you as soon as possible. If he won't, there will always be someone who will do that.

"C'mon don't pretend, well, at least not in front of me."

Aggu sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand, obviously in distress. He knew he couldn't keep something like that a secret. "Is it that obvious?"

"For me? Yes, it is."

"Shit."

"You gotta tell her. She won't be single forever..." Joost urged, and he was right.

"I know, but what if I'm not her type? Or she'll say something like I wanna stay friends, sorry." This sentence really scared him. He would rather be forever friends with you, then destroying something that could be one-sided.

"She won't. She's literally just as smitten as you are." Joost insisted, trying to calm him down.

But before Aggu could say something, you came back with a smile on your pretty face. You sat back down in your seat next to Aggu. He wrapped his arm back around your shoulders, as it was before.

"What were you guys talking about?" You innocently asked and looked at Aggu, then at Joost and then back at Aggu. Feeling him tense a bit, you frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." He answered with a dry laugh and rubbed his hand on your shoulder in resurance.

You gave him a strange look, but didn't ask more. If he wanted to tell you something, then he would. "Okay...but why are you both acting so weird?"

"We're not." They answered at the same time. Aggu sent a warning look to Joost. Telling him to stop it, immediately.

You spent the rest of the evening in Aggu's and Joost's company. But the longer you stayed here, in the center of the party, the more you wanted to go home. It was getting too noisy and you didn't want your head hurt that much the next day.

"Are you okay?" Aggu asked, realizing how quiet you became.

"Yeah, my head just hurts a bit from that loud music."

"Do you wanna go home?"

You just nodded your head yes. Feeling tired all of sudden.

Aggu didn't need to be told twice. You and him said your goodbyes to Joost and left.

You knew he wouldn't leave you alone, so there wasn't even a point in persuading him to stay at the party.

"It was fine. I'm glad I went." You told him, sending a smile his way. He returned the gesture, sending you one right back.

"Yeah, me too."

Normally you didn't mind that awkward silence, but this time it felt different. Like both of you wanted to say something, but neither of you could bring yourself to say it.

"Do you, perhaps, want to sleep over at my place tonight?" Aggu asked and reached his hand for yours.

"Yeah, I would like that." You answered him and took his hand. Many times before you had slept over his place. Because that's what best friends do, right? They are everywhere together. They do everything together.

---

"I prepared some clothes for you to change into."

"Thank you Aggu." You took his clothes from him and made your way to the bathroom to shower and then change.

He gave you one of his boxers and white shirt with Bambi on it. It is one of your favourite ones, and he knows that. It was too big for you, but you really didn't mind, it smelled like him. Maybe that's why you liked it that much.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and thought how you actually ended up here. In this situation.

Sighing, you left the bathroom and noticed that Aggu was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his phone. When he noticed you, he put his phone down. He had to say that he loved to see you in nothing, but his clothes.

"Aggu." You said with a small smile as he kept on staring.

"Aggu." Still nothing, but you could see how his mouth was turning up to a little smile.

"Aggu." You looked down on your feet, feeling hot in the face as he was staring at you.

"I love when you say my name."

You raised your head and made eye contact with him. He was looking right into your eyes.

"You do?"

"I do."

He stood up and made his way towards you. Still holding eye contact, neither of you breaking it. Stepping closer, he carefully put his hands on your hips and said.

"Friends don't look at each other like we do..."

"And we are friends?" You asked, looking into his eyes.

"I'm hoping to be something more..." Aggu admitted. Waiting for your protests, but you didn't say anything.

You put your left hand on the back of his neck, softly running your fingers through the ends of his hair and other hand on his jaw. Leaning closer to him, but keeping safe distance if he didn't want to kiss you back.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked and licket his lips. His focus full on you. "One little kiss won't change our friendship, right?"

"Yeah, you're probably right."

He leaned in and kissed you.

His hands that were on your hips pulled you closer. He pushed you against the cold wall behind you, making goosebumps swarm all over your body. He traced your curves with his hands as he deepened the kiss, nibbling on your lower lip. Your hands gripped the back of his head, as his hands squeezed and teased you, as you moaned into the kiss.

You break apart after a few seconds. A smile on both of your faces as you breathed.

"I love that taste of you." Aggu admitted and dipped his head lower and started kissing your neck. "I love it.”

---

Don't copy or translate my work!

[ohnococo]

Birthday Meal | Sukuna x Reader

A quick little something for birthday babe @ehnonymousse ! Thank you for the support and kindness 🫶🏼

Warnings: public, pantyhose, clothes ripping, fem bodied reader (dressed femme but no pronouns mentioned), implied oral sex (reader receiving

Pantyhose just do something to Sukuna. Makes him a little reckless with you, a little out of his mind too. Maybe it’s the way they cling to and outline your legs, giving you a faux sense of security when you wear your shortest dress. Maybe it’s the sheerness of them, distorting the natural hue of your skin enough to let you know you’re technically covered, but not really leaving anything to the imagination. Or maybe it’s the way your soft skin is pushed out a little when they’re torn, hastily ripped holes leaving creases in the plushness of your thighs.

You think it’s a bit of all of that, really. From the way Sukuna’s lips parted and brows flicked upward for just a moment as he lets out the smallest, ‘Ah’ when you enter the restaurant he was already waiting for you in.

‘Ah, you do take these little date nights seriously, don’t you?’

‘Ah, I suppose the cost of one drink alone in a place like this will cover whatever you spent buying more of those.’

‘Ah, you couldn’t wait until we got home for me to touch you, then?’

All of these thoughts are broadcast clearly in just the scan of your body he gives you as you approach. Then his actions tease you with even more of his thoughts as he stands to greet you, bypassing your awaiting lips to kiss at the side of your neck, whispering your warning for tonight into your ear.

“We won’t be making it to dessert.”

Not that you thought you would. Not that you minded. Not when his appetizer went untouched as he becomes much more focused on groping and squeezing at your thighs through the smooth hosiery. Not when both of your mains are left to grow cold when he finally moves his fingers to pet between your thighs.

Your waiter stops by again and again, asking if anything is wrong, if you want anything about your meal changed—because it’s mighty expensive to be ignored like this. Eventually Sukuna grows tired of the interruptions, tired of anything between his skin and yours too.

To the bathroom it is, where he doesn’t have to remind himself to be considerate of your silly little need to not expose yourself in front of a room of strangers. Instead he can focus on you properly, settling you on the sink, legs spread, spit soaking your pantyhose as he rubs his face against your thighs, biting and licking and sucking until you’re shaking, so wet and ready for him that you’re starting to care a lot less about how much noise you’re making in such a nice place.

By the time he rips your pantyhose, snapping at the torn edges and watching your thighs jump, the feel of having your pussy exposed to the air is enough to make you moan aloud.

Never mind when he buries his face where he’s wanted it most since the moment you walked in to this place.

[cherryobx]

Turn up the music okay any fletcher song for rafe but these two together undrunk and bitter

Undrunk and Bitter

a/n: love both of these songs sm!

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: you and Rafe broke up but some feelings still linger

warnings: suggestive themes, language

wc: 1.4k

How long will it take for your feelings for someone to go away? How long does it take to stop loving someone? Even if that someone is so bad for you.

You and Rafe broke up almost a month ago and you feel like every day is worse than the last. At first it was easy. You cried, got all of your sadness and anger out of your body. But then arrived the longing and loneliness. 

You miss him. You miss waking up in the same bed, his arms around you. You miss going on dates with him. You miss him giving a ride on the back of his bike. The little things.

But the relationship between you ate you up inside. You loved him but also knew you deserved better. You deserved more. That’s why you broke up with him. It was probably the hardest decision of your life. Because where do you find the strength to let go of the person you love more than anyone else?

“I can’t watch you mope around anymore.” Your friend Grace sits at the edge of your bed where you’re currently lying, staring at the ceiling deep in thought.

“Top’s throwing a party tonight. We’re going.”

You know you don’t have the energy to go but you also don’t have the energy to argue with her. And that’s how you end up at Topper’s house a couple of hours later.

You know he’s here even though you haven’t spotted him yet. Rafe. You can feel it in your bones. 

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you tell Grace who’s engaged in a conversation with Kelce about who knows what and she dismisses you with a wave. 

You sigh and try to find your way to the kitchen. Passing the living room, you see Rafe on the couch with a pretty girl on his lap. His eyes meet yours for a second before someone addresses him and he turns his attention to them.

Yeah, you definitely need a drink now.

How is it so easy for him to move on? It makes you wonder how much you really meant for him. How much the relationship and later the break up affected him. Did you really mean so little to him?

You finally find the kitchen. The counters are filled with various types of alcohol ranging from light stuff to hard liquor. You head for the latter. You down shot after shot and soon enough you feel your head start slowly spinning and your worries floating away. It feels nice. It helps you forget about him for a second.

“Rough night?”

You turn around and some guy is leaning against the counter, a red solo cup in his hand.

“You could say that.” You give him, what must be, a sad smile.

“What’s got you drinking like that?” he asks as he scoots closer and takes a sip of his drink.

“Life.”

“Fair enough.” He laughs. “I’m Trevor.”

“To you, Trevor.” You salute him and take another shot, grimacing at the taste of vodka in your mouth. He offers his drink as a chaser and you happily take it and down that too.

You introduce yourself to him and the conversation starts flowing. The alcohol keeps flowing too. Soon enough his hands are everywhere at once and you’re making out in the secluded hallway.

It feels nice. You feel wanted again. You haven’t felt that way in a while and crave it more than anything. There’s a little voice in the back of your head that keeps nagging at you that it’s wrong to use someone to get over Rafe. But it feels so good and you can’t help but want more.

“Y/n.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Rafe.

You break away from Trevor and see him approaching. His fists are balled and even the way he walks indicates that he’s angry.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he snarls.

“But-”

“Step the fuck back!” 

Trevor backs up with his hands raised in defeat.

“Walk away.” Rafe instructs him and he doesn’t argue. So much for that.

“Are you okay?” he asks almost softly, his hands on your upper arms on both sides of your body.

You shove him away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? You’re the one hooking up with strangers in the fucking hallway.”

“So? You can swap spit with girls all night but I can’t do the same?”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? We broke up, Rafe. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“You’re drunk. You’re not thinking clearly. Let me take you home.” He takes a step closer but you take one simultaneously back.

“Fuck you. I’m thinking more clearly than I have in a while. Why can you move on but I can’t?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not moving on anywhere with anyone.”

“You’re trying to tell me you didn’t fuck that pretty thing before you came here? Nice try. I need space from you, Rafe.”

“First of all, I haven’t fucked anyone since we broke up. Second, I’m taking you home.”

“Yeah right. I don’t believe you. She was all over you.”

“Like that guy was all over you?”

You shut your mouth. “That’s none of your business.”

“It is. You’re still my business whether you like it or not. Now, you can come with me willingly or I will physically drag you out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” You cross your arms on your chest and stand your ground, which in a literal sense is difficult because you’re too drunk for your own good.

“Stop being difficult.”

“No.”

He sighs before he makes a quick move of picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You’re like a sack of flour. Absolutely helpless and pathetic.

“Put me down!” You hit his back with your fists but that does nothing to help. He’s unaffected.

“I’m gonna throw up all over you,” you threaten. It’s actually a real possibility due to the fact that your head is furiously spinning and you can’t make your left from your right.

“I don’t care.”

People stare at him weird as he carries you through the house, while you’re kicking and screaming, to the driveway where his car is parked.

Very surprisingly to everyone around Rafe, he’s sober tonight. He didn’t plan on staying sober but when he saw you enter Topper’s yard through the living room window his heart made the decision for him.

He drops you in the passenger seat and buckles you up before walking to the driver’s side and hopping into the seat. In the few seconds he was outside the car you managed to unbuckle your seatbelt but he pulls it across your body again and locks the doors so you can’t escape. 

“I hate you,” you snarl at him and cross your arms once again, angling your body towards the car door on your side.

“Don’t care.” He backs out of the driveway and starts driving towards your house.

You rest your head against the cool window of the car and stare at the passing scenery. 

“Why do you care so much?” you ask.

“What?” He looks at you for a second before turning his gaze back towards the road ahead of him.

“Why do you care?”

“About what?”

“About me. We broke up and here you are, taking me home after cockblocking me.”

He scoffs. “I can’t stop caring about you overnight, Y/N. That’s not how it works. And even if I wanted to I couldn’t.”

“You looked like you could. Plenty of girls throwing themselves at you. Take your pick.”

“I don’t want any of them.”

The rest of the ride passes in silence. He helps you out of the car, into your house and to your bedroom. He even tucks you under the covers. 

“Why don’t you want other girls? You can, you know.” 

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead which makes you instantly close your eyes for a moment of bliss. For a second, you’re thrown back in time when you were together and he used to kiss you goodnight every single night, even if it meant driving over from his place to yours to do so.

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to love me again.”

You open your mouth but no words come out.

“If you remember this in the morning, text me. We’ll talk.” With that he stands up, turns off the lights and leaves, softly closing the door after him.

[cheri-2047]

Helloooo do you write for aventurine from hsr?

If you do, would it be possible to request an aventurine x gn reader where he tries to comfort the reader who has religious trauma? If that's a little too complicated then something like aven trying to comfort the reader when they were suddenly reminded about their trauma from parents.

I'm really just desperately trying to make myself feel better 😭 anw the decision is still up to you <3 I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope that you stay safe and healthy, take care!! 💞💐

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭 I LOST MOTIVATION TO WRITE ANYTHING 😞😞 I’d love to write this for you but I’m not so sure on what religious trauma is so I focused on reader getting triggered by their parents instead, I hope that’s okay. Please don’t hesitate to comment if I mischaracterized him, this is based off what I see online since I don’t play hsr, thank you!

Aventurine comfort:

TAGS: slight mentions of self harm, hair pulling (out of stress) angst, fluff and comfort at the end

CHARACTERS: Aventurine

You were on your way home after meeting up with your parents. It’s been awhile since you last saw them so you thought you’d pay them a visit.

They welcomed you with open arms and were very glad that you came over, your mother excitedly sharing new stories of what’s happened while you moved away and your father just simply listening to you two.

Everything was smooth sailing, you had fun with them, sharing laughs and all until it all went down the drain.

“haha…” you chuckled it off. You hated hearing about the incident that had happened. Your parents brushed it off by now as a joke, but to you it was anything BUT that.

you continued to catch up to them, holding up a smile to get away the memories that ran through your brain.

stop stop stop

You clenched your hands tightly, continuing to laugh along with the “jokes” your parents made. You couldn’t stop thinking about it now, everything that happened, everything that you worked so hard to forget, all of it GONE just because of a few simple words.

“I might be home a bit late sweetheart, please don’t stay up waiting for me. Love you”

Your phone buzzed, a message from your boyfriend, Aventurine.

perfect.

You took this to your advantage, deciding it was a good excuse.

“Ah I need to go home, sorry mama, urgent things at work.”

You made a white lie. You knew it was a bad thing to lie, it would make you a sinner, but you would do anything right now to get away from that so called ‘home’

“I hope you visit again, we love you”

Your father kissed you on the forehead, before both waving off.

You quickly shuffled to your car, driving as fast as you can away from your parent’s home. You were thankful for your boyfriend’s text, not only can you have alone time but you also were able to lie with getting home.

You drove faster, the music louder, anything to try and get the flooding memories away. You clenched the wheel tightly, taking rough turns, completely ignoring your surroundings.

shut up shut up shut up shut up

please.

You reached your home, running to your bedroom, your safe place.

You opened the television, had your snacks around you and all but for some reason, nothing would work. The thoughts still lingered at the back of your mind, the unspoken memories, the things you’ve tried to hard to forget.

Little did you know, you ended up spiraling. Your eyes on the TV, your mind elsewhere. It all came back too quickly, too much for you, the way you were treated, the rules you were forced to have, the life you so desperately wanted to escape, and it felt like you were back. “…y/n… y/n? Hey hey-“

you got started by the sound, only to realize you had been pulling your hair a lot,

“ah- y-you’re back earl-“

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, Aventurine pulled your hands away from your hair,

“Shh, shh… there there”

he rubbed his hand on your back, you leaned into his touch, before looking down to see blood on your fingernails. “What happened?”

Aventurine pulled away, cupping your cheeks and rubbing your hand, careful not to touch the skin you picked.

You didn’t even notice it, but you were crying. You had tears run down your face as if your eyes were waterfalls.

“I visited my parents today”

“mh…did they do anything?”

“they just…mentioned something and I got triggered and started spiraling I guess…”

as you spoke, aventurine started to wrap some bandages around your fingers.

“What did they say?”

(cutting this part off here so you can like…. Explain to him ykyk. He doesn’t know much of your trauma so u explain that you went through that before)

“Oh sweetheart…”

he wiped your tears and kissed you on the cheek, before hugging you and hurrying your face into the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know that’s ever happened, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to remember…”

he frowned and pulled you closer,

“I’m sorry…. If you’re up to going to your parents again, I’ll be here to accompany you. If you don’t, then that’s alright, I understand.”

he kisses the top of your head multiple times, hoping to sooth you with his affection.

He intertwined his hand with yours as he continues to speak reassuring words. “I am always here for you, alright my dearest? If you feel triggered by anything ever again, please don’t hesitate to tell me. I’m never ‘too busy’ for you or any of that. I love you”

you smile as he tells you how he has your back and how he will never leave and swear to always protect you. As you stop crying, he starts to clean up the snacks you left and comes back with more of your favorite foods.

“I got some before I left work”

he chuckles, lying next to you on the bed as you two stayed in the comfort of each others arms.

“I love you, I always will and I will never stop.”

He presses a kiss to your lips, pulling away to see your smile, which makes him smile as well.

A/N: OKAY… so I tried to make it like him as much as I could, I think he’s the type to gen take things seriously in scenarios like this, and the part where he like… pushes(?) your head to his neck for comfort, that means a lot since I hc him to not like being touched there or anyone touching him there either, so yeah. Thanks for requesting and I hope this is ok!! Comments are appreciated (for tips, if I mischaracterized or just to say hi) I hope ure okay dude, if you want more of these feel free to request

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Heated

Summary: tommy gets into a heated argument with his wife y/n. in result, y/n gives him the silent treatment. he wants her to forgive him? he must grovel. on his knees.

Tommy shelby x wife female reader

Tommy slammed the door behind him, the echo reverberating through the spacious halls of Arrow House. The tension was thick in the air, and his wife, Y/N, stood in the center of the room, her arms crossed and eyes blazing with anger.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” Tommy demanded, his voice barely containing his frustration.

“Talk?” she snapped, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “All you ever do is talk, Tommy. And it’s always about you. Your business, your problems, your bloody empire.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “Everything I do, I do for us. For our family. You know that.”

“Do I?” Y/N shot back, her voice rising. “Because it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like we’re just pawns in your endless game.”

Tommy clenched his fists, trying to keep his temper in check. “That’s not fair, Y/N. You know the pressure I’m under. The enemies we have. I’m doing my best to protect us.”

Y/N laughed bitterly. “Protect us? By pushing everyone away? By turning our home into a fortress? This isn’t a family, Tommy. It’s a prison.”

The words stung, more than Tommy cared to admit. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.

Y/N didn’t answer. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, a mixture of anger and desperation swirling inside him.

The silent treatment began immediately. Y/N went about her days, caring for their children, managing the household, but never once did she acknowledge Tommy’s presence. She moved like a ghost, her silence a constant reminder of their unresolved conflict.

At first, Tommy tried to give her space, hoping she would cool down and they could talk things out. But as the days turned into a week, his patience wore thin. He attempted everything he could think of to get her attention. Apologies, flowers, even jewelry—none of it made a difference. Y/N accepted his offerings with a blank expression, placing them aside without a word.

One night, Tommy found himself sitting alone in the parlor, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The silence was deafening, driving him to the edge of his sanity. He couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly and marched upstairs to their bedroom, where Y/N was getting ready for bed.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice rough with frustration. “This has to stop. I can’t stand this silence. Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”

She glanced at him through the mirror, her expression unreadable. “What I want, Tommy, is for you to understand. To really understand what it means to be a husband and a father. Not just a leader.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I’m trying, Y/N. I really am. But you shutting me out like this—it’s killing me.”

For a moment, Y/N’s eyes softened, but she quickly looked away. “You need to show me, Tommy. Words aren’t enough. I need to see that you’re willing to change, to put us first.”

Tommy sighed, feeling the weight of her words. He approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I will, Y/N. I promise you, I’ll make it right.”

She finally looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and skepticism. “Actions, Tommy. Not promises.”

With that, she climbed into bed, turning her back to him. Tommy stood there for a moment, watching her, a newfound determination settling in his chest. He realized that if he wanted to win her back, he would have to do more than just speak. He would have to change, to prove that their family meant more to him than any empire.

As he left the room, he vowed to himself that he would earn her trust again, not with grand gestures or empty words, but with genuine actions. And this time, he would make sure Y/N knew she was the most important part of his life.

Tommy Shelby stood in the dimly lit hallway, his mind racing with ideas on how to break through the wall of silence that had come between him and Y/N. He needed to show her that she was the center of his world, more important than any business deal or gang rivalry. As the thought solidified in his mind, a plan began to take shape.

The next day, Tommy put his plan into action. He made a few discreet phone calls, ensuring that everything would be perfect. By late afternoon, he had transformed a secluded spot in their expansive garden into a romantic picnic setting. A soft blanket was spread out under a large oak tree, adorned with pillows for comfort. Lanterns hung from the branches, casting a warm, inviting glow as the sun began to set.

Tommy had spent the day in the kitchen, a rare sight indeed, preparing all of Y/N’s favorite foods. There was a selection of fresh bread, cheeses, and fruits, along with her preferred wine. He even managed to bake a chocolate cake, her favorite dessert.

As evening fell, Tommy found Y/N in the sitting room, reading a book. He approached her quietly, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“Y/N,” he said softly, holding out his hand. “I’ve prepared something for you. Will you come with me?”

She looked up from her book, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of skepticism. After a moment, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her outside. As they approached the picnic setup, Y/N’s expression softened, a flicker of surprise and appreciation in her eyes.

“Tommy, this is…” she began, her voice trailing off as she took in the scene.

“I wanted to show you how much you mean to me,” he said, his voice sincere. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right.”

They sat down on the blanket, and Tommy served her the food he had prepared. They ate in comfortable silence at first, the tension gradually easing as the evening progressed. As the stars began to twinkle above them, Tommy poured them each a glass of wine.

“This is lovely, Tommy,” Y/N said softly, her earlier anger seeming to melt away.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, reaching out to take her hand. “I wanted tonight to be special. For us.”

After they finished their meal, Tommy led Y/N back to the house, where he had one final surprise waiting. He guided her to the bathroom, where a hot bath was ready, the room filled with the soothing scent of lavender.

“I thought you might like to relax,” he said, his voice low and tender.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes glistening with emotion. “Thank you, Tommy. This means a lot to me.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

As she settled into the bath, Tommy waited patiently, giving her the space she needed. After a while, Y/N called out to him, and he entered the bathroom once more.

“Join me,” she whispered, her voice husky.

Tommy’s heart raced as he quickly undressed and slipped into the warm water behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. The feel of her body against his, the scent of lavender filling the air, it was intoxicating.

“I’ve missed you,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear.

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Their lips met in a slow, passionate kiss, a spark igniting between them. Tommy’s hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin. Y/N responded eagerly, her hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer.

As the water sloshed around them, their kisses grew more fervent, their need for each other undeniable. Tommy’s hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them gently, eliciting soft moans from Y/N. He moved lower, his fingers teasing her, drawing out gasps of pleasure.

“Tommy,” she breathed, her voice a mix of longing and urgency.

He shifted, positioning himself between her legs, their bodies aligning perfectly. With a deep, shared breath, he entered her slowly, savoring the sensation. They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, the heat and intensity building with each thrust.

The bathroom echoed with their shared moans and the sound of water splashing, their bodies entwined in a dance of passion and love. Tommy’s lips never left her skin, trailing kisses along her neck, her shoulders, whispering words of love and devotion.

As they reached the peak of their pleasure, their cries mingled, a harmonious blend of ecstasy. Collapsing into each other’s arms, they remained in the warm water, their breaths heavy, hearts pounding.

Tommy gently stroked Y/N’s hair, his lips brushing against her ear. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything in this world.”

She turned to face him, her eyes filled with love and a promise of forgiveness. “I love you too, Tommy. And I believe you. Let’s work on this together.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the bath and the glow of their rekindled love, Tommy knew they had turned a corner. They would face the future together, stronger than ever.

[coloursflyaway]

I don't remember how (because I couldn't find an ask, so if I just misplaced that, I'm sorry), but some time ago @itsablueberrycow sent this little prompt and I had a bit of time so I thought I'd give it a shot!

Edwin and cat king have been spending a lot of time together which really pisses off Charles because that’s supposed to be his best friend (totally not bc he’s jealous and in love with him) and eventually after having to hear all about what Edwin and Cat king have been doing together Charles just looses it and is all, what does he have that I don’t, and ends up kissing him or confessing feelings or something because he’s so jealous he just can’t take it anymore.

Read on AO3

___

“I don’t think you should spend so much time with that guy”, Charles tells Edwin as he saunters back into the agency, looking… well, looking like he always looks, but that doesn’t matter, because Charles’ teeth are already on edge. Because Edwin has been spending time with the fucking Cat King again.

By now, Charles has met the man three times, and every single time, he likes him less.

“Don’t be like that, Charles”, Edwin all but admonishes him, and oh, he hates that, too. He’s going to be like this whenever he feels like it, actually. “He’s quite an agreeable chap once you have gotten to know him, even if some of his attempts at humour might be rather crude. If you gave him a chance, I think you might end up rather fond of him.”

“Well, I don’t want to get to know him”, Charles shoots back and means it; he doesn’t need to know anything more about this git, with his stupid luscious hair and his outrageous clothes and mysterious best-friend-stealing-powers. Charles knows just enough. Too much, even. “I just want you to know less about him, too.”

The words feel wrong as they stumble off his lips, like they reveal too much, even if Charles isn’t sure what there is to reveal: it’s quite clear, isn’t it? Edwin has been spending a frankly outrageous amount of time away from the agency, and through that, away from Charles, and Charles doesn’t like it. At all.

And yet, it stops Edwin dead in his tracks too, one arm raised to slide the bow tie from his neck, and have his fingers always been this long, this elegant? All of a sudden, Charles isn’t sure anymore.

“Charles”, Edwin starts, and he isn’t admonishing anymore, instead he sounds like he isn’t sure of what he is saying, which is a first. He comes closer to where Charles is sitting, step by cautious step, and something about Edwin’s stance, his expression makes Charles get up, like this is something he should be at Edwin’s level for. “Are you… jealous?”

It’s.

Well.

It’s a thought.

Charles turns it around in his mind, looks at its edges and its curves, its imperfections and its flaws, and doesn’t find a lot of them. It feels unfamiliar, sure, but it doesn’t feel wrong.

Curious. Definitely worth being investigated.

Edwin is standing so close that Charles could reach out and touch him, and Charles cocks his head, imagines doing so. Imagines his hands in Edwin’s, their spectral breath mingling, their lips touching, and yes, Charles misses kissing, but does he miss kissing Edwin?

He hasn’t had time to think about it too much yet, with moving back to London and new cases and Edwin spending far too much time with that menace of a Cat King.

But looking at Edwin’s lips and thinking of him on the steps to Hell, looking up at Charles so earnestly, with so much unnecessary anguish, he thinks, yes.

Even if he has never done it before, or maybe because of it, he might miss kissing Edwin quite a lot.

“What if I am?”, Charles asks, and it sounds like a challenge; maybe it is supposed to be one.

Edwin sucks in a breath, and for a moment, his eyes drop to Charles’s lips and that sends a jolt through him that feels like electricity, feels like heat, feels like the affection he has always had for Edwin, just a little more of it.

“In that case”, Edwin says, and he sounds like he is still reaching for the words, like they are hard to grasp or maybe just hard to keep, or say out loud. “Why don’t you do something about it?”

It’s the most un-Edwin thing to say, and Charles almost feels himself gasping at it; the heat is back, and so is the electricity, so is, most of all, the bone-crushing love he has for this impossible boy with his perfect hair and his pink lips and the mind and the wit and the compassion that Charles has loved ever since he met Edwin, cold and scared and dying.

“You want me to?”, Charles asks, and the bravado drops from Edwin’s shoulder like a blanket he doesn’t need any longer, because he is warm already, like a coat he has outgrown. It makes it better, because this is the Edwin he knows, and in the end, that’s the Edwin he wants to kiss the most.

“If you are sure about it”, Edwin replies, and there is a question in his voice he doesn’t speak out-loud; Charles hears it anyway. I want this, if you want it too. If you will want it tomorrow and in a decade and in a century, then I want it more than life itself.

“Yeah”, Charles says, and in that moment knows he is, knows that he will be sure about it tomorrow and in a decade and in a century. “I am.”

And then, he does something about it, even before Edwin can say another word, have another thought; he leans in and kisses Edwin, kisses the sigh and the speech and the doubt right off Edwin’s lips, and kisses on them the electricity and the warmth and the affection instead.

And finds out he was right; he’s missed this, has missed this even before he knew what missing it would feel like.

[suskz]

Hi pretty!! Can i request something about seungmin or lee know being a dilf luv u!!

pairing: dad!Minho x fem!Reader

t/w: fluff ; smut ; single dad Minho ; babysitter reader ; reader is an adult ; oral (m!rec) ; piv sex.

w/c: around 2.5k

a/n: please dilf Minho is so 😵‍💫 my brain said SEX SEX SEX but my heart wanted more. I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Sometimes you think about how it could have happened, if it had to happen, and if all of this is wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a handsome man. He’s mature, responsible, and so, so sweet.

But you wonder if all of this is really necessary, as your phone rings inside your bag on the chair.

You both stop your movements, and your eyes meet again. It’s really embarrassing to be interrupted at this point.

His grip on your hair doesn’t change, “Do you want to answer?” He asks only out of politeness, because he doesn’t really want you to answer. He wants you to stay on your knees and let him continue without interruptions because damn, your mouth feels so good around him and he just can’t get enough of it.

You think about it for a few seconds, but the answer is already written in your eyes.

You shake your head without even taking his cock out of your mouth, and the sight is so hot that he moans just from that.

“You’re unreal.” His hand resumes guiding the movements of your head, “You look fucking gorgeous with your mouth full.”

You squeeze your legs together at the praise and don’t suppress the moan that his words elicit because you know it sends vibrations to his cock that drive him crazy.

That’s why his hips buck hard into your mouth, pushing his cock deeper and making you choke around it for a moment.

He stops, “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

You shake your head no and start moving it again on your own, back and forth, letting him know that you’re fine and want to continue.

“Such a good girl.” His hand holds your head still as his hips begin to move quickly, “Taking cock so well,” he’s no longer looking into your eyes; he’s watching the spot where his cock enters and exits your mouth now, “Like you were— made for it.”

His breathing has sped up again. Your phone has stopped ringing, and now the only sounds you can hear are his soft breaths and moans.

The tears forming in your eyes make them shiny. Your face is probably a mess, but what’s important is that he feels good inside your warm mouth.

And he does, because his hips start to stutter erratically.

It takes just one look at your face and he’s throwing his head back, urgently pulling his cock out of your mouth, stroking himself hard and fast through his climax.

You feel a bit disappointed, honestly, because you really wanted him to come inside your mouth, but you don’t complain when you feel the spurts of his hot cum land on your face. Some on your cheeks, some over your nose, even on your eyelashes and your still-outstretched tongue.

You didn’t even have time to close your mouth before he came, but it’s fine. At least you tasted it a little.

“Wait, don’t open your eyes.” You do as you’re told and feel him taking something. His hand delicately takes your chin to lift your face, and with a tissue, he wipes the com from your eyes so you can open them again without anything getting in.

You thank him as you sit on the bed next to him, taking the tissue he hands you to clean the rest of your face.

And you look at yourself in the mirror when you’re in front of the bathroom sink and feel something weighing on you. Your mind is empty, there are no thoughts bothering you, yet there’s something that makes you feel bad.

But everything gets better when you return to him and look at him. He’s so handsome, even as he does something as simple as gathering some papers into his work folder.

He glances up at you, “Do you need something?”

“Uh- no, just- I wanted to take Eunji to the park today, is that okay?” Yes, it is okay, it’s fine, it’s always fine if it’s with you, but you don’t know what else to come up with.

He chuckles, perhaps amused by the silliness of your question, “Of course, there’s no problem, you already know.”

And soon you part ways. He rushes to work, you rush to pick up the little girl from school.

His child. The daughter of the man you just gave a blowjob to. The daughter of the single man you’ve maybe gotten a little too close to in these past few months, and who might almost be your father’s age. But it’s okay like this.

—

"Can I taste yours?" Eunji looks at you with those puppy eyes that you can't say no to. She knows it and takes advantage of it, little brat.

Her eyes light up as she tastes your ice cream. She lowers her eyes to hers with a sad expression, "Yours is so good."

You roll your eyes at her unspoken but obvious request, "Want to swap?"

She looks at you with sparkling eyes and nods eagerly.

You smile sweetly at her, and it's at this moment that your phone vibrates in your pocket.

It's Minho.

You're confused by his message until you hear Eunji's voice and see her getting up, "There's daddy!" You turn your head in the direction she started running, and you see him, waiting for her with open arms.

He has such an affectionate, serene, and sincere smile as he picks her up and spins her a couple of times in his arms —gently, mindful of the ice cream she holds— that you can't take your eyes off them. And you can't help the way your heart melts at the sight and a smile forms on your lips.

You see him lick her ice cream and see them talking, but you don't understand what they're saying.

Then it's like he remembers your presence and turns to look at you. You watch as he approaches you, and you stand up.

“Come join us too, Y/n! Group hug!” Eunji’s words freeze you in place amidst the white flowers of the field, and even Minho’s shoulders seem to stiffen.

It all happens so quickly though. It has to happen quickly. Because there’s nothing wrong with hugging after everything you’ve done together. It should be normal, right? It should be natural for the two of you.

Yet you feel hesitant, and Minho seems slightly embarrassed. It’s just new. It’s strange to say, but it is. Many things have happened between the two of you, but never this.

You try not to think about it as you accept his invitation and position yourself between his arms, wrapping your arms around him and the little girl.

You try not to think about how this is the first time you’re hugging him and might be the last, as you unconsciously melt into his embrace and savor the moment for as long as it lasts.

And of course, sooner or later you have to let go.

“Why are you here at this hour?” You try to sound as normal as possible despite the slight —not so slight— discomfort.

“I didn’t quite understand it myself, but they let me go earlier.” He, on the other hand, shrugs and seems to be fine.

“Then Y/n can come home with us, and we can all be together!” The little girl, still in her father’s arms, cheers happily.

Minho chuckles, “She’ll have things to do too, don’t you think?” Then he turns to you, “You can leave early today.”

Actually, you would have preferred Eunji’s proposal, but you’re forced to go along with Minho’s.

The girl rests her head on her father’s shoulder and sighs sadly.

You and Minho look at each other, then he looks at her, “What’s wrong?” He asks her sweetly.

“I wanted Y/n to stay with us,” she says, her voice trembling as if on the verge of tears, which she isn’t.

“I think Y/n would prefer to go home now, she must be tired.”

She sniffs, “Can she come for dinner at least?”

Minho seems to consider it. Oh, how he would enthusiastically say yes if he could, if only it didn’t seem weird.

Instead, he looks at you, the question already written in his eyes, “Would you like to? No pressure.”

Yet you feel the pressure anyway, from the weight of both their gazes, waiting for your response.

And so, a few hours later, you find yourself in front of Minho’s apartment door, dressed in your black shorts, chosen because of the heat.

When the door opens, you are greeted by a warm smile from Minho, holding a wooden spoon, and a hug from Eunji. Moments later, you’re in the kitchen, standing behind him as he moves around the stove expertly, and you feel so useless.

“I’d like to help, but I’d probably burn everything.”

There’s something good in this, because it makes him chuckle. “No problem,” he replies calmly, “I’m almost done anyway.”

“I want to be useful though.”

He turns towards you and raises an eyebrow, “Is it really you who’s saying that?”

Your cheeks tinge with a slight blush. You try to be helpful and he teases you like this.

“Sorry for trying to be useful once in a while.” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

He grins and turns back, “You can set the table while I finish.”

“It’ll be done!” you say, “By the way, that apron suits you really well.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised, then wrinkles his nose, “It makes me look like a cleaning lady or something; at least that’s what Eunji says.”

You laugh at his words, “Eunji is just a kid,” you reassure him. “I think it makes you look hot.” you add in a slightly lower voice.

Your eyes linger on him for just a second, but you swear you see his ears start to darken.

—

Dinner goes well, with a warm atmosphere and calm conversation.

Afterward, it’s Eunji who decides the plans. After all, you are there specifically for her. Or rather, at her request.

Time passes without you even noticing. Between board games and stories told by the little girl, you and Minho manage to find time to talk just between yourselves.

He holds back laughter while telling you about that time Jeongin, whoever he is, fell into a manhole, and his eyes sparkle as you talk about the saga you just finished watching.

When you finally glance at the clock, you regret not paying more attention.

You quickly get up, but Minho stops you, “Wait,” you freeze in your tracks, “It’s really too late, it would be dangerous to go out at this hour.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. He doesn’t want you to leave because he’s worried about you. And he doesn’t want you to leave because it’s a chance for him, a chance to spend precious time with you that he can’t let slip away now that it’s presented to him. 

“I don’t want to be a burden-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, “You won’t be a burden, I’m the one offering you to stay.” His voice is firm, and faced with his eyes so serious and determined, you agree to spend the night there.

After putting Eunji to bed, Minho quietly exits her room and finds himself facing you. You look into each other’s eyes, irises like chained together, and you smile at each other, amidst sentences and words kept hidden.

He prepares a space for you to sleep on the couch, and eventually, you both sit there, side by side.

“Eunji is really fond of you,” Minho says, looking down at his hands, “I think she sees in you something that I can’t be.” He lifts his eyes, meeting yours, understanding.

“You’re already enough for her; I’m just an addition.”

“You’re not an addition; you’re important to her.” He insists. And to me, he wants to add, but knows he can’t say that.

And then the unexpected happens. You don’t know who makes the first move, who leans in first, but it doesn’t matter when his lips are on yours, in a sweet kiss. A loving kiss ruined by wandering hands that force it to deepen.

But, fuck, you’d ruin it a thousand times over if it meant finding yourself beneath him every time, with his cock thrusting in and out of you in a needy, perhaps somewhat desperate way.

And you’re so wet that you know the bed sheets will need a good wash in the morning.

His voice is like a caress when he leans over you with his lips at your ear, “Shhh,” he whispers softly, “We don’t want to wake Eunji, do we?”

You are forced to bite your lower lip to stifle the sounds that want —need— to escape your lips.

But his thrusts are so well-aimed and deep, his hips so precise, and his moans released right into your ear so fucking arousing that you have to reach out and grab a pillow to place over your mouth.

He looks back at you, and a louder, needier moan leaves his parted lips, as his expression shifts from one of concentration to pure pleasure.

It’s only when you feel close that you move the pillow. “Minho, I’m close…” you warn him.

“Me too,” he groans, “Come with me.”

“Yes, yes, yes! J-just a little more, please.”

He does his best to hold back a little longer, and it only takes a few circles on your clit to make you come, tightening around his cock that finishes inside the condom.

He doesn’t realise it immediately, too caught up in the pleasure, but as he tries to catch his breath, he thinks about it and realizes.

“I love you- Minho, I-” You said it just before coming; it might have been something of the moment.

He lifts his head from where it’s resting in the crook of your neck and looks at you.

You are motionless, embarrassed, regretful. Because, fuck, you didn’t really need to say it. You could have realised the gravity of your words before saying them.

And Minho could pretend nothing happened. He could act like he didn’t hear it, and you could go on as usual. But, fuck, he can’t.

The words escape his lips before he can stop them, “Did you really mean it?” He’s so direct, a request so desperate.

And you could say, “No, it was just the heat of the moment.” but apparently, that’s not really an option for you, because you speak without thinking twice, and you couldn’t feel freer when he smiles and kisses you. His soft lips on yours, in a moment you both have been waiting for so long.

And when the next morning he wakes up first and observes your sleeping face and relaxed body, he couldn’t feel happier.

Because he doesn’t have to hide anything from you anymore.

Because you love him too.

[gurugirl]

The Outlaw | biker!h | Only on Patreon

opposites attract | good girl/bad boy | strangers to lovers

Summary: Y/n is an innocent young woman struggling to get along in life. Harry's the leader of a group of an outlaw motorcycle club with a troubled past. When they meet, she can't help but feel an intense attraction toward the mysterious man, and as cute as she is, Harry thinks she's too sweet for him.

Short series only on Patreon. Part 1 out now!

[894 word teaser ↓]

“Um, thank you, Harry. Really. You’ve been so… so helpful and kind,” she looked up at him, a genuine smile on her face. He made her feel excited and a bit light-headed as well. She was sure she was reading more into it than was there but the sudden interest he’d taken in her and the muffin comment from earlier made her knees feel jittery and her pulse pick up.

He nodded, his eyes soft on her face, “Just wanted to help. Wouldn’t have just left you there on the side of the road with a flat tire like that.”

She pushed a breathy laugh out, “I would have figured it out. I always do.”

His eyes moved over her arms and down to her hands where he knocked at her knuckle with his, “You okay? Shaking a little.”

“Oh,” she looked down at her hand and shrugged, “I’m fine,” balling her hands up she shifted on her legs, “Just…”

Harry flattened his lips and raised his brows at her as she tried to find the rest of her sentence, “Just what? Surely you’re not cold.”

No. She wasn’t cold. It was hot and humid out despite the late hour. In fact she was sweating just the slightest under her arms. Sweating and shaking like an idiot. He probably thought she was on drugs.

“No. It’s uh…” she swallowed and smiled, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

His unrelenting scrutiny only made her heart pound harder which made it difficult for her to stop the way her body was shivering under his gaze. He was too handsome and he was standing at her door at 3 in the morning looking like someone who could hurt her but she knew he wouldn’t. Her brain was coming up with some very unwholesome thoughts about the man she hardly knew. The whole thing had her in a tizzy. Images of him unlocking her door with his irises searing into hers and pushing her into her apartment and having his way with her. Whatever he wanted.

The edge of a smile crooked up on his mouth as he licked lips, “All right then. If you say so. Sure you don’t need anything?” It was like he could read her thoughts.

Yes. I have a few things in mind that I need right now. All of them include you and your hands and your tattooed arms and those pink lips…

“No. I’m good. Probably just tired.”

He squinted down at her, as if he didn’t believe her words, “Probably. Well, you’ve got my number. Please use it if you need anything, okay?”

She nodded, “Yes. I will. Thank you.”

He smirked as he squeezed her arm, “You’re welcome, muffin.”

.   .   .

Harry knew better than to get involved with an innocent girl like Y/n. She was too sweet. Not for him. She deserved a nice guy with a boring job. Someone who’d treat her right and not break her heart. Someone reliable. Harry’d just destroy her sweetness and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Though, he could admit she was pretty. Really pretty. He’d thought so since the day he walked into the shop to get his sparkplugs replaced. Thought she was an awfully cute, nervous little thing. And then when he saw her in her diner uniform… well that fit her rather nicely he thought. It was quite the contrast from the frumpy getup she had on at the shop. Which pushed his opinion of her being cute into naively sexy. She really had no idea. And something about that was alluring to him. She was refreshing.

The other thing that had him all worked up over her was seeing her little panties when she spread her legs to climb up onto the seat behind him on his motorcycle. He helped steady her and he watched as the material of her dress slid up her thigh, revealing a pretty stretch of skin and he had the perfect view of what she had on underneath. Between her soft inner thighs, she donned a cute pair of panties that thankfully covered everything. And even with all her bits covered, the peek of her underwear doused his body in wanton heat. He couldn’t get over the little muffin pattern. Terribly cute. So innocent. So sweet. And she was like a muffin in that way, so it was a perfect name for her.

Harry had no shame. He called her muffin to get a rise out of her. He wanted to see her reaction. Didn’t know if she’d figure it out or not but he was compelled to say it anyway. Muffin. And her stunned face didn’t disappoint. She parted her lips and blinked her eyes in silence as he winked and then left her standing there in front of the diner.

But that was as far as it could ever go. She didn’t want a man like him and he couldn’t possibly think she’d be a fit for him in any way.

And not only that, but there was also something so sad and fraught about her. Someone had damaged her and she needed healing. Not Harry. Harry would only make it worse, whatever it was. He was curious, certainly. He’d like to hurt anyone who’d ever made her suffer or cry. But that was all he could offer her.

. .

Part 1 on Patreon! If you'd like more consider joining!

xoxo

[rhaenyra-storms]

Hi! Hello! So obsessed with Cregan too! Your fic with the direwolf pup was so precious, I loved it!

But, what about a lil something where Cregan steals kisses from his wife throughout the day whenever they see one another in the castle ?

thank you so much!! your idea is so adorable too and i loved writing it!

pairing: cregan stark x f!reader warnings: clingy cregan, just fluff, reader is shorter than cregan words: 1044

"M'lady, would you prefer beef or mutton for dinner tonight?"

A servant peeked into the room, the hint of a smile on his face. You had been stitching a few holes in your husband's pants, insisting to do it yourself. Cregan always managed to get them to tear open when he was out on a hunt. It was a small gesture from your side to fix them yourself.

"Beef would be nice. Thank you." You smiled back at the older servant before he bowed quickly and left you alone once more. However, you quickly realised that you were still supposed to send a raven to your mother. The pants could wait for a moment longer, so you placed them down on your bed before you headed out into the hallway.

The tall man at the end of the hallway, still with his back turned to you, would be recognised by you almost anywhere. Your husband was talking to one of the smith's new apprentices. Cregan was a kind lord to all his subjects and whenever he could, he loved to make a little conversation with them.

As soon as the young boy spotted you, he bowed briefly.

"Lady Stark."

Cregan turned around then, a smile already on his lips. He wasn't afraid to show his affection outside of your personal chambers, so his arm sneaked easily around your waist, pulling you in closer to himself.

He kept his attention on the boy though, giving him a polite nod. "It was nice talking to you. I am sure we'll talk again in the following weeks."

"Of course, my lord. It was my pleasure." He bowed once more before he hastened down the steps into the main hall, leaving you and your husband alone.

"Where were you going, my love?" Cregan asked curiously then, taking the time to grab your hips with both hands as you stood before him. You tilted your head up a little, looking at your tall husband. "Just wanted to send a raven to my mother. We haven't talked in a while and I wanted her to visit soon."

He smiled softly, giving you a nod. "You know she's always welcome here in Winterfell. I'd love to have her and your father around soon."

His right hand moved up to cup your chin gently, pulling your head a little closer to press a kiss against your lips. As always, you exchanged more than just one quick peck, leaning into your husband, hands planted on his strong chest.

A giggle escaped your lips when he turned you around, pressing your back against the stone wall behind you.

It took a few more moments until you were able to separate from each other.

"I could do this all day, darling. But I still need to work and-"

You stopped him as you placed a soft hand on his cheek. His skin was always warm and you could feel him leaning into your touch as he looked at you in the dim-lit hallway. Cregan's eyes would always be a beautiful sight to you.

"We're going to see each other for dinner and then we can have the whole evening to ourselves," you assured him, stealing one last kiss off his lips. He seemed satisfied enough with your response and made sure to press his lips against the back of your hand one more time before you parted ways.

You weren't really sure how much of a coincidence it was when you were on your way back from the Maester later in the day and ran into your husband in the courtyard.

Wasn't he out hunting just an hour earlier?

It didn't matter to you though when he wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to the side gently. His lips were on yours quicker than you could realise, a surprised laughter making its way out of your mouth.

Your hands flew up to grab his hair for a moment as his big hands rested on the small of your back.

A tension started to build in your stomach and you pressed your body more against your husband's, desperate to savour the moment as much as you could. He had probably been waiting for you somehow and you were glad that he did. Getting to kiss him throughout the day was the greatest pleasure you could imagine.

"Cregan," you laughed softly when he continued to plant a few kisses on your right cheek. "You know we're supposed to be going after our tasks?" His arms had wrapped tightly around your waist, his scent filling your nose. He smelled like the pines outside Winterfell, something you'd always recognise about him.

"I know, love. But you're making my day sweeter with this." His voice had turned a little rough as he whispered in your ear, shivers running down your spine as a response. Your hands slid under his cloak and you pressed yourself closer to your husband once more.

You met gazes again as you looked up, Cregan's eyes undeniably filled with adoration. How did you get so lucky?

"I love you, Cregan. And you're right, it's making my day sweeter too. As long as I can steal a kiss from you every now and then, being the Lady of Winterfell does not get boring at all," you whispered, pecking his lips again. Could you ever get enough of this? Could he ever get enough of this?

Some people might describe your husband as a very serious man. But whenever he smiled, you felt like there was nothing bad in the world that mattered. He smiled at you all the time and it made you feel like the most important part of his world.

"Every kiss the Lady of Winterfell can grant me is sacred to me," he whispered as he took your hand and brought it up to his mouth. His lips brushed over your knuckles gently, leaving a trail of warmth behind as he moved up to your wrist with his mouth.

He manoeuvred your hand to his cheek slowly, letting it rest there before he connected your lips once more.

All your days could go past like this for the rest of your life and you would be the happiest woman in the world.

[dcxdpdabbles]

More cave boy? <3 <3 <3

Constantine kept throwing him long looks. Ever since the core test, the British man couldn't stop staring. Sometimes, he would glance at him, look away to shake his head, and then quickly glance back and start the whole cycle over.

Danny wasn't really sure why he was behaving this way. Much less why John Constantine felt the need to send a message to everyone in the magical community a message.

There was a large group of people wearing the most ridiculous outfits he'd ever seen—and his parents ran around in jumpsuits daily—peeking at him from every window, doorway, and, in that one girl's case, a shadow. They all stared at him like a natural miracle was happening before their eyes.

If you asked Danny, the worst part was that they didn't say anything. They just stood there, menacingly, in silence, staring. Bruce and the others had tried to get rid of them, but all the magic-user had done was a scurry to the edge of Bruce's property and camp out there.

He was sure he saw a boy with a cat praying to him at one point. The boy fully bowing low, hand on the ground, and muttering in ghost speech of gratitude for being in his presence.

Danny couldn't figure out why.

Constantine had yet to be evident on the issue either.

The man had been much more focused on explaining why he had been so disrespectful when he first woke.

Apparently, the day they found his cave, he had detected overworld energy in such high density and frankly alarming robust levels. He had assumed that a demon, an evil ghost, or even a trickster god had targeted the alternative version of Bruce Wayne.

Everyone knew the phrase "Get noticed by a higher being" never ended well in any legend, regardless of where the myth originated. Humans have always suffered in some way in those tales—most times, the human's death was the best possible outcome.

It would make sense why Danny had been thrown into a different dimension despite being a mere civilian—or as civilian as a version of Bruce Wayne could be if this was the case. He was worried that the young boy was in danger from forces far beyond human compression and had decked his room with every protective ward he knew.

He had almost demanded Danny be moved to the House of Mysteries since the death covering him had been so thickly layered over his soul. Then Danny woke up, making it evident that he was the cause of the energy, not the guiding light attracting the power like a month to the flame.

Then Constantine figured that Danny had been killed by the higher being who was done playing with him. Whatever happened in that cave meant that Bruce's alternative had lost, and now that higher being was pretending to be Danny.

The reason?

When Danny had first been found getting dangerously close to the Batcave, Constantine had been one of the first Bruce had called for some tests (tests that he was unconscious for while being held in that glass cage). He had confirmed that Danny had no magical power, so they wrote him off as meta.

The second time Constantine saw his unconscious body, he was significantly less human because he had been Phantom for literal days until he passed out. His magic had been reported as such, so Constantine had reacted accordingly, believing that the Ghost King seal was the only deserving revenge for the boy he allowed to perish in such a horrific manner.

He wanted Danny's body back from whatever was pretending to be him when he woke. Constantine just wanted to help him rest. He was not expected to threaten the King with his own seal and apologized profoundly once the confusion was cleared up.

Danny had no idea what the magic trench coat man was talking about. What King Seal? That was the badly done carvings he did with Jazz two summers ago!

What King's Guard? That's just a badly drawn photo of Fright Knight that Dan made!

What King's Cry? That's just a recording of Danny singing badly to a radio song Tucker made!

None of this made sense, especially this royal mystical treatment he received. Thankfully, the Waynes were on his side about it. They still treated him like Brucie, but there was one notable difference.

"You're majesty," Jason said with a mocking bow. "Your carriage awaits."

Danny frowns. "What?"

"Tim finished your ship."

"Oh," Danny stood quickly, a rush of impatience and slight wonder overwhelmingly developing in his chest. He'd been here for literal months, almost a full year. Danny never gave up on his idea of going home, but that was more of a stubborn hope that he would see his world again.

With each passing day, he felt that his home was getting further and further away.

And now, here it was, within reach. He didn't know what to do with that knowledge. Other than race down to the cave with his heart beating a mile a minute. He's so close. So close.

Out of his eye, he spots a woman in the window wearing a strange outfit and pressing her hands against the glass. Her silver bracelets gleam as she offers him a quick smile.

Danny swears he had seen her coming and going through the manor when he was pretending to be simple Brucie- Wonder something- but she now offers him a deep down on her knee bow. He checks Jason's reaction, but seeing that he hasn't noticed, he walks by her with a tiny head nod.

He cares more about going home, not manners.

"Hey Danny," Jason calls, falling in step with him. "I've been meaning to ask. But.....your parents are alive, and everything thinks you're this big shot in the afterlife....are you like me?"

"No, I'm caucasian," Danny tells him while mindlessly changing the arms of the clock that should open the Batcave to him.

Jason laughs. "No, kid. I mean about dying."

Danny squints up at him with confusion. "You're not a ghost."

"No, but I did die. I just came back." Jason tells him with another laugh, but this one is bitter. Danny considers the question, then shakes his head.

"No, I technically never left. I died and lived and died and lived and died and lived again." He makes a circle with his hands. "It's a cycle of being on the line between worlds, not one side completely on any given day."

"You are a god then." Damian comments, suddenly at Danny's elbow. Danny has no idea where the kid came from, only barely stopping himself from screaming as the younger boy puffs up his chest. "Of course, my father would be a god."

"Wait, if Bruce is a god in one world, maybe he has the potential to turn into a god in everyone. That would explain how he strengthens the more people know of him- the more they believe in him." Tim calls from across the cave, where he is typing on the computer.

He pauses and twists around with a look of manic curiosity. "That could mean he passed along powers to his children- Jason, what if Bruce made you a demi-god that day he adopted you, and that's how you came back? That's how all of us come back!"

"The dots are connecting," Dick shouts from the top of the cave, waving his two forefingers around. Danny had no idea why he felt the need to climb high places to do the splits between two rock formations, but he found that Dick tended to do that often. "The Justice League was right....we bats aren't human!"

Danny raised a hand. "I'm not a god. I'm not a King. I'm just a kid from Amity Park who wants to go home."

The others don't pay him any mind, so Danny leaves the Bats to gather around and compare notes. All he can see is the ship resting on a ledge. It resembles Fenton Tech so much that for a second, he feels an overwhelming sense of homesickness.

Soon, he thinks, running his hand on the smooth metal. Soon, I'll be home.

"I call dibs on the godhood of delinquents!"

"You can't just call dibs on godhood, Duke."

"Yes, I can. I have two godly fathers now, which means I have double the demi-god. I'm a mostly-god; I outrank you, Tim."

"I am Stephine, the demi-god of purple!"

"Steph, what does that even mean?

"All things purple answer to me."

As soon as the Waynes focus.

[itsmealaiah]

"Longing"

georg listing x fem! reader

TW: sexual innuendo, profanity, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, p in v sex, fingering, reader being me fr, name-calling, head (reader rec), hair-pulling

Request by anon: HAIIIII ^_^ can you do a Georg x female reader where Georg is writing lyrics for a new Tokio Hotel song and the reader is laying on the bed and watching him from afar? like, watching his fingers move on the pencil and thinking "mm i need those fingers in my pussy fr" hqohsishsoshs sorry i have a soft spot for Georg. 😭

Rating: explicit content ahead, under 15 dni

Word Count: 1.5k

"georg, pleaseee" you whine, watching his eyebrows furrow as he continues to work. "baby, I told you. I have to get this done" he says sternly, keeping his eyes on the paper.

You huff, still lying on your side watching him. You couldn't really help yourself, his brows furrowed and his tongue slightly poking out of his mouth was making a certain heat between your legs flare up, not to even mention, how his fingers were moving so delicately across the paper and guiding the pencil.

You just wanted to feel his fingers in you, was that so bad? To have his tongue flicking your clit while you tugged on his hair begging for more..

You crossed your legs, the heat only growing more intense from your thoughts. You tried not to watch georg, your eyes now glued to the ceiling to try and stop the feverish feeling growing inside you.

You gazed at him quickly, getting a peek of him against your will before turning your gaze back to the ceiling. "You okay baby? you're acting weird" georg spoke, putting the pencil down and looking to meet your eyes. You nodded, taking a deep breath. "You sure? you don't seem like you are" he pressed.

"I'm just hot, that's all" you smiled. "are you done?" you hoped he was, for the sake of the heat between your legs only growing more intense. "not yet, just a bit more to do" he rubbed his face with one hand, yawning. You walked over to him, turning his chair so he was facing you.

You grasped his chin with your fingers, making his head tilt up so your eyes were on each other. "i gotta finish thi-" he started, but you cut him off. "How much do you have left?" he thought for a second. "just a bit of the chorus, why?" you smirked, pulling him off the chair and towards the bed. "baby, i told you, I can't" he sighed.

"please? just for me?" you ask, pouting. "i don't know" he gazes back to his work, your hands already working at getting his shirt off. "we can't" he stops your hands. You lean to whisper in his arm, one arm tugging away from his grip and wrapping around his waist. "one round, please" you beg, whimpering in his ear.

His heart skipped a beat, his body heating up at your noise. You grinned, stripping him of his shirt before he could tell you no, leaving a small kiss on his neck. You laid him on the bed, undoing his pants and tearing them off. You threw them to the side, gazing at him lustfully. You gripped his hair, leaning down to kiss him passionately. You broke the kiss, your eyes lidded heavy with desire, quickly taking off your own clothes as georg stripped himself of his boxers. You both fumbled in the bed, desperate to be skin to skin, and once you were both undressed, he flipped you over, his fingers and head coming to meet your cunt.

You moaned his name, his hot breath fanning over your clit as he stuck his tongue out, licking up a stripe of your wet pussy. Your hands gripped on his hair, a strangled noise coming from georg. He removed your hands, pressing his own against your waist as he increased his pace. His head moved up and down quickly, groans spilling from his mouth and vibrating into your cunt. Your back arched off the bed, his fingers slipping into you. "oh georg" you whimper, his fingers hitting that gummy spot inside you.

Your legs wrap around his head lightly, gently squeezing the sides as he pleasured you. "so fucking sweet" he whimpered, his words causing you to lift up your hips. His tongue flicked against your clit, your legs beginning to shake, completely under his control. He placed them over his shoulders, wet noises filling the room. "oh-oh my god" you whined, fisting the sheets, the material twisting in your grip. He stared into your eyes as he ate you out, taking away his fingers and stimulating your pussy with his tongue. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

Your legs began to shake, a sign you were close. He pulled his head away, teasing you and going to kiss you with his lips coated with your juices. You cringed at the taste of yourself, pulling him away and whining. "why didn't you let me come?" you pout once more. "you took me away from my work, you think you deserve to come?" he chuckles, bringing his fingers back down to your messy cunt. You looked down, seeing his digits slip back into you. "fuck!" you whimpered, hiding your face in georg's shoulder. The tips of his fingers hit your spot mercilessly, your mouth falling open and your head falling backwards as a result. Your walls pulsated around him once again, a warmth heating up in your stomach, ready to snap. Before georg could pull his fingers away, you came, your breathing uneven as you came down from your high.

He pulled his fingers out, bringing them to your lips. "suck" he demanded, his fingers coated with your slick and your come. You licked them up as he asked, looking at him with wide eyes. He took them out and positioned himself over you, his cock at your entrance. He held your hips, steadying himself. He pushed in slowly, his cock going balls deep and stilling inside, letting your walls adjust to him and his size before he would begin to thrust. "you ready baby?" he asked, bringing a hand to your cheek and stroking it softly. You nodded feverishly, your body on fire.

He began to pump in and out of your pussy, keeping a steady and gentle pace. Your legs wrapped around his bare waist, your heels digging into his lower back as you closed your eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving you. "so good honey, you're doing so good" he praised, leaning down to kiss you. You moaned into his mouth, allowing his tongue entrance. He smiled, his tongue delving into it and licking the roof of your mouth. Your arms held on to his muscular ones, his body creating a pace that was so slow and pleasurable you felt like you were going to burst.

His tip ran over your spot, a loud moan emitting from your throat. He broke the kiss, smirking at you. "right there baby?" he teased, angling to the side so he wasn't hitting it anymore. You shook your head, not in the mood to be teased. He grinned, hitting your actual spot once more. You gripped onto him, your limbs wrapping around his body desperately. "g-georg" you moaned, feeling so good inside. He held you close to his body, wrapping his arms around you as he went deeper, hitting your spot so effortlessly it was amazing. Your body quivered and shook in his embrace, getting close to bliss. "i'm so close" you breathed, making sure he heard you. "i know honey, i know. I am too" he said softly, noticing how your walls were beginning to squeeze him.

He continued to thrust sweetly, providing enough pleasure for the both of you. His balls lightly slapped against your ass, not being harsh at all. You cried out his name, your noise revebrating throughout the bedroom. Your walls closed in on him, squeezing and milking his cock harshly. He groaned, getting close to the edge. A knot began to build up in your stomach, creating a delicious feeling inside you. Georg pressed a hand to your lower belly, knowing a certain trick from Tom. "Three fingers below the belly, and the woman comes faster" tom had told him, and he hoped he wasn't lying. He gently applied more pressure, your moans getting louder and higher pitched. You came on him, the knot inside you snapping. He smiled to himself, knowing it had worked.

He continued to thrust, riding out your high. You whimpered, sweaty from the intimacy. It didn't take very long for him to come, his balls tightening and a swelling occuring in his lower belly. He grunted, thrusting one last time before he came. He kissed you sweetly, running his hand over your sweat-sheened face. He wrapped his arms around you, letting you lie on his chest. He grabbed some tissues, cleaning up your cunt and his cock. He kissed your head, murmuring an 'i love you'. You repeated it back, hugging him tightly. He did the same, rubbing your back until you fell asleep. He got up and turned on a fan, trying to keep you cool and to let your body get rid of the sweat.

"night baby" he whispered, knowing he still had to do the lyric writing, but that could wait. Right now, you were the most important thing in his world.

glad to be back, sorry if im rusty 🤍

Taglist 1: @madzandmore @20doozers @cosmicck @itsangelll @tomssexdoll

Taglist 2: @tokio-motel @estxkios @ccbunnv @tomsonlyslut @kqulitzlvr

Taglist 3: @roseroseluvrr @ballhair @cherry-rawr @tomkaulitzsjuicyballs @billsdolliest

Taglist 4: @rvzcvx @tvkiohvtel @lady-haitani @bkaulitzlover

Comment on masterlist post to be tagged!

Requests are open! Keep sending them in!

[kandlewick]

In the Queendom of Roses, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes. gn reader x rook, a howl's moving castle au pt. 1

You, being born the eldest of three, always knew you wouldn't make it far in life. It was to be expected after all. You were fated to fail first and worst out of your siblings. When your siblings both were able to conjure magic from a young age, you could hardly blow a breeze. It would have been embarrassing if you hadn't already humbled yourself as a child. Of course you weren't anything special. The world needed normal, ordinary people too after all. So what if you weren't able to attend fancy colleges and gain the attention of the headmage Ambrose like your sibling had. There was nothing for you to be jealous of because you never aimed higher then what you could reach.

And so, here you were, employed — stuck — at your family's prized hat shop, sitting alone in your little alcove with only your hats as company. It was quiet, some might think too quiet, but it was where you were most comfortable. No expectations, no commentary, just you, your utensils, and your craftsmanship.

You handled your hats with care, quietly whispering blessings with each stitch. They were your creations after all. You might not amount to much but your hats would. They would settled themselves on to the heads of the busy housewives, the men of the army, and the young lovers, each with their own story to tell. You would flatter the hats, just as you would your customers.

"You," handling a small cap adorned with a veil and knot, "will surely be given to someone of glamor and beauty. They won't be able to keep their eyes off of you" You set it out amongst your most prized hats, quietly adjusting it atop the display. This one was made using expensive but durable material. It wouldn't do to have it placed sloppily. It deserved the best.

"And you," you smiled with a small chuckle, picking up a white fedora with a gaudy ribbon tied around it, "will go to a wonderfully handsome man with a good heart, I'm sure of it." It was a rather silly hat, made last minute with some left over materials, but it was sturdy all the same. The colors were also popular in the Queendom of Roses, especially amongst the card soldiers employed at the castle. Maybe one of them might stumble upon your little hat shop and spy this hat in the window.

You talked to your hats more and more as the weeks went by. You were good at selling them so it wasn't hard keeping yourself afloat. Just the other day, one of the Queen's card soldiers had come in to your shop, a man with hair the color of clovers, and sheepishly asked if he could see that one white fedora in the window. He claimed that for some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about it when he had gone off shift and needed to know if it was still available. It was a good sale and you're glad your hat went off to a good owner.

But then one day, on a particularly strenuous and busy day, you found yourself stuck wit horrible artist block. No matter how much you tried, you couldn't find any sort of inspiration for a new hat. Hours were wasted while you wiled away at your desk. Nothing worked and you found yourself teary eyed, sniffling loudly as you rubbed at your burning eyes, spools of ribbon and fabric lying all around you.

"Truly," you sobbed, heart aching, "being the oldest child is the worst curse you can be given."

What good were you if you couldn't even do the one thing you had some modicum of talent for? So what if your shop was popular?Surely this is where you peaked, alone with only the company of your hats. While your siblings were off making their fortune, surrounded by friends and loved ones, you sat here alone in an empty shop. You had no friends to speak of, the only time you ever talked was when your customers gossiped at you and finally it seemed the dam you had tried so hard to ignore had finally broke. The waves of your bottled up emotions drained out of you in waves and you could hardly stand it. What was the point of youth? Compared to others your age, you felt so old, so decrepit. Your bones ached from your poor posture, your hair thinning from the stress, and your eyes were circled with what could be mistaken for charcoal. You have never felt more unfit of your young age in your life.

In your sorrow, you spotted a purple hunter's hat — an incredibly gaudy thing you had made in an attempt to create something, anything of worth — and for the first time in your life, you cursed one of your creations.

"Surely only someone who finds beauty in anything will find any use of you!"

But the days go on whether you liked them to or not. You opened your store once again and quietly pushed down your feelings. You sat in your little alcove again today, quietly and mindlessly stitching something on to another, when you heard the tall tale sign of someone entering your shop. A small jingle followed the stranger as they ducked in almost silently. You inwardly sighed, slouching against your seat, but got up all the same. It wouldn't do not to be polite. You didn't have the fortune to afford it.

"Good evening," You plastered on a small smile at the stranger, a man, before you stopped and actually got a good look of him. He was quite tall, casting a lovely slender figure with his elaborate blonde hair, and was garbed in a bright and obviously expensive purple. His sleeves trailed longer than any you've seen before, all delicate trim and golden weaves. He even wore perfume too. The subtle smell of hyacinths followed him as he turned and smiled, his bright emerald eyes crinkling with delight.

"Bonne soirée!" He eagerly returned your greeting, with a bob of his head, his hand to his chest. You blinked up at him, mildly surprised at his mannerisms but chose not to acknowledge it, instead choosing to respond in kind.

"I've never seen you before," You admitted softly, watching as he slowly turned to admire your work. It wasn't too uncommon for customers to want to see everything but there was something different about this man. The way his eyes never glazed over as he looked, almost as if he was inspecting each one in great detail, almost made you embarrassed. Most people would just mindlessly look for something to catch their fancy but this man seemed almost entranced, as if each piece was a work of art. You both stood there in silence until the strange man seemed to snap out of his trance, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Were those tears in his eyes?!

"Ah, forgive me," He apologized, "I was simply admiring them. Is this all your work?" He appeared almost eager for a response, his head bobbed to the side.

You nodded sheepishly, "Yes, these are all my work. It's my job. When I'm not up front with the customers, I'm in my workshop creating them."

His smile, once subdued and quiet, widened. He took your calloused hands in his own and squeezed them. You flushed and scrambled away but his grip was too tight, not uncomfortably so, but enough that it felt too rude to rip your hands away...

"You're incredibly talented, mon ami!" He spoke with such reverence, "All of these hats, each more enchanting then the next, were obviously created from the hands of an artist!" The strange man spoke with such conviction, he almost had you believing him. You could smell the hyacinth even clearer now from your close proximity to him and it nearly made your head spin. What a courtly person!

The stranger, his hands still firmly clasped around your own, turned back to admire your hats. "Each stitch is full of magic, I've never seen anything quiet like it before."

"I - sir, I appreciate your words but I fear they're wasted on me," You let out a nervous laugh as your heart thumped in your chest, its excited beating feeling like it was about to jump straight out or your chest, "They're just hats."

The blonde man was quick to deny this, his hair rolling down his shoulders in waves, "I beg to differ, mon petite souris! Even someone such as I can see all the hard work you've put in to these! There's no need to be so humble!"

Humble! Hardly! If only he knew how you've been the past few days, stuck in your artist block, unable to dig your way out of it. He was wrong! So, so so wrong! You were nothing! This wasn't talent, this was just you using up all the luck left that had been given to you. With an almost annoyed huff, you were quick to free your hands from the strangers embrace and hid them away in your aprons front pocket. Your fingers were shaking.

"I... appreciate your kind words but I do have a business to run," You put on your best customer service voice you could muster and looked away from the man, not seeing the soft crestfallen expression forming on his face. His eyes narrowed but he made no move to reach back out and instead, his voice lowered in to an apologetic tone.

"You're right, mon petite souris. Perhaps in my admiration, I got a bit too excited." The blonde man's gloved hand came to rest against his chest and he gave a small nod of his head towards you, trying to catch your eye, "My apologies."

Well, now on top of your horrible mood, you felt bad. You let out an equally remorseful sigh, and turned back to him but he wasn't looking at you anymore. Instead, his gaze was over your shoulder, looking past you to the lone purple hunter's cap hidden away in the back. The very hat you had cursed.

"If I may be forward," He began slowly while his eyes reluctantly looked away to meet your own, "As an apology, I'd like to purchase that hat from you. Name your price."

You gave him a look but turned to grab it. The feather tucked inside of the red around the brim bobbed as you picked it up.

"This thing?" You asked, "I don't think it's any good. I made it on a whim and —"

Rook slowly plucked it from your hand and admired it for himself, turning it this way and that. His smile was sad but he accepted it all the same, "I think it is a lovely hat," he lowered his head and slid in on top of his blonde hair. It was strange, the hat seemed to... belong with him. While the hat itself was hardly anything to look at on its own, it matched his whole ensemble, like it was a piece of the puzzle that had been missing the whole time.

"How much?" He asked, utterly enamored by his reflection.

You watched from beside him, eyes avoiding your own form, but you offered his reflection a small smile and a shake of your head, "It's free. I couldn't charge you after I was so rude to you."

The stranger's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, his bright green eyes meeting your own, but they were quick to narrow in delight. His lips curled into a smile.

"Thank you, mon petite souris, I will treasure it."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" As much as you wanted to get back to your work, you couldn't help but silently wish for a few more moments with this stranger. He was so oddly charming.

"Non, non, you've done more then enough for me today." He bowed his head, the feather on his hat bobbing with the movement, and quietly made his way to the door. His steps were silent all the way. "I have much I need to do an I have left two others waiting for my company long enough." And with a final wave of his hand, the strange man exited the shop.

You stood there longer then you should've, staring at the door, his words quietly echoing in your mind.

"All of these hats, each more enchanting then the next, were obviously created from the hands of an artist!"

You scoffed but smiled all the same. Courtly men like that just say things to gain favors. He must've been just trying to butter you up. You shook your head. It was almost a shame you'd never see the man again.

The quiet was soon shattered by a bustle of women worriedly entering the shop, each one calling out for you in worried tones. One of your regulars, an elderly woman was quick to push past the others and hurry her way to you. Her arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders and pulled you down to her height, "Oh, you poor thing!"

"Huh?" You blinked as she pulled away to look you over. Why was everyone so worried about you? "Whats gotten in to you all?"

"Whats gotten in to us?" She shrieked, her feet stomping into your worn floor, "What's gotten in to you! Do you know just who that man was?"

The man? The blonde, courtly man?

"Yes! That man!" She hollered, "That's the wizard Rook! Rook Hunt! The man who eats the hearts of those he sets his sights on! The one with the moving castle!!"

Oh? Oh! Oh.

You just gave the great wizard Rook Hunt an ugly hat.

[bookuce]

Fools Rush In

SUMMARY: Nessa wasn’t looking for love, neither was Joe, but when you know, you know.  Isn’t it funny how fate work?

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OCs. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, Joe is Roman. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

TROPE: Love At First Sight

WARNINGS: N/A

WORD COUNT: 3,659

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

Nessa’s Uber stopped in front of the InterContinental Hotel of Miami. A valet driver approached her door, opening it for her to step out. “Good evening, miss.” The Valet greets her with a smile. Slowly, she steps out of the car, her head tilting back to take in its size. It was nothing short of luxurious—which made sense for Joe to stay there. 

“Yeah, hi.” She says, slightly turning her head to acknowledge the man. When he noticed she had no bags, he would move off to the side, his arms clasping behind his back. She ascended the granite steps to the glass doors, where a doorman stood by to open the door for her. “Thank you.” She says, briefly glancing at the doorman. She walks into the hotel lobby, her eyes wide with amazement. She’s never been in something so grand before. She expected them to start charging her for even breathing the air here. 

“Good evening, ma’am.” The concierge clerk greets her with a smile from behind her desk. “May I help you?” She asks. Nessa forces herself to look away from the grandness of the lobby, walking over to the employee.

“Um, I’m looking for Joe?” She asks. The woman’s smile falters slightly, and she leans in a bit. She was going to need a little more than just a first name. Joe was a typical name to have, and without a last name, she couldn’t help her. 

“Last name?” She presses. It was then Nessa realized she never got his last name. Joe was simply Joe to her. 

“I don’t know…we met earlier tonight—he invited me here.” She explains, slightly shaking her head. “I can describe him?” She suggests. “He’s tall,” She lifts her hand above her head a few inches. “About yay high, bearded. He has long hair, but it’s tied back in a tight bun. Really, super attractive and—.”

“Super attractive, huh?” An amused voice says from behind her. Nessa becomes incredibly still, her eyes widening. She was busted. Slowly, she turns around, coming face-to-face with Joe. He was standing a couple of feet away, two bags in his hands. He had just gotten their food from a delivery driver. There was a grin that matched his tone of voice on his lips. 

“Um,” She drifts off, becoming silent.

Though she remembered who she had seen earlier, he appeared to her now an entirely different person. The hairs in his bun threaten to leave the up-do, beginning to stand wildly on his head. The suit was gone, now replaced with a tight black shirt and dark grey sweats. It was giving ‘I just rolled out of bed’ but in the best way. Her eyes would flicker down to his heavily tattooed right arm. She couldn’t examine it for too long without being caught ogling him. He glances past her at the concierge clerk, lifting his brows slightly with a nod. “She’s with me.” He tells them, his gaze then shifting to his date for the night. He gestures with his head for her to walk with him, which she does. 

“So this place is nice,” Nessa mentions, trying to create small talk.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” He replies. He’s been to better, but he wouldn’t say that out loud. He didn’t want to come off arrogant to her. “How was your ride over here, though?”

“It was fine.” She answers. The Uber Black he ordered for her wasn’t necessary, but she wouldn’t dare tell him that. Obviously, he had money, so who was she to advise him how to spend it? She walked with him over to the elevator. “Thank you for that, by the way.” She says quietly.

“You’re welcome.” He says, reaching out to press the button to call the elevator. The lift would ding and then open, “After you.” He says, gently swinging one of the waffle house bags towards the inside. Vanessa followed his orders, quickly moving into the elevator. He followed behind her, his eyes fixed on the back of her head. Once inside, they both would turn to face the doors. Where Nessa was staring ahead with nervousness apparent on her face, Joe wore a big smile. He was happy she was here. She was, too. She’s still in disbelief that she chose not to be a coward for once. 

Joe presses the R button for the rooftop, prompting the doors to close and the lift to ascend the building. Nessa would glance at him, taking a second to admire his side profile. His ears, though large, fit him perfectly. His nose was straight, his cheekbones high. On those cheekbones, there were faint speckles of pigment. He was perfect. She was now back to questioning his profession. Model? He has to be. Feeling her gaze on him, Joe looks in her direction. Nessa quickly looked away, but it was too late. He had caught her staring. 

Now, it was his turn to admire her. Her face was small, but her features were the perfect size. Her nose was small but curved out to accentuate the fullness of her lips. Full lashes hid her almond-shaped eyes, but when she looked at him, he could tell they were soft and full of innocence—at least to Joe, they were. Even in this relaxed state, she was drop-dead gorgeous to him. Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. The black hoodie she wore was oversized, swallowing her frame. 

The elevator dings, letting them know they have reached their destination. The doors open, revealing an empty Olympic-size pool with plenty of vacant chairs lining the sides. “I got us over here.” He says, leading them beyond the pool area onto green turf. Nessa was walking behind him, still taking in the sights around her. She’s never seen the skyline of Miami from this point. The sound of waves crashing against a concrete path down below soothed her. Altogether, it was a vibe.

Joe stopped in front of his setup, and Nessa didn’t notice. She collided with his back, prompting him to turn to look over his shoulder. “You good?” He asks, laughing softly at her.

“Sorry, I wasn’t—.” She mutters, her eyes finding the scene on the faux grass before her. “Oh,” She breathes. Her reaction was everything Joe hoped it would be. He steps to the side, allowing her to take it all in. He had set up a picnic spot for them. Decorative pillows lined a white comforter spread neatly on the ground. On the comforter was a small table with an ice bucket, wine, and two crystal glasses. 

“The hotel helped me put this together. It was the best they could do with forty minutes, but I think it’s okay.” He glances at her, trying to gauge her feelings off her facial reaction. “What do you think?” He asks. She looks at him, a soft smile on her face.

“It’s perfect. Less is more.” She answers. He’d match her soft smile, now kicking off his slippers.

“Then let’s eat.” He says, moving onto the cushioned pallet. She removes her shoes, stepping on the back of the heel to take them off. Her feet would sink into the prickliness of the turf before she sat down next to him. He was opening their bags and removing their to-go boxes from the bag. “Steak and waffles for the lady.” He says, passing off the container. “I told them to include A1—just in case you needed it.” Though Waffle House was a great late-night meal, it can be a hit-or-miss.

“Thank you.” She says, giving him a small smile.

Nessa and Joe would spend the entire meal asking questions about each other. She’d discovered he was Samoan, which would explain the beautiful tattoo she’d been staring at all night. He’d find out Vanessa was the eldest sibling of three. She’d learn he was an athlete but hadn’t played football in several years. He’d learn that she was a well-established photographer and had dreams of one day opening a studio. Now, he was overseeing the family business with his two cousins. He didn’t talk about the family business, but that was all for good reason. 

He noticed something about her earlier that made him want to know her even more. Nessa didn’t know who he was before he approached her, and he appreciated it. To her, he was just another man. Something about not being recognized as one of the most prominent faces in Sports Entertainment was refreshing to him.

The pair finished their meal within thirty minutes of sitting down. Now, they were talking over a glass of wine. They lay on their sides facing each other, their elbows propped to hold up their upper bodies. “So, have you checked in with your cousins you abandoned?” She asks, peering down at her smartwatch. Joe snorts at the mention of his cousins. He’d forgotten all about them. “It’s three in the morning.” She informs him. 

“I have their locations.” He says, pulling out his phone. He had hoped they made it back to the hotel and nowhere else, or this night would be cut short. When Josh and Jon’s location appeared at the hotel, he sighed softly. “They made it back in one piece.” He informs her. 

“What are they like?” She asks, now curious about his family. His eyebrows jump at the question, and he takes a deep breath.

“They’re a lot. Luckily, Jon got his wife Trinity to keep him grounded nowadays.” He explains.

“And Josh?”

“It’s complicated with him.” There is a girl his cousin is interested in, but they are in a weird spot. He has his hopes for them, though. But he and Josh are the single ones in the group. “He’s trying to find a way out of the friend zone.” Nessa would bare her teeth at Joe, sucking in a breath through them in a hiss.

“Ouch,”

“I know, right? I admire his dedication, though.” He says, shaking his head slightly.

“I guess that runs in the family, then.” She says.

“What?” He asks.

“Being dedicated.” She replies. Joe looks up at her, those dark eyes finding her own. “Seeing that I’m here right now.” She adds.

“We were always taught that if we want something, we should go after it. No matter what it takes.” He explains. The pair would grow silent, eyes locked on eyes. There was heat building in Nessa’s chest at the sight of this man. Her anxiety was no longer a factor, thanks to the glass of wine she’d been sipping. That heat would spread throughout her body but make itself known in her ears. Why was it hot all of a sudden? Was it the wine? It had to be the wine. Red wine always did this to her. 

“Is that what you’re doing?” She asks finally.

“Mhm.” He hums. 

His gaze would become too much for her, her body feeling as if it was on fire. She begins to fan herself, taking a deep breath. “Is it hot up here to you?” She asks, her brows furrowed slightly. He chuckles softly at her.

“Might have something to do with the hoodie.” He says, plucking at the baggy sleeve with his thumb and index finger. “Although it looks comfortable, you can always take it off.” He says lowly. Where the wine was making Nessa hot, it was making Joe more confident than before. Her eyes would find his once more when he mentions her removing the article of clothing. Suddenly, she couldn’t remember if she had anything on underneath this hoodie besides her bra. 

“I-I don’t have a shirt on beneath this.” She admits. He lifts his eyebrows at her. Perhaps that was too much information. “I mean—I have a bra on, it’s just—.” She stammers. 

“This is the shirt. I get it.” He finishes for her. She’d nods, her eyes closing as she mentally kicked herself for the word vomit she spewed. “We can go in then?” He suggests. Joe begins to push himself up, sitting upright in front of her. “Get you some cool air, maybe an actual shirt?” He jokes. 

“No, no, it’s fine.” She says, holding up her hand. Her eyes shift from him to the glowing blue pool across the way. She was now pushing herself to sit up. “Question.” She says.

“Answer.” He replies, watching the side of her face. 

“Do you swim?” She’d ask, turning to look at him. She’d meet his intense gaze, her heart jumping at the sight.

Joe’s eyes would drift off from hers, now watching the large pool in the open. “You want to swim?” He asks. She grins at his question, now moving to stand to her feet. She’d down the last gulp of wine in her glass before leaning down to put it on the tray. 

“Yep,” She breathes, now walking away from her date. Joe watches after her, his eyes immediately finding the first section of skin she exposed while removing her hoodie. Nessa hooks her thumbs into her sweatpants and yank them down. There she was, standing in a matching black Calvin Klein set. Nessa eyes the water, taking a slow breath in. “Here we go,” She whispers, closing her eyes. She didn’t know what she was doing anymore and had the wine to thank for that. 

Joe’s eyes scanned her semi-clad body one last time before slowly moving to stand to his feet. She’d kicked the two articles of clothing to the side before reaching up to pull her hair from that messy bun. It’ll fall effortlessly to frame her face and cover her shoulders. She finally opens her eyes, now backing away from the edge. She was about to dive in and wanted a running start. Mentally, she prayed she didn’t trip on the way in. To embarrass herself in front of such an absolute man would be a death sentence to her. That was just her being dramatic. Joe hadn’t moved to remove any of his clothes just yet. He was in a trance he couldn’t seem to break. 

This woman was captivating to him and somehow unknowingly unique. The way she talked reminded him of himself. She never wants to receive recognition and deflects praise of any kind. Such a humble and down-to-earth woman she is. She was quiet for the most part, making it known that she was listening to him. She was what he liked precisely. He would be honest; he thought he’d never see her again after tonight. His mind kept telling him that maybe she gave him the wrong number and maybe, just maybe, she thought he was weird for approaching her while she was out with her friend. But something told him—no, urged him to call her, and here she was, standing on the rooftop of his hotel with him at three in the morning.

He should really stop being pessimistic. 

If he was truly Roman Reigns, this night would have gone differently. It wouldn’t be her on this rooftop with him, though—no, it’ll probably be some typical woman looking for a one-night stand, some easy picking, someone who knew Roman and wanted to fulfill a fantasy. He’d treat her to a night of great sex and then send her packing before the sun was up. That was what Roman would do. 

But he wasn’t Roman. His name was Joe.

Nessa takes off, throwing her body into the pool’s deep end. The water would splash around her, leaping out and onto the concrete Joe stood on. She would allow herself to sink briefly before swimming back to the top. Her head would break the surface as Nessa sucked air into her lungs. She lifts a hand, ridding her eyes of the salt water she floated in. Joe stood at the edge of the water, still watching her. 

“How’s it feel?” He asks, smiling slightly at her.

“Eh, it’s alright.” She answers. “It would probably be better if you got in.” She says, cutting her eyes up at him with a grin. She begins to float backward, allowing the giant man the space to jump in, all while still holding his gaze. She was like a mermaid trying to lure an unsuspecting victim into the water. “Take it off, take it off, take it off!” She cheers, causing Joe’s smile to grow in size.

“Alright, alright,” He says, waving his hand at her. “That’s enough of that.” He finishes, ridding himself of his shirt in an impressive one-arm swoop. Unashamedly, Nessa allows her eyes to take in the godly physique of the man standing before her. The arm tattoo had become an entire chest piece resembling armor, making him look as powerful as ever. He’s begun pushing his sweatpants down, revealing red briefs. Nessa would whistle at him, causing him to laugh and shyly turn away. “You’re making this extremely hard.” He says, no pun intended. 

“I’m just trying to hype you up.” She says with a grin. His hands go up to the bun on his head to remove his hair tie. Long black, wavy locks would drop, remaining pushed out of his face. He wrapped the hair tie around his wrist, now repeating the same steps Vanessa did. Joe backs up a few paces before charging at the pool. He leaps in, pulling his legs to his chest. His splash would be significantly larger, drenching his swimming partner in the escaping water. She’d squeal, turning to shield her face from the impact. 

Joe would pop back up, shaking the water from his hair like a dog. “Happy now?” He asks, splashing water at her with his arm. She turns to face him again, laughing softly at his playfulness. 

“Very,” She says, splashing him back. “The water suddenly feels a hell of a lot better.” She confesses. As time progressed, Nessa became increasingly flirtatious—again, she had the wine to thank for that. Joe would drift toward her, but she would drift away teasingly.

“Come here,” He requests.

“What is it?” She asks, floating back to him. Beneath the water, his arms would wrap around her, pulling her to his body. Her heart rate would soar at the feel of his hands on her body, causing her slight pain. She gasps softly in response before quickly recovering and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. They’d spin slowly, eyes watching eyes. Joe doesn’t say anything; he watches her silently through half-open eyes. There was a faint grin on his lips. “What?” She asks, hoping he’ll say something finally.

Being this close to him, having his hands on her like this, was suffocating in the best way for Nessa. The longer he remained silent, looking at her like this, the harder it was to breathe. She needed a sweet release only his words—his voice could give her right now. “You’re beautiful, Vanessa.” He says, using her full name for the first time. 

“I know.” She says before turning her head to laugh. “I’m sorry—I can’t take myself seriously.” She confesses. Her legs tangled with his the longer their spinning went on. Joe watched her with another fascinated grin on his face. 

“Hey,” He calls to her. The fingers on his right-hand curl against her skin, drawing her attention back to him. Her body responds to the action, making her press her body to his even more than it already was. “Thank you for coming to see me tonight.” He whispers. 

Her eyes lock onto his. “I’m happy I did.” She confesses. Her left-hand tangles in the back of his hair, scratching gently at his nape. He hums at the action, slowly tilting his head to the side. His eyes would venture down to her lips for only a second. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. Butterflies would fill Nessa at the question, her lips parting as she thought of an answer. “You can say no, I just—.” He pauses. “I’m acting off of feelings—.” Again, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. She presses her index finger to his lips, forcing him to stop talking.

“Shhh…” She says, moving her hand from his lips. She’d cup his jaw, her thumb caressing his cheekbone. “Kiss me, Joe.” She requests in a gentle tone. His dark eyes watched her for a second longer. She, just like him, was acting off feelings. If she was sober, this would be out of the question, but you know what they say: Drunk words are sober thoughts, and she wanted him. 

Joe leans in, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss started slow to gauge her feelings about it. Once she began to return it, then and only then did he pick up the tempo. His tongue would find hers, making her moan into the kiss. Remnants of the Cabaret Sauvignon they had drank coated their tongues. If possible, they’d get drunker off this kiss alone. They’d float back toward the pool wall, their mouths still attached. Once Joe’s back and her arm hit the wall, they’d break the kiss, both panting as an aftereffect of such an epic kiss. 

Nessa hovered over him, her eyes locked on his once more. She wanted more of him. Vanessa wanted kisses. She wanted touches. Nessa wanted to be groped, marked, to have her name breathed so sweetly in her ear as she drew any and every little moan from his body. It had been entirely too long since the last time she’d been interested in a man physically, mentally, and sexually. The opportunity was presenting itself, so she might as well seize it—and so she did.

The pair would pull each other together in another crushing kiss, sealing their fate for the night and moving forward. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I've been working on this damn chapter for what feels like forever (literally started it Sunday, I'm just impatient). I shouldn't be awake currently bc I have to work in 3 hours, but here I am...wide awake. The Capricorn in me never allows me to stop something once I finish it. I either will hyperfixate about it the rest of my day, or do something outrageous like stay up till 4 in the morning to finish a chapter. But now that it's finished, I will now slip into a slumber and be pissed off at myself later for doing this to myself lol

K. nighty night or good morning 😭

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