#like whenever he talks to ani that man gets down and is eye level with him

[kenobers]

what would a bat do | jason todd blurb

or jason finds you crying and decides to shoot first and ask questions later. gn!reader a/n: could be read as romantic or platonic

Jason is a lot like Bruce. He does not see this as a positive.

To be fair, "You're acting like Bruce" is the verbal equivalent of hitting below the belt for him and his siblings. Being compared to your parent is a devastating below in any sibling argument, but with their...respectively unique relationships with Bruce, it's downright lethal. Especially for Jason, who still hasn't found complete security with their father.

So, Jason only compares himself to Bruce with blinders on. He does it every time he snaps at someone just to get them off his case. He cringes every time he decides to go off the grid and shut everyone out instead of confronting his feelings. "You're acting like Bruce" echoes in his head as he draws a mental Venn diagram and desperately fills the opposing sides.

The worst is when he catches his reflection glowering back at him; if he had a nickel for every time he mistook it for Bruce sneaking up on him…

He only sees his father in himself when he's angry. When he's so blinded by the nauseating need for vengeance that the line between Hood and Bat start to blur. When all he can see is the mission. When he realizes just how much he’s chosen to isolate himself.

One of the reasons he hides as much of his face as possible is because then no one can tell him he looks just like a bat when he bares his teeth. He wears his emotions on his sleeve instead of leaving it to anyone's guess. He makes absolutely sure that there's no mistaking him for Batman.

All of this to mixed results, of course.

Because despite all of his valid issues with Bruce, deep down Jason knows that Bruce Wayne is still a good man.

And although he doesn’t quite realize it, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to admit that Bruce Wayne raised Jason Todd to be a good man.

Bruce is why Jason always holds the door open for the person behind him. Every time Jason buys a coffee, he pays for the next handful of customers, something he consistently watched Bruce do. Whenever a child talks to him, Jason always crouches to their eye level…that’s Bruce too.

That’s not to give Mr. Wayne too much credit. Jason Todd has had a good heart from the moment he was born. He never needed anyone to tell him to leave the world a better place than he found it. Just because he has an anomalous method of doing so doesn’t make that any less true.

But there are certain things, instincts, that Bruce cemented in his mind. Like knowing when to ask questions first and when to ask them later.

Like when he finds you crying just now.

He’d sent you a text earlier in the day. Something completely unrelated to your well being, something incredibly unimportant actually. Still, your lack of response made him anxious, so he went to check on you. Just to make sure you weren't, like, dead or something.

There's a split second of awkward silence as you both stare at one another. But you hardly have time to wipe your tears and blubber out, "Oh, hey, what's up," before Jason's engulfing you in a bear hug.

That's when you know you don't need to hold it together. That's when you know it's safe to completely fall apart.

Jason doesn't need to ask questions just yet. You don't need him asking questions. You both know he'll get answers, whether from you or his own investigation. For now he'll stay quiet, sans a few whispered comforts. He could try being a man of many words. He’s more than capable of waxing poetics. It’s just that he knows he can come across as mean and abrasive, even when he’s trying to be kind and soft.

Another way he’s like Bruce.

Nevertheless, he’s got two big strong arms that can speak for him. They’ve got you. They’ll protect you from whatever’s got you feeling like this.

One large hand anchors you to him. It holds you steady as your body shakes with sobs. The other cradles your head, every so often moving to pat your back whenever you hiccup.

You can hide your face in his chest. Ride along with the subtle rise and fall of it. Let the gentle sound of his heart beat drown out the sound of your stressors. He doesn’t care about the damp spot you’re leaving on his shirt. He just cares about you.

Jason is a rock, an absolute pillar of a human being. He can stand there for as long as you need. He can support your weight and hold you up if you’re too exhausted to do it yourself.

When you decide that you want to talk about it, then he tries to be all ears. He sits you on the couch and wraps an arm around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. Occasionally, his thumb drifts up to wipe your stray tears away.

He listens as best he can. He definitely would've dealt with your issue differently if he were you. In a different era, he would've let you know exactly what he would do - more likely, he would've just gone and done it for you. But he can recognize that this is probably a healthier way to deal with whatever upset you. And you know what, he can respect that too.

After you've vented until there's nothing left to say, Jason stays with you. It's that nagging voice that tells him that he has to make sure you're really okay, that you're not about to do something stupid as soon as he takes his eyes off you. After all, that's what he would do.

So he puts something on the tv. A show, a movie, a YouTube compilation, video essay - something he knows you like. He doesn't look away from you the entire time. He sits at the ready to catch any stray tears or soothe any sudden bursts of rage.

Until you fall asleep on his shoulder. He sits like that for another few minutes before he finally transfers you to your bed, tucking you in with so much care. The only sound he makes is a sharp gasp when he catches his reflection in your window.

Then he sits some more, still watching you closely. He watches until he's certain you're sound asleep, ignorant to the things that hurt you.

Then he slips out the window without a peep, off to get your justice.

That's exactly what Bruce would do.

[tiza0925]

Like Honey | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, alcohol, tipsy!reader, squirting, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk!Sakusa, overstimulation, praise kink, bit of pussy slapping ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Kiyoomi Sakusa hates parties. 

Too many people. 

Too loud. 

Too many germs. 

It’s why he almost always declines to go to one whenever the rest of the MSBY team invites him along. 

Parties in any shape and form make him uncomfortable, to be honest. 

But what Sakusa hates more than parties themselves—is the idea of you going to one on your own without him there. 

Not that he doesn’t trust you. 

But it’s that he knows how volleyball players are at parties—especially when there’s a pretty girl and alcohol is involved. 

Hence, the reason why he finds himself at a house party tonight that Atsumu invited the two of you to—while he stands away from everyone else, mask on, and holding a drink that he’s taken maybe one or two sips from. 

Not because he wants to but—

But because there you are—in the crowd, giggling and drinking with a few other people—and he watches with a level of affection, only ever giving any other guy who even dares to touch you a single look that causes the hairs at the back of their neck to rise. 

He talks to a few friends here and there, laughs, and takes another drink to loosen up as much as he’s willing to allow himself, but his eyes remain on you—

Almost protective. 

He raises a brow when he notices you walking over to him—but all you do is grin, eyes droopy, as your lower lip gets pinched under your top teeth, and—

Oh. 

He lets out a huff of breath filled with amusement when he sees you bat your lashes at him, giving him a certain look that he knows too well whenever you have alcohol in your system. 

A look of want—need—with your eyes so murky with desire that if you looked at any other man like that, they’d probably take you to the nearest surface to bend you over and—

Well, you get the point. 

Sakusa turns to face you—looking down at you with a tease in his voice. “The alcohol already gotten to that pretty little brain of yours?” 

Your eyes grow alight with want, and your cheeks flush as you get closer to him to wrap your arms around his waist—and a pout adorns your red lips. “I’m only a little tipsy.” 

That’s a lie. 

He can see that right away with how foggy your eyes are and how red your cheeks are. 

You’re more than just a little tipsy. 

Not that he minds, though. 

In fact, he’s letting out a breath of relief as he holds you back with one arm, the other still holding his drink, and he lowers his head so only you can hear him—his voice coming out a low rumble, “Let’s go then, love.” 

Because whenever you’re like this—it gives him an excuse to leave. 

To go home and take care of you in a way that he knows what you need right now. 

You nod, eager, excitement shooting up your nerves as he guides you through crowds of people—him saying bye to those he gives a shit about, and—

And that’s how, about an hour later, you end up back at his apartment—his bedroom door locked—as your body sinks into his plush mattress, one of your hands carding through his silk-softened hair that’s nestled between your thighs. 

“Fuck—”

You suck in a shaky breath as a flat tongue runs from your entrance to your clit, and you whine as Sakusa hooks his arms under your thighs to bring your pussy flush against his mouth—his mask thrown off somewhere in the midst of you two kissing so deeply on your way here—and he spits on your clit, making your cunt pulse. 

“You’re always so wet when you drink,” Sakusa groans against you, his mouth covering your entire pussy as his jaw goes to work, sucking and eating you out like he's starved. 

Just the way you like it when you’re this tipsy—the alcohol making you pleasantly warm, mixed with how his tongue and mouth feel on you.

It’s like you’re drowning in a pool of liquid heat as he makes out with your cunt, his tongue dipping in and running through your pillowy folds, and all you can do is lay there and take it with your toes curling and your fingers digging in his hair. 

It’s funny when you really think about it.

One would think that he—of all people—would be against this. 

Grossed out by it, even. 

But he’s the complete opposite with you in bed and behind closed doors.

He’s fucking dirty—uncaring of how messy he gets as your fluids gush onto his face as he fucks you with his tongue, eating your pussy and licking your clit like it’s honey. 

He even likes it more when you’re fucking yourself back—riding his face—making his eyes roll back, eyebrows furrowed, and a groan being muffled against your soft pussy. 

He doesn’t care about the way his chin gets drenched from your juices—not when it means he can hear you moan so pretty for him, and feel your plush thighs squeeze around his head. 

He’s so intoxicated by having his hot tongue in your cunt that he finds himself growing light-headed—his bulge growing and pre-cum leaking against his sweatpants as he licks and licks until you’re cumming on his tongue, moaning his name as you buck your hips into his face. 

“Oh god—Omi, ‘ts too much now—”

He hears you. 

Loud and clear. 

But he doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop giving your poor, puffy little clit kitten licks as your cry from overstimulation. 

He doesn’t stop holding onto your thighs right where they are—keeping your pussy close to his mouth so he can lap you up, not wanting to waste a single drop of your fluids drooling everywhere. 

“You’re okay,” His voice is rough, and his eyes move up to look at your body—taking in the way your chest is rising and falling with quick breaths, your nipples are hard and waiting to also be sucked on—and he gives your sopping cunt one long, wide glide of his wet tongue from bottom to top. “Just give me one more, baby. Just one.” 

Instead, it’s never only one more. 

Once he’s in this position with his stomach flat on the bed and comfortably lying in between your legs—

Sakusa doesn’t intend to stop anytime soon. 

You taste too fucking good.

You feel too warm. 

And you sound so damn needy and pretty for him.

You whine, a sob escaping you, and you shake your head. “Omi—please—”

But then your words die with a gasp when you feel him nip the curve of the skin of where your cunt and inner thigh meet—and you let out a ragged exhale, his voice thick and smooth as he kisses your thigh. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” You feel so dizzy from the heat that you throw an arm over your forehead, panting as you feel two of his fingers strum your dripping folds before spreading them apart, glistening and throbbing. “You know I can’t help it.” 

He doesn’t let you say anything else, though. 

Not when he immediately dives back in to prod his tongue into your tight walls, flexing and curling it to bring you back to that hot, buzzing ache in your belly. 

And he keeps your folds open for him to get drunk on—sucking and licking and nipping while his nose bumps against your clit, feeling his hairs tickle your thighs as he gets you to orgasm again. 

And again. 

And again—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Omi!” 

He gets his tongue all worked up, mouth open and thumb rubbing your swollen clit until you’re cumming for the fourth time like this—fluids squirting on his face as your abused and soaked cunt spasms, his name on your tongue as you cry, and he drinks it all up like he’s needy for your taste. 

“Such a good pussy, baby,” Sakusa sucks on your clit with obscene suction noises, making tears stream down your cheeks as a few more spurts of liquid squirt out of you—you’re so fucking overstimulated—and his face is a mess at this point, too. 

When he eventually does pull away—his lips are swollen and shiny—you don’t even have it in you to force your limbs to move anymore. 

You’re so fucked out and he hasn’t even put his cock inside you yet.

“You took it all so well for me.” 

Sakusa looks down at your body—so sweet and perfect—and he can’t help but smile at the little mess he’s made between your legs. 

He then unties the strings to his sweatpants as he sits back on his knees, his dick throbbing to feel your pussy swallow him, and once his thick cock bounces free—

He gives your pussy a slap—his palm against it with a harsh sting—making you whimper, then cups his hand over you as some way to soothe your tired cunt. 

“I just need you to lie there and be pretty for me now, okay baby?” 

end.

Masterpost

[poguehearted77]

rafe with pogue!reader with a mouth. she’s so sweet unless you don’t deserve it. and we all know rafe has done some things to get him in the dog house. she’s not afraid to put anyone in their place. but he finds that bending her over id the best way to shut her up.

mmfff. I love this ask.

Pairing: Sweet Girl! Reader x Rafe Cameron

a/n: answering some requests bc i'm finally back lolll

Rafe considers himself a lucky man to have a girlfriend like you--the luckiest, some would say, and he wouldn't disagree. You're sweet, kind, empathetic and probably too good for him if he's being honest.

You're the girl who bakes fresh bread and brings it to the nursing home on the weekends and volunteers her time at the local food banks whenever you have the chance.

It's a stark contrast to your stone-cold boyfriend who was rarely caught smiling in the presence of others except for his closest friends, but even they had a hard time making plans with him.

He's hard to get a hold of, and no one understands that more than you do at this moment. You're currently sitting at the elegantly set table in a reserved section of the Italian restaurant Rafe had booked just for the two of you.

Your diamond-embroidered watch which was a valentines gift from your overbearing boyfriend receives another frustrated glance from your intense stare. With precision the minute hand strikes, signifying the top of the hour and the end of your patience.

You couldn't believe Rafe had stood you up, despite your efforts to call him and the few gentle reminders you sent to his number. They were all in vain.

"Would you like more bread, ma'am?" The waiter comes back for what you guess is the fourth time in the last twenty minutes. Your cheeks rose over at the repeated question, realizing you'd have to admit that there was no one joining you any time soon.

"No, I'm alright thank you. Just the check will be fine." Your words paint a perplexed expression on the waiter's face before he visibly understands what's happened.

The waiter is sweet when he returns with the bill, "He's an idiot."

You didn't quite catch what he whispered under his breath, "Pardon?" His shoulders relax as a small smile graces his lips, "The guy's an idiot for standing you up." It's said thoughtfully, not with any ulterior motives, and you agree, feeling what was just surface-level disappointment morph into a simmering bitterness.

Rafe was going to deal with a bitch at home.

-

You found yourself stirring your freshly blended smoothie behind the kitchen island as Rafe continued his desperate attempts to get back in your good graces. "I'm so sorry, baby. The meeting went long and I couldn't get out of it." His hand tries to wrap around your waist from behind and you smack him away.

"Don't even, Rafe." The words come out through clenched teeth. He's startled but not surprised. He's seen this side of you before, though only once when a rude cashier had been insulting to your mother at the store.

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? The meeting ran longer than-" You don't even give him a chance to finish when you interrupt, "Oh my god, Rafe. Leave me alone!" You scoff, trying to push past him with your drink in hand but he holds you at the waist, cautiously taking the cup from you and placing it on the counter behind him.

He holds a stern gaze as he talks down to you: "Listen, I get it. You're upset, but you're not even giving me a chance to expl-" He tries to reason with you, but you don't want to hear it from him.

"Shut Up." You make dead eye contact, his towering height not intimidating you in the slightest. You're pissed off and now Rafe is too. Within the blink of an eye Rafe had you pinned down to the cool marble of the island with an arm behind your back.

"Ow~ Rafe!" You whine and he chuckles. "M'sorry baby. Am I hurting you?" He tightens the hold he has on your pinned arm, pressing his hips into the fat of your ass giving you a vivid understanding of where your attitude was taking you.

"You're such a fucking-" With his other hand he forces your head back down against the counter roughly but making sure not to hurt you. "Don't you dare." He warns from behind and you bite your tongue at the harsh tone he was using. He was not in the mood to play around.

"I'm sick of you avoiding me. I'm tryna talk to you-- tell you I'm sorry and you're not fuckin' listening." He curses as he lets your arm go, now moving its way under your dress the caress your ass.

He leaned forward, ensuring the breath of his words would tickle the shell of your ear as he spoke. "Such a shame too, you're usually such a good listener. A good girl." An icy chill runs down your spine as you feel him flip up the fabric of your dress.

There's a laugh, one of amusement.

"No panties? Thought I was supposed to be going to dinner with my girlfriend, not a whore." Your lip is tucked between your teeth when you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. "Huh? Where's all your backtalk now, dollface?" You whine, arching your back up against your boyfriend.

"Rafe please-" He doesn't let you beg before he's sliding himself between your soaked folds, letting himself be overcome by the wet, hot sensation of your contracting walls. "Tell me you forgive me," He all but purrs in your ear. His words paired with the way his cock stretched you so good, you almost said it.

Almost.

"Fuck you."

He made you eat those words. The way he pistoned his hips into yours over and over with no remorse filled the kitchen with the lewd sounds of flesh against flesh. Your acrylics scratched against the marble tops desperately searching for something to hold on to.

"Say it." He grits and you shake your head, pathetic moans slipping with each thrust he gives you. "N-no!" He angles his hips, the head of his cock perfectly hitting the sweet spot. "Oh fuck- Rafe! I'm-"

"I won't let you finish until you say it-"

"I forgive you, fuck! I forgive you. Let me cum, please please-"

He gives you everything you need to stumble over the edge of ecstasy and more, he finishes soon after you. His weight leaning on your back, feeling his chest heave as he catches his breath.

"The waiter called you an idiot, you know." You mumble, cheek still pressed against the counter. "I am an idiot. I'm sorry, baby. Let's put this gorgeous dress to good use and let me make it up to you."

[mrpenguinpants]

Sakura, did they...set off your romance sensor?

—  "Oh, listen, this boy here…whenever he senses anything romantic…he goes beet red in the face!!" - Tasuku Tsubakino (Ch.66)

— Hayato Suo, Hajime Umemiya, Jo Togame

[Masterlist]

Wow, my windbreaker brain rot has shot me into a whole new timeline where I can sit down and write. Not gonna lie, not my favorite but it is what it is. I've beat my first fic for a fandom nerves.

Hajime Umemiya

When Umemiya had called a rooftop meeting, Sakura had been through them enough to know what to expect. Umemiya would either show up late or be completely off-topic until someone, mostly Hiragi, stepped in to direct the meeting to its actual purpose. Most of the time, the distractions would be on his plants or his giddy plans of having another barbeque with everyone. It used to be annoying, Sakura once believed the reason why Umemiya was so unserious was because he didn't care. But he knows better now than to take that carefree smile on the surface level. Deep down, Umemiya is a great leader who knows when it's time to get serious.

But this...

Sakura's cheeks are already turning pink.

This is a bit too much for him. He hasn't leveled up enough for this.

"The Three Sisters is a method of gardening that involves planting corn, beans, and squash together. The corn provides support for the beans and squash, the beans add nitrogen to the soil, and the squash's sprawling vines create shade and discourage pests too. It's really quite fascinating, don't you think so Ume?" you ask, lightly petting the leaves of his most recent tomato plant sprout. Your eyes downcasted as you thumb away bits of dirt that happened to be blown by the wind onto the greenery. Perhaps it's because you're one of the few people who entertain Umemiya's rapid obsession with his garden, even going out of your way to tell him facts to better his plot and compliment him on his efforts. Heck, Sakura has seen Umemiya crying because Nirei has told him that his saplings look bigger each time. While Sakura does not doubt that those feelings and expressions were genuine, the look Umemiya is giving you, a look you're not even seeing, feels different. Umemiya himself is different.

"Yeah..." Umemiya responds in a soft tone, his voice almost a whisper. Their usually talkative leader who won't shut up for half a second, who talks over people, is currently so distracted that it's kind of embarrassing watching him. He's been staring at you, eyes zeroing in on your fingers as they brush against the leaves, almost entranced by the sight. Sakura would give anything to leave right now, this second-hand embarrassment is too much. Luckily, Umemiya finally seems to register that you and he aren't alone despite the fact he was the one who called the meeting in the first place. His head perks up confused, hands on top of his knees, as he's greeted with varying expressions from his grade captains. Hiragi in particular looks like he's having both a stomach ache and the urge to slap the back of Umemiya's head. The urge is only partially restrained when you also look up, sending them all a little wave. Hiragi isn't going to slug Umemiya if you're there to see it, it's the pride of a man to not get beaten up in front of his crush.

"Oh shoot, you're all here already? Why didn't you say anything?" Umemiya whines, standing up while dusting his pants free of any lingering dirt. He extends a hand to you, not before rubbing his palm furiously on the back of his shirt, to help you up, "I'll see you later?"

"Mm, sure. Good luck with your new sprouts. Remember to remove the bottom leaves once the plants are over 3 feet tall. I'll be upset if they develop fungus issues," you pat Umemiya's cheek gently, ignoring the way that Umemiya completely melts openly at the gesture. You turn to nod at the rest of them, offering another wave goodbye, as you pass them to exit the rooftop. The resounding sound of the door closing finally sets them back on track.

"We did," Hiragi speaks up as soon the vibrations in the air fizzle out with an exasperated expression, referring back to Umemiya's first question, "You were too busy staring. We've been here for almost ten minutes, you idiot."

"Sorry, sorry, my bad," Umemiya laughs easily, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Although he's been clearly called out, Umemiya doesn't seem the slightest bit ruffled. Sure, he looks a little bashful but Sakura doubts that he'll tone it back much to the embarrassment of any onlooker. Maybe one day, he'll be able to look that happy with his own feelings on display.

A sudden clap has Sakura jolting back to reality, Umemiya's loud voice returning back to something familiar, "Now then, come sit! I prepared some snacks for us all to share."

Everyone else seems used to Umemiya's behavior and they easily follow him, completely disregarding your and Umemiya's interactions as if they never happened. Sakura doesn't really get it but if everyone else is unbothered, it'd be seriously uncool if he said anything. He lets out a sigh, whatever. It's none of his business anyway.

"Sakura, why are you blushing?" Nirei, the bastard, pipes up behind him. Suo, the even worst bastard, laughs behind his hand like he's some rich Victorian lady.

"Huh, no I- I'm not." Sakura's cheeks went from pink to red, now that he's been caught. He looks away, avoiding eye contact, "S-Shut the hell up!"

Hayato Suo

"Mr. Customer, if you're dissatisfied with our menu, you're more than welcome to leave."

Sakura blinks, head jerking up as he crosses the threshold of Café Pothos. Initially, he assumed those words were directed at him even though it wouldn't make sense. He quite likes the menu despite only ordering the same thing each time. But no, when Sakura looks up it's to a rather unexpected sight. Suo sits at the bar counter, back ram-rod straight and his hands folded in his lap, with that ever-pleasant smile on his lips. Across from him stands a worker Sakura has never seen before. He always assumed that Kotoha was the only employee, but today seems to be full of surprises. A green apron with white ties, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and hands fisted against the hips.

"The bakery across the street would love to hear your complaints, Mr. Customer."

---

There is something about the new worker and Suo that keeps Sakura glancing back at them after he's sat himself in a secluded corner. Perhaps it's because it's a new face he has yet to meet at a place he frequents so often. It's normal to be curious right? Or maybe it's Suo being here alone. He's never seen the man "out in the wild" before. They aren't even looking at him, Suo hadn't even looked up when he first opened the door although Sakura is sure that Suo is aware of him. He's creepy like that. The new worker, however, whips an annoyed glance at Suo before letting out an irritated huff, arms crossing over the green apron, and glaring down at Suo’s smiling face. A face that would remain ever-pleasant in any given situation.

Regardless...

"Is this your version of service? It must be hard on the customer," Suo chuckles, a slight tilt of his head that bounces his tassel earring. Suo's laugh, however, causes Sakura to feel a hint of surprise. It's not a laugh he expects the man to give, yet at the same time, it suits him.

"That's because you're a terrible customer and a pain in the ass." The worker sneers, leaning in so the two of them are face to face.

Suo seems to be difficult for anyone to handle.

"It's busy today," Kotoha says, appearing out of thin air and scaring Sakura half to death. A plate of steaming omurice slides in front of him because he really does only order one thing here. It's not a great conversation starter, but it's nice of her to break the odd tension that has settled over the cafe. Kotoha is also looking to the side, watching the scene of her co-worker and Suo bickering and arguing. Passive aggressive comments are being flown out, scathing remarks padded with polite voices, so much so that the two of you don't seem to register anyone else around. Completely wrapped up in your world of irritation versus amusement.

"What…are they even arguing about?" Sakura chances to ask, his eyes still glued to the curve of Suo's smile, red eye focused solely on you. His hand idly reaches for his spoon, scooping up a bit of rice and egg, yet it hovers in the air ideally. Suo has his head tilted and is leaning somewhat in the worker's space. His eyes don't stray, watching each shift in facial expression carefully to gauge whether his words are having their intended effect. He looks like he's having way too much fun.

"Oh, that." Kotoha giggles, placing her palm on the table. She too looks like she's having way too much fun, "They always go back and forth like that. It's like a game of cat and mouse with those two. They're both stubborn as hell so it's a constant power struggle between them. Although, I wonder what they're arguing about this time. They always bicker at each other when we change shifts."

Kotoha shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She glances briefly at Sakura before her eyes drift back to the other two. She raises her hand, finally cutting the bubble between you and Suo.

"Hey, I'm back from break. Thanks for covering for me," she calls, waving her hand in the air. The frown that was permanently on your face melts away when you break eye contact with Suo, returning to a more neutral blank look. You only nod to Kotoha, flashing up a thumbs-up, and you move to head back to the kitchen. But not before sticking your tongue out at Suo over your shoulder as you disappear through the doorway. Sakura blinked surprised, he had somewhat expected a different reaction than something so...tame. His eyes drift to Suo and he can feel his cheeks heat up.

He doesn't think he's seen Suo look happier.

Jo Togame

"See, you peel off the seal on the cap. Remove the ring from the little plastic piece you use to push the marble. Then, with your thumb, press down, and poof, the marble drops and you can enjoy!" you grin as you move slowly for Sakura to see your hands with each instruction. The fizz of carbonation and the clink of the marble hitting the glass amplified louder in the abandoned auditorium. A few other shishitoren members are loitering, but only you and Sakura are sitting up on the edge of the stage. After the embarrassment of not knowing how to open the ramune Togame had given him, he sought you out to explain it to him. Sakura didn't think he could stomach it if he went back to Togame again for help. He follows your movement, his fingers removing the thin seal. Popping the ring off the marble pusher, and with his thumb, pushes on the marble. His thumb slips a few times, but you're patient as you coax him to try again. With his third attempt, he feels the marble give, the rewarding sound of bubbles popping.

"Thanks..." Sakura mumbles, a faint blush on his cheeks as you cheer your ramune's together as you take a swig.

"No problem," you say nonchalantly, leaning your weight back on your arms. With the bottle held in your hand, you watch Sakura, who is intently staring at the drink on his own. The silence between you isn't exactly uncomfortable, but you can sense the slight embarrassment oozing off him. "Soooo... how's it taste?"

He gives a soft hum before taking a small sip, the fizzy liquid leaving a tingling sensation on his tongue. It's not as sweet as he thought it’d be. It's rather subtle for a soda. He takes a longer sip this time, the fizz tickling his nose and bubbles popping against his lip. Looking at you sidelong, he can see you already staring at him excitedly. You weren't kidding when you said you were a big fan of this.

"It's sweet, I guess," his voice soft as he shrugs. A few strands of his white hair fell in front of his face. His eyes glance up at you as you stare at him intently, waiting for him to continue. He awkwardly bites the inside of his cheek. It still feels weird having people who actually want to hear his opinion, even if it's as small as a drink. "A bit strange… The flavor is nice, but the fizz is new."

He takes another sip, careful with the angle he tilts the bottle lest the marble block the opening. He doesn't really understand the appeal of the marble. It's a nuisance. The fizz was the best part of the soda, but the clinking made it impossible to drink it quietly. Besides, he holds the ramune bottle out, how the hell do you even get it out? Does he need to throw it against a wall to break the bottle? He doesn't want to get broken glass everywhere since someone could accidentally step on it.

"Is the marble irritating you?" you ask, laughing quietly under your breath to not set Sakura off into another tomato-faced explosion.

"No!" he answers with a quick hiss, cheeks flushing. He can feel you stare at him as a smirk dances across your lips. He can already envision the teasing you’re concocting to make him react. He gives another soft huff, refusing to look at you, as he fidgets with the bottle. He doesn't want to ask you to help again. He already feels like a helpless idiot. Instead of commenting, you swing yourself upwards, planting your hand on your knee. The other hand, wrapped around the bottle, moves to your lips as you down the rest of your drink. The fizz of bubbles pops in the air while Sakura looks at you bewildered. Weren't you supposed to drink carbonated drinks slowly or you'll stomach hurt? Did you become immune or something from drinking so many?

"Come on, let's go. I still haven't finished my ramune 101 class," you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, winking over your shoulder which sends Sakura into another pink mess, as you slide off the stage.

"W- What do you mean we’re not done?" he stammers quickly, flustered as he scrambles up to follow you. He feels a bit dizzy from going from a sitting position to standing too quickly. He grips the bottle in his hand and takes a few quick steps to catch up to you as you stride to the doors leading outside the auditorium. You laugh again when he rushes to catch up. His quick reaction time betrays his small stature. It's kinda cute.

"It means I'm gonna teach you how to get the damn marble out, genius" you tease, shoving his shoulder as you reach the doors. Opening them, the two of you were met with the cool outside air. It's refreshing after being indoors for so long and the auditorium has gotten you both hot and stuffy. Hence the initial ramune drinks. You quickly take his hand, ignoring the screams, as you drag Sakura to the side of the building. "Togame! Are you sleeping still?"

"Huh?" a tired voice answers groggily from the other side of the wall. Togame is sitting on the ground next to the wall with his back against the auditorium. He has his legs stretched out, his head leaning back on the wall, rubbing his eyes to clear the ever-constant droop in his eyes. He looks as if he is napping before being rudely interrupted, "I was..."

"Oops. Hehe, sorry," you chuckle, hands raised up in a mock surrender although you don't particularly look apologetic. To be fair, Togame doesn't look upset either. Only gives you and Sakura a sleepy smile and nods as he raises his arm high to stretch. His green eyes drifted to the bottles of ramune in your hands with a curious tilt of the chin. In response, you beam at him, rattling the marble inside the glass bottle before handing it to him. "Please, if you could."

Togame snorts as he takes the bottle. There's a hint of playfulness in his tired eyes as he shakes the bottle a few times, letting the marble inside thump against the glass. It's funny watching the marble rattle around. It reminds him of a little toy marble maze he had as a child. He flicks his gaze to look at Sakura, who stands off to the side stiffly. The poor kid looks ready to bolt at any second when given an opening. His own half-finished bottle lays limply in his hand, the marble reflecting off the sun's light.

"You know you just have to twist the cap in the opposite direction right?" he says, wrapping his fingers around the blue lid and twisting the cap off. Turning the bottle over, he catches the marble from the opening into the palm of his hand. He extends his hand, sliding the marble into your waiting ones. "I know you're strong enough to do that."

"Yeah, but my hands get cramps and it's impossible to move it!"

"I don't think that's how that works...But if it really is too hard, you can keep coming to me."

Sakura stands by, feeling out of place as you go back and forth with Togame. Yet, he doesn't feel like an intruder this time, merely an observer. He looks down at his own bottle, hands moving to twist the cap off while making sure he doesn't spill the drink.

It's easy. It pops right off with barely any effort. Sakura has quite literally seen you throw a man double your size over your shoulder.

The marble reflects his face messily, but there's a shine of red glinting off the surface.

[jmliebert]

♡ Halsin Being Love Smitten by an Oblivious Tav ♡

Oh, this is a good one. Halsin — strong, confident, experienced — brought to his knees by one thing he never saw coming: your sheer, unrelenting obliviousness. It’s hard to make him baffled, but you did. You actually made him baffled. Incredible. 

He’s lived for over three centuries. Seen countless wonders, taken many lovers, and faced horrors that would break lesser souls. Nothing has caught him off guard for the longest time it would seem. And yet you have. Because somehow, despite his very clear interest, his smoothest moves, and his voice dropping into that deep purr — you simply don’t get it. Not one bit. 

And by Oak Father, it really do baffles him. 

You see, he feels it every time you walk by — a rush of warmth in his chest, the unshakable need to be near you. He listens to your every word, even your stillest ramblings, with rapt attention, laughing easily and freely in a way he hasn’t in years. It feels good to be close to you. It feels right. And he’s wise enough to know exactly what that means. He is, without doubt, utterly and completely love smitten with you… and Halsin is many things, but shy is not one of them. So naturally — he courts you. 

At first, subtly, slowly… intending to take full pleasure from getting to know you better in that kind of way. A lingering touch here, a playful tease there, a deep-chested chuckle whenever you say something endearing. Surely you’ll catch on. 

You do not. 

You smile at him. You laugh, you listen, you seem happy to be around him. But not once — not once! — you show any sign of realising that he likes you more than a friend. (oh, so much more)

Is he being too subtle? Surely not. Halsin is experienced. He’s seen things. He’s been with partners who could read his desires from a single glance, and here he is — flexing like a fool whenever you so much as glance in his direction, hoping you’ll notice. 

And Oak Father help him, he’s trying so hard. It’s like he isn’t himself anymore. He feels like a young pup wandering into unknown territory. 

So… he finds excuses to touch you. Offers a steadying hand when crossing a stream (as if you’re not perfectly capable), lets his large hands linger on your waist a fraction too long when lifting you over an obstacle. Getting all worked up from the mere brush of your knees. 

One day Halsin brings you fruit he’s foraged with a casual,

"If you desire more, I am always at your service.”

"You really do take good care of everyone," you say, eyes shining with pure, unshaken obliviousness. The words he wants to say—I would much rather focus my care on you specifically—catch in his throat, swallowed down by a sigh. Somehow, faced with your innocence, he just can’t bring himself to say it.

Has he lost his touch? Is he truly so out of practice? He has never worked this hard to make his feelings known. And worse—he’s starting to feel things he hasn’t in years. Frustration, longing, an almost feral urge to just grab you by the shoulders and tell you outright.

By the gods, he is horny and in distress. And he’s been horny many times, but in distress like this? No. However… Halsin is not a man who simply gives up. Not to doubt, not to hesitation—and certainly not when it comes to you. Not when he’s waited lifetimes to feel this way again. Not when he’s finally met someone who stirs the very roots of his being.

So, no more subtlety, no more lingering touches. No more charming lines that you so sweetly misunderstand. One evening, with all the weight of a man on the brink, he levels you with a look, strong arms crossed over his chest, and says in a tone that leaves no room for interpretation:

“Tav. We need to talk. And this time, I’ll make sure you understand exactly what I mean.”

Because by the Oak Father, if you don’t realise how desperately he wants you after this conversation—he might just lose his mind.

So he takes you away—away from the crackling campfire, from the idle chatter of your companions, from the weight of the world pressing down on both of you. He leads you to a quiet, secluded glade where the trees arch overhead like ancient sentinels. The stars shimmer above, casting silver light over everything, but Halsin?

Halsin is radiant.

He stands before you, broad and strong, his golden skin illuminated by moonlight. There’s something different in the way he looks at you now—an intensity, a quiet, unshaken resolve. And then, in a voice deep as the earth itself, he speaks:

"I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine…”

Your breath stutters. Your eyes widen, because suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The lingering touches. The flirtation you had brushed off as simple kindness. The way his gaze always seemed to find you, the way his presence felt like a steady force in your current life, constant and unwavering. It was never just friendliness. It was never just admiration.

It was this.

It was him wanting you.

The weight of his words sinks into you, slow and heavy like honey pouring thick from a jar. He isn’t teasing. He isn’t jesting—Halsin is far too earnest for that. His kindness, his unwavering dedication, have only blurred the truth for you. But now, there is no mistaking it. There’s no lightheartedness in his tone—only intention. Only want.

The words roll off his tongue like a promise, rich with meaning, with want. His voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it—an unmistakable need. His hand lifts, slow, deliberate, as if he’s savouring every second before he touches you. And when he does—when his large, calloused palm finally cups your cheek—your breath catches.

His warmth is immediate, grounding, real. He’s so close now—too close, not close enough. His golden eyes search yours, darkened with something primal, something deep and unspoken. He’s looking for something—truth. An answer. A silent permission for this moment to become something more.

And gods, the air between you is alive with it. 

Will you give it to him?

That choice—that power—is yours.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

again, thanks for this lovely request

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡ hihi

[sugarplum217]

The Fire We Make (Part Two)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Female/Plus Size/Curvy Reader, MDNI

Warnings: very heavy smut, unprotected sex, nasty & dirty talk, mention’s of abuse, triggering topics, not suitable for anyone under 18+, oral sex, sort of a slow burn, casual sex, fluff, use of the N word, AAVE, somewhat age gap relationship, mentions of verbal abuse, use of abusive lanuage, alcohol usage, mentions of female masturbation, mentions of sexual assault and drug use, oral sex (female recieving) please

Authors Note: Please excuse any errors or mistakes, I hope you enjoy and please be kind.

Summary: You were supposed to be focused, handling your Nana’s last wishes, getting this house in order, and most importantly, staying out of trouble. But how the hell were you supposed to do that when trouble was six-foot-something, built like a sin, and living under the same damn roof? Terry was already making it hard to keep your thoughts pure, but when a little liquor enters the mix? Whew. The lines start blurring, the tension gets thicker, and suddenly, the two of you are toeing a line that neither of you might be ready to cross. But with confessions spilling, dangerous heat rising, and that fine ass man looking at you like he’s ready to ruin your whole damn world… staying away? Yeah. That might not be an damn option anymore.

You always knew your Nana had a funny way of doing things, but damn, you didn’t expect her to leave you damn near lost in the sauce when it came to handling her last wishes. You swore this woman had an aversion to clear instructions. You should’ve known better. Nana never wrote shit down, not a recipe, not a schedule, not even a damn grocery list. Everything she did was off instinct. She’d always tell you, “Baby, just follow your heart. It’ll lead you where you need to go.” That was cute and all, but what the hell was your heart supposed to do when you were knee deep in paperwork, fighting through legal vocabulary, and trying to make sure her precious land didn’t end up in the wrong hands?

You’d spent the past few days drowning in documents, back-and-forth phone calls with a bunch of old Southern men who thought you were just some clueless city girl, and running errands that felt like they had no end in sight. On top of all that, you had to deal with a whole grown-ass man—a man that was so damn fine he had your hormones setting up camp in your ovaries and throwing a block party every time he walked in the room.

This random-ass nigga Terry, the so-called “helper” who was supposed to be here to assist you, was doing the complete opposite. This man was a walking sexual healing, word to Marvin Gaye. The shit was becoming ridiculous. Your pussy damn near fell through your panties every single time he walked by.

Broad ass shoulders, arms cut like he was hand-carved by the gods, abs that looked like they belonged on a sculpture in a museum. And that face? Whew. That was a whole different kind of fine. I mean, not the kind of fine you run across too many times in life. Terry had one of them strong, grown man faces, sharp jaw, full lips, and for godsake those unique colored eyes that held a storm behind them. He looked like he had a past, like he’d been through some dangerous shit, like he was the type to handle business when necessary. In other words, he looked like the kind of trouble you had no business entertaining. Especially not in the frame of mind you were in, for crying out loud you were still technically grieving. But the way your body reacted? The way your thighs clenched every time his deep ass voice hit your ears? The way your nipples betrayed you whenever he got too close? Yeah… this wasn’t just simple attraction. This was some next level, soul-stirring, I need to be baptized immediately type of undeniable lust.

The sun had been on demon time all damn day. You swore the devil himself had blown his hot-ass breath straight onto the state. It wasn’t just hot—it was disrespectfully hot. The type of heat that made the air stifling and thick as well as made your skin sticky. Had you questioning if you should just go lay down and let Jesus take the wheel. At the moment you were currently outside, sitting on the porch, trying not to pass out from heat stroke. Your leopard-print Fashion Nova romper wasn’t doing much to keep you cool—it was thin and barely there, clinging to your curves like it had an agenda of its own. You didn’t care, though. If these country men could walk around in nothing but basketball shorts and tank tops, you could wear your little booty-clapper romper in peace.

With a lemon-flavored popsicle in hand, you scrolled mindlessly on your phone, music blasting through your AirPods. You weren’t even paying attention to the world around you. At least, not until you looked up and saw him. Terry was out in the yard, shirtless, sweat glistening on his golden-brown skin like he was made of pure temptation. He had the lawn mower in a firm grip, pushing it across the grass with ease, the muscles in his back flexing with every movement. His broad shoulders and cut biceps worked as he maneuvered the machine, sweat dripping down the hard planes of his chest, sliding over his abs, disappearing into the waistband of his basketball shorts.

“Lord, have mercy…” You whispered under your breath. Your stomach clenched, thighs instantly pressing together on instinct. You weren’t even paying much attention to how hot it was anymore. Not when Terry was giving you a show.

The way he moved—slow, controlled, powerful—had your mind going straight to the gutter. You bit your lip, watching him like you had no damn home training. Your mouth went dry, but you refused to blame the heat. This was all him. The way the sun kissed his rich caramel skin? The way his jaw clenched in concentration? The way his thick ass thighs flexed every time he took a step? Terry was a whole ass problem.

You took a slow pull from your popsicle, sucking the tip into your mouth as your eyes stayed glued to the scene in front of you while you leaned back on your elbows, stretching your legs out in front of you, letting the sun warm your skin as you continued to watch him work. You intensely watched as the lawn mower moved slow and steady under his firm grip, his strong hands flexing around the handle as he guided it across the thick grass with impeccable controlled precision. Every push made his biceps tighten, the muscles in his shoulders rolling under his skin like waves. His back flexed, broad and cut, tapering down to a slim waist and thick thighs that held all the power he was working with. He definitely made yard work look sinful. The deep hum of the lawn mower vibrated through the air, but it wasn’t enough to drown out your thoughts. You shifted again, your thighs pressing together, trying to ignore the growing wetness that had started to turn noticeably sticky against the seat of your romper.

Truth be told you knew it had been a minute since you got some. And it wasn’t just about sex—you needed something real. Not some half-ass, two-pump, let-me-get-mine type of situation. No, you needed a man who knew how to handle a woman like you. A man who knew how to grab you, flip you, make you forget your own damn name. Most men didn’t know what to do with a woman built like you—soft in all the right places, curves that needed to be held properly. The kind of body that required strength. The kind of body that needed a man who wasn’t afraid to take control, to pin you down, to make you feel every inch of him until you were running from it. And something in the back of your mind told you Terry was that kind of man. Now you knew damn well in the back of your mind , you weren’t supposed to be lusting after this man. You were supposed to be focused. But the way your body was reacting? The way your heartbeat was drumming between your legs? Baby… focus was nowhere to be found.

“Shit…” You muttered under your breath, shifting in your seat. You bit your lip, trying to steady your breathing as your thighs lazily parted open, wanting to give him a view of exactly what he was working with. The thin leopard-print romper did nothing to hide the soft, fat flips beneath it, and you dared Terry to notice. Terry clearly must’ve felt you staring after a while because suddenly, he looked up, eyes locking straight right at you. Your lips wrapped around the popsicle before you could think better of it, your tongue flicking against the tip in a slow, deliberate motion. His eyes darkened while a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took you in, legs parted, skin glowing, sitting there like temptation itself while sucking on something cold to keep from melting in this heat. Or maybe to keep from melting under his heat. You could’ve looked away. Could’ve played it off. But instead, you held his gaze and dragged your tongue along the side of the popsicle, purring at the refreshing taste. Terry’s smirk deepened. He dragged a hand over his head, wiping away sweat, and took his sweet time looking you over—eyes traveling from your thighs to your lips, lingering for just a second too long. While he took his own glances.

Your eyes dragged lower, following the slow, tantalizing trail of sweat dripping down his abs, rolling over the deep-cut lines of his V. The way his muscles flexed with every movement, the way that sheen of sweat made his caramel skin glisten under the ruthless South Carolina sun—it was sinful. You could see it. The way those sharp dips led right beneath the waistband of his basketball shorts, teasing at what was beneath. That print, that damn thick dick print, sitting heavy between his thighs, made your mouth damn near water. Your fingers tightened around the melting popsicle, lips parting slightly as your breathing turned shallow. You didn’t even realize he had stopped pushing the mower by this point. Hell, you didn’t even notice how hard he was staring right back at you. Your mind was complete mush. His gaze wasn’t on your face, though. Wasn’t even on your parted lips or the way your chest rose and fell beneath your thin romper. No, Terry was looking right between your thighs. Your legs were still lazily parted, the soft, fat flesh of your pussy lips spilling over the seat of your romper in a way that had his stormy ocean like eyes darkening, narrowing slightly. And then , he noticed that little glint of the diamond metal sitting exactly where his tongue wanted to be. His jaw flexed and his grip on the mower tightened. His nostrils flared just slightly, envisioning what your pussy looks beneath that romper. The way he was looking at you? Like he was imagining spreading those thighs wider, getting a real close look at that piercing, letting his tongue play with it just to hear how sweet you’d sound moaning his name. Terry’s slow stare continued to drag up and down your body, lingering on that juicy space between your thick thighs. His tongue peeked out, swiping across his bottom lip as he eyed you like he was trying to decide if he was about to fuck around and make a bad decision.

The air between you two was thick and dripping with animalistic lust and deep sexual tension. By this point your entire body felt as though it was buzzing, waiting for him to say something, do something—Then your phone rang, loud as hell might I add. You damn near jumped out of your skin, startled, the sound snatching you straight out of your dirty-ass thoughts. In your rush to grab the phone, you choked on the popsicle juice sliding down your throat, coughing as your eyes watered. Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head before turning back to his work. That only made it worse. Now you were sitting here, hot, pussy throbbing and wet, and embarrassed, struggling to breathe while he went right back to pushing that damn lawn mower like he hadn’t just had you about to risk your soul in broad daylight.

“Hello?” You answered, trying to steady your voice and not sound flustered.

“Miss Walker?” The voice on the other end came through.

You swallowed hard, still trying to steady your voice. “Uh, yeah. This is her.”

“This is Veronica Kincaid, the realtor you called about your grandmother’s land. I wanted to touch base since I’ll be coming by tomorrow evening to do an initial walk-through of the property.” The realtor stated.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your forehead. Of course the realtor would pick now, right now—to call you. And of course your voice still sounded all breathy and flustered like you’d just been caught doing something you had no business doing. Which… technically, you had.

“Right, right. Veronica. Got it. Uh, so… what time were you thinking?”

You cleared your throat, shifting once again, getting up off the chair to head inside the house. The gentle flow of the air condition kissed your skin soon as you went inside the house and you were oh so grateful. You tucked your phone between your ear and shoulder as you migrated to the kitchen to grab a much needed ice cold glass of water.

“Well, I was hoping for around five, if that works for you? I know it’s short notice, but I had an opening, and I wanted to make sure we got ahead of any potential buyers who might be interested.” She explained.

“Yeah, yeah, five is cool. I’ll be here.” You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. You grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and opened it, immediately gulping it down.

“Great! And just to confirm, we’ll be looking at the full property today? The house and the surrounding land?” Veronica gently inquired. Your eyes flicked back to Terry outside through the kitchen window, who was still working, still glistening in that sun like the temptation he was. You exhaled slowly, pressing your thighs together again.

“Yeah,” you murmured, voice lower than it should’ve been. “The whole thing.”

“Alright, perfect! And if you have those documents ready, we can go over them when I arrive.” She requested, making you scrunch up your face confused. Documents? You thought to yourself. Your brain was fried. Not just from the heat but from that damn man outside looking like a walking sexual healing.

You barely managed, “Yeah, I’ll have everything ready,” before rushing her off the phone with a hasty, “I’ll see you tomorrow Veronica, alright bye.”

The second the call ended, you dropped your phone onto the counter and pressed your palms to your thighs, inhaling deeply. You clearly needed a moment, but apparently, God wasn’t done testing you today. Because not even a second later, Terry walked into the kitchen. You instantly stiffened up soon as he crossed the threshold, making your body react yet again. It wasn’t enough that he was fine as hell, now he had the nerve to smell good, too? Like fresh-cut grass, sun, and something deep and masculine that made your thighs press together on instinct. Terry didn’t say a word as he went straight to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, twisting off the cap with one hand like it was nothing. You tried to focus on Veronica’s voice in your ear, but then he slowly tilted his head back with his eyes closed. His throat flexing as he gulped down the water, droplets escaping down his chin, rolling over the slight scruff lining his jaw before dripping onto his ridiculously cut chest.

“Oh, fuck.” You uttered barely audible, thanking the heavens he didn’t hear you. Your brain short-circuited and all you could see was the way his lips wrapped around that bottle, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow, and suddenly, you weren’t picturing water anymore. No, now you were picturing your own creamy essence dripping down that chin, sliding down his jaw, his lips shiny with your sweet juices. Terry glanced at you mid-sip, catching the way you were gawking at him, before lowering the bottle and licking his lips.

“You good?” His deep voice carried that smooth, teasing edge.

“Mmhmm.” You swallowed hard, nodding quickly, forcing a tight lipped smile. Terry lifted a brow like he wasn’t buying that shit at all but didn’t press. Instead, he leaned against the counter, smirking slightly.

“Hot as hell out there, huh?” He teased, taking another swig from his water.

You huffed, waving a hand. “Yeah, I can’t do this shit. It’s too hot.”

“Can’t hang, huh?” That low chuckle of his sent a shiver down your spine. You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t even have the strength to argue. Your body was over it. As you grabbed your phone again, scrolling for the information Veronica needed, Terry took his time looking you over—really looking. Up close, he had an unobstructed view of what that leopard-print romper was doing to your figure. The way it clung to every curve, the way it barely covered your ass—or didn’t at all. That fabric had disappeared between your cheeks like it belonged there. Terry licked his lips, his mind going places it had no business going. All he could see was you bent over for him, those thick thighs trembling, that ass bouncing as he made you take every inch. A cornbread-fed body like yours? The type with thick thighs, soft rolls, and an ass that could smother a man to death? Yeah, that was his weakness. There were about a hundred ways he could make you run from him, and he knew that shit for a fact. His mind was deep in the gutter and he knew it as he watched you concentrate on your phone with your entire upper half of your body perched across the counter. Your ass poked out while you were arched just right for his liking. You didn’t even realize the way your ass swallowed the romper of we’re being honest or that he was looking at you like he was picturing it bouncing on his lap. As much as Terry didn’t want to, he knew he had to snap the hell out of it before he fucked around and found out.

“So… have you talked to the realtor yet?” He asked , clearing his throat, he shifted his stance and forced himself to focus. You glanced up, raising a brow like you knew he was just pulling himself out of a real deep thought.

“Yeah,” You said slowly, eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s coming by tomorrow evening.”

“That was quick.” He nodded, eyes still lingering on you, trying to gauge you.

“Trying to get shit handled as quick as possible so I can figure everything else out and not be here longer than I need to be.” You sighed, rubbing your temples. Terry let out a small chuckle, slightly shaking his head as his eyes lingered on you for a beat too long.

“Guess we’ll see what she has to say then.” He said stoically , expression unreadable.

“Guess we will,” You murmured. Avoiding his eyes as you fidgeted with your phone. The subtle ache from his lawn mowing performance is still evident.

“Aight, well I’m gon’ take a shower. If you need me just knock on my door.” Terry tapped his fingers against the counter before speaking again.

“I will.” You nodded, not bothering to meet his eyes. Terry gave a simple head nod, before turning the opposite direction, and heading out of the kitchen to get his shower. You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding until you heard a door close from down the hall. You immediately snatched your phone and dialed Tasha. The entire time you had been staying here, you were putting her up on game.

“This heffa better pick up this fucking phone—.” You were cut off by her picking up on the first ring.

“Bitch… this better be good. I’m trying to do my nails.” She dragged out, knowingly.

“Tasha...” You groaned.

“Tell me why you sound like you just had a whole orgasm.” She twisted up her face as if you could see, laughing softly on the other end.

“Because, bitch, I might have.” You got up from in front of the counter, migrating into the living room and dropping onto the couch, covering your face.

“Oh no. What did Terry do now?” Tasha cackled loudly. You adjusted the phone on your ear, not bothering to use your AirPods .

“It’s not what he did, Tasha. It’s just… him existing.” You sighed loudly, fanning yourself dramatically.

“Damn. It’s that bad?” She snickered.

“No, girl. It’s worse.” You exhaled, flopping back against the cushions. “This nigga got the nerve to be outside, shirtless, cutting grass like he’s auditioning for a damn porno. And then he comes inside, drenched in sweat, drinking water like he knows what he’s doing.”

Tasha wheezed. “Did you damn near suck the air out of the room watching him?”

“…I might’ve choked on my popsicle.” You embarrassingly admitted. Dead silence. Then— She SCREAMED.

“BITCHHHHHH.” She hollered out, doubling over in laughter.

You groaned. “I fucking hate you.”

“Nah, I love this for you,” She snickered. “But, uh, be careful. That man sounds like he’s about to be all in your guts real soon.”

“Lord please… don’t say that Tasha.” You whined, feeling your heart rate speed up. Your legs crossed tight at the thought. Because the Lord knew you wanted it. And by the way Terry had been looking at you today? He might’ve wanted it just as bad.

“Girl, I’m just saying… it’s been a minute since you got that back cracked open like a lobster! When was the last time you had a man deep inside you making you forget all your worries, hmm?” Tasha asked, her voice playful but full of intent.

You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear. “Damn, Tasha. You really gotta ask me that?”

“Yes, I do! ‘Cause the way you soundin’ all flustered and stressed out over this man, I know you need some relief. So spill it.” She pestered. You hesitated, lips pressing together. The truth was, it had been a minute. Too damn long. And the last time? Whew… the last time was with Rahmello, better known as Rome. That fine, toxic-ass sneaky link who had you sprung even though you swore up and down you weren’t. He wasn’t Terry fine, but he was still fine in his own right. Tall, built, skin the color of fresh coffee, and a smile that could charm the lace off a nun. The sex was fire. He was the only one who truly knew how to touch you, how to work your body like he had a damn manual. And Lord, did he love to hear you moan.

But Rome wasn’t on or about shit. He never wanted to leave your apartment after laying the pipe like his name was Mario. Not because of your body—oh no, he worshipped every damn inch of you—but because he was still technically with his baby mama and didn’t want that smoke. A coward. A man who thrived off the thrill but would never step up. So yeah… he was the last man you’d been with. And it had been two years.

“Girl, why is you so quiet? You reminiscing, huh? I knew it!” Tasha’s voice pulled you back to the present.

You scoffed. “First of all, shut up. Second of all… I ain’t reminiscing. I’m just—”

“Just realizing it’s been too damn long since you had some real dick,” She cut in, making you roll your eyes.

“Tasha, I am NOT about to be fuckin’ this man. I came down here to honor Nana’s wishes, not get caught up with some stranger!” You sighed dramatically.

“Oh, so now he’s just some stranger? You ain’t been drooling over him for the past three days? Girl, please.” She amusingly scoffed.

“That’s beside the point. The point is—I’m keeping it together.” You sucked your teeth.

“Nah, the point is, you're scared. You afraid that if you let that man touch you, it’s over for you.” Tasha snorted.

Silence.

Then, you exhaled through your nose. “YES, HOE! THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I’M AFRAID OF!”

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! Oh my God—bitch, you actin’ like this nigga ‘bout to have you outside his window with a boombox, playin’ love songs n’ shit!” Tasha hollered, practically puncturing your eardrum.

“Tasha, I just KNOW that nigga got some demon dick. He look like he will have me screamin’, I GOT THE BIKE, HOLIDAY!” You covered your face with one hand, laughing despite yourself.

“STOPPPP! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! I CAN’T BREATHE!” Tasha was screaming now, full-on hollering through the phone.

“I’m serious! This man just look like he’ll have me actin’ a damn fool. And I don’t have the time or the mental capacity for that kinda stress.”You laughed too, shaking your head as you fanned yourself.

Tasha finally calmed down enough to catch her breath. “Whew… girl. I get it, I really do. But, for real—for real… if you keep fightin’ it this hard, that just means you already in too deep.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew she had a point. You just weren’t ready to admit it yet. After spending another few minutes on the phone with Tasha. You realized you needed to take care of the constant yearn that was deep inside your belly. The ache between your legs was damn near unbearable. No amount of squeezing your thighs together, shifting in your seat, or deep breathing was doing a damn thing to make it go away. And it was all of his sexy ass fault. Terry had no business looking that damn good, smelling that damn good, and moving the way he did. Your body had been on high alert from the moment you saw him out there mowing the lawn, and now, after that whole scene in the kitchen, your nerves were shot, and your body was begging for relief. You needed release, and fast. You leaned up slightly from the couch, as you listened carefully, making sure he was nowhere near. Then, you heard it—the sound of the shower running down the hall. Terry was in the guest bathroom, meaning you had just enough time to sneak upstairs and handle business before he finished. Wasting no time, you shot up from the couch and rushed up the stairs, heart pounding. The second you got into your bedroom, you fished through your suitcase, hands shaking with anticipation, until your fingers wrapped around the one thing that could bring you to the edge and push you over in minutes, your lovely rose better known as your lifesaver.

You practically ripped your romper off, the fabric slipping down your thick thighs with ease. And when you stepped out of it, you whimpered. The sight of your own slick, gooey essence stretching between your thighs had you trembling. Your swollen clit pulsed angrily, begging for attention, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than for Terry to be the one to drop down to his knees and lick up every single drop. You bit your lip feeling a shudder run down your spine. Your legs felt weak as you climbed onto the bed, settling against your pillows. Wasting no time, you powered the rose on, immediately switching it to the third setting—the one that never failed to drag a scream right out of you. The second the soft suction latched onto your needy, swollen wet clit, your whole body jerked.

“Oh fuck! Mmmm shit.” A sharp cry tore from your lips as your thighs clenched. You threw your head back, feeling your juices gush out as it hit the toy, making a sound that had you so turned on. The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that you felt yourself spiraling already as you slowly rubbed the toy up and down your clit, teasing it as its suction continued to pull and tug on it, making your cream slowly gather inside your hole, ready to drip out.

“Fuuuuck, y-yess.” Your hips bucked as you rocked into the toy, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure hit you like a fucking freight train. You knew you were about to have the hardest nut of your life.

“My clit so fucking fat shit.” You moaned filthy, feeling hot and wet as your pussy began to have a mind of its own. You were in love with how sensitive your clit felt. The dream was dripping like lava as you felt the toy’s hard suction increasing as your clit fattened with need.

Your legs trembled as you held them back, the rose sucking and pulsing against your swollen clit, dragging out a sticky, wet ache that had been building for days. The first drag of suction made you shudder, a deep moan slipping from your lips as your juices dripped down your pussy slowly and onto the sheets. You rubbed the toy up and down while holding it down to add more pressure, teasing your clit, the pulsing vibration making your body jolt every time it latched onto your clit just right. The obscene squelch and suction noises filled the room, bouncing off the walls, mixing with your ragged breaths and soft whimpers. You swore you could feel the orgasm creeping up already, your belly tightening, thighs clenching, toes curling. You didn’t even care how loud you were; Terry was all the way in the guest bathroom, the sound of the shower running covering your sinful little secret. At least, that’s what you thought. What you didn’t know was that Terry wasn’t even in the damn shower yet. He had stepped out of the bathroom to grab some fresh clothes from the dryer, towel slung over his shoulder, basketball shorts hanging low on his waist, when he passed by your door. And that’s when he heard it. The wet, messy sounds. The desperate little moans.He stopped mid-step, his head tilting, listening closer. The low buzz of a toy, the way your breath hitched between every slick, suctioning pull of it. His lips parted slightly, and his hand flexed at his side, his whole body stiffening as his breathing slowed down, listening to you moan and cry. His tongue ran across his teeth as he bit down, his dick already hardening at the thought of what was happening just beyond that door. And Lord help him… he wanted to see.

“Mmmm suck that pussy! Yesss.” You cried out, eyes closed, picturing Terry’s mouth on you instead of the rose. You pressed the rose down harder, throwing your head back against the pillows as soft spurts of pussy juice squirted from you, making a nice puddle beneath your ass. Terry stood frozen outside your door, jaw tight, tongue pressed against his teeth as he listened to the wet, sloppy sounds coming from your room. His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling as his mind wandered and painted a crystal clear image of you and how you looked right about now pleasuring yourself.

“Damn,” He muttered under his breath, low and raspy. “I know that pussy look pretty when it cum.”

His head dropped forward slightly, hand flexing at his side as his mind painted the filthiest picture—your thick thighs trembling, that pretty little pussy clenching and dripping, all swollen and needy, just waiting for a real tongue to replace that damn toy. And then he heard it. His name slipping past your lips, soft and breathless, like a damn prayer as you were orgasming and creaming all over yourself , and letting out what you had been building up for the last few days.

“T-Terry— FUCK TERRY!” You cried loudly, cumming hard and intensely, as you rode the toy slowly. Immediately going sensitive you dropped the toy to the side and rubbed your aching clit rapidly with your middle finger, allowing yourself to squirt out as a second nut hit you, making your walls squirt harder. Terry’s eyes went dark, a deep hunger settling in his gut, spreading through his veins like wildfire. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his breathing ragged as the image of you writhing on that bed, your fingers tangled in the sheets, legs wide open for him, sent a pulse of raw, aching need straight to his dick. He swallowed hard, fists clenching tighter as he forced himself to step back, to walk away and restrain himself before he did something reckless. Because if he stepped into that room? There wouldn’t be any turning back. He was gonna beat the fuck out of that pussy until you saw stars.

You jerked from the aftershock of your mind blowing orgasm as you laid there, trying to catch your breath. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest as your ears were practically ringing. You’ve had your fair share of amazing orgasms when it came down to self care but this one? This one was undoubtedly the hardest, most nastiest one you had ever given yourself. You knew what your good girl could do. She was a messy juice monster that could make a mess if touched correctly and only you knew how to touch her to make it this intense. But it wasn’t just your technique this time , or your rose toy. It was that tall rich caramel nigga with the gorgeous unique eyes that had you spent and dripping cum.

“S-Shit…” You softly whimpered, feeling tired as your eyes grew heavy. As much as you wanted to get up and clean yourself off as well as change the covers. The aftershock of your orgasm sent you into a soft deep, very much needed slumber. You weren’t fond of sleeping in sweet sticky essence but you were too spent and too weak to fight against it. Not even a minute later you were knocked out, snoring softly with your legs still wide open, with not one care in the world.

A little after 4pm you finally arose from your slumber. Your body felt brand new after an hour-long nap and a much-needed shower. The kind of shower where you let the hot water run over your skin, steam fogging up the mirror while you took your time rubbing yourself down with your favorite body scrub. You needed that. Deserved that. Now, feeling refreshed, you threw on something light—a tiny tube-top dress that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs, the soft cotton clinging to your curves. You slid your feet into your fluffy fur slides, secured your hair up in a claw clip, and let a few soft curls frame your face. Cute, comfortable, and cool. Perfect for this ridiculous heat. With your Bluetooth speaker connected, you scrolled through your playlist, finally settling on SWV’s “Anything” Remix. As soon as the beat dropped, the energy in the kitchen shifted. The bass vibrated through the air, wrapping around you like an old friend. You started off slow, swaying your hips as you pulled out ingredients, letting the rhythm seep into your bones. The knife moved effortlessly through the ripe tomatoes, the sizzle of onions hitting the pan mixing with the music.

“Boy, my body’s just for you…” You sang as your shoulders bounced to the beat, and before you knew it, you were dancing. Really dancing. Hands up, hips rolling, that natural rhythm taking over as you stirred the pot on the stove. The little dress lifted with every step, teasing the curve of your ass as you lost yourself in the moment. What you didn’t know was that Terry had walked in a while ago, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, just… watching. Amused. Intrigued. You moved so effortlessly, like music was embedded in your bones. He licked his lips, eyes glued to the way your thighs jiggled with every step. That ass? A masterpiece. He could’ve watched you all damn day, but after a few more moments, he finally made his presence known.

“Ahem.” The deep rumble of his throat clearing cut through the air like a record scratch. You jumped, nearly dropping the spoon in your hand. Turning around, wide-eyed and caught, you saw him standing there, that signature smirk tugging at his lips.

“Jesus, you scared the hell outta me,” You huffed, pressing a hand to your chest, trying to slow your pounding heart.Terry just chuckled, eyes dark with something unreadable as he nodded toward you.

“Nah, baby girl, don’t stop on my account. Looked like you was really feelin’ it.” He teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, waving him off as you turned back to the stove. But your heart was still racing. And not just from the scare. Terry leaned against the counter, reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap off with ease. As he took a slow, deep gulp, you caught the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. The way his lips parted just slightly, tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop. You swallowed hard, looking away before your mind took you places it had no business going again for the second time today. Terry smirked behind the bottle. Oh yeah, he had peeped all of that. And after overhearing what you were really up to in your room earlier, he was having a hard time pretending like he didn’t know exactly what had you so damn flustered. But he kept that dirty little secret to himself. For now.

The silence stretched for a bit, except for the music playing in the background. You exhaled, stirring the pot before muttering, “It’s too damn quiet out here.”

Terry hummed. “You ain’t used to it yet?”

“Not even close. I miss New York. All the noise, the people, the energy… I miss just walking outside and hearing taxi’s honking or ambulance's blaring. This country cricket life is not for me.” You scoffed. Truth of the matter was that you couldn’t stand the quiet due to being alone in your thoughts. The quieter things were, the more you relived trauma and pain you tried to forget about in this very house and town. Living in the city helped you stay occupied and distracted so you wouldn’t have to feel or think. Your therapist had told you long ago that , that was an unhealthy way to cope but it was either bury the shit or be on meds for the rest of your life because you couldn’t function.

Terry leaned against the counter, watching you. “If you were back home right now, what would you be doing?”

You thought for a second, then shrugged. “Hittin’ the town with my girls or curled up with a glass of wine, binge-watching something on Netflix or Hulu.”

“Sounds like a good night.” Terry nodded, smiling slightly.

“It is,” You said, then paused, your mind drifting to something else. A memory.

“You know… it wasn’t always bad down here. My daddy used to take me to this old skating rink when I was little. Sweet Rollers. Used to be the spot for all the neighborhood kids. I had the time of my life there, zoomin’ around, thinking I was so grown.” You smiled softly, stirring the pot absentmindedly. Terry’s lips tugged into a smirk, eyes flicking to your face as you got lost in the memory. He loved that little spark in your eye when you talked about something that made you happy.

“Sweet Rollers still around,” He said casually.

Your head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Terry chuckled. “Still open. Still got skate nights, too. If you hurry up and get dressed, we can make the evening session.”

“Yeah, right. My big ass ain’t skated in years. I’m not about to be out there bustin’ my ass in front of a bunch of teenagers. No thank you.” You snorted.

Terry leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “All you done did since you got here is work and complain. How ‘bout one night of just… fun?”

You gave him a side-eye. “I have fun.”

Terry smirked. “Name one fun thing you done since you stepped foot in this house.”

Silence

“…Exactly.”

You exhaled, narrowing your eyes at him. “You really tryna get me out the house that bad?”

“I’m tryna get you to loosen up,” Terry said, voice low and smooth. “Ain’t no harm in that, is it?”

You bit your lip, debating. And Lord help you… but the way he was looking at you? It was making it real hard to say no.

You hesitated for a second, chewing on your lip as you looked between Terry and the food sizzling on the stove. “We gotta eat first.”

“We can eat this delicious concoction when we get back. I’ll wrap it up so it stays warm. You go get dressed.” Terry shook his head with a smirk, stepping past you and reaching for the knob, twisting the fire off. You huffed, knowing he wasn’t about to let you argue. A night out didn’t sound half bad, and Lord knew you needed to unwind.

“Fine, fine…” You muttered, turning on your heel and rushing upstairs. Now, if you were going out, you were going to look good doing it. You picked out a pair of booty-hugging daisy duke shorts that gripped your thighs in all the right places, frayed at the edges just enough to tease. Then, you slipped into a cherry-red halter top bodysuit with a plunging neckline, leaving your entire back out, your spine tattoo on full display. You accessorized with your gold nameplate necklace, matching gold hoops, and stacked charm bracelets, letting the jewelry glint against your brown skin. Your hair was next—water and gel slicked it up into a high ponytail, soft curls cascading messily while your baby hairs framed your forehead just right. Shoes? Cute sandals. But you tossed a pair of socks into your purse for the rink. Makeup? Unnecessary. Your skin was already glowing. You fluffed your lash extensions, reapplied your buttery lip gloss, then reached for your Tom Ford Vanilla Sex—a Christmas gift from your mother. The rich, warm scent filled the air as you sprayed a generous amount over your collarbone, wrists, and thighs. Just as you grabbed your purse, you heard Terry’s deep voice call from downstairs.

“You ready yet?” His voice sounded smooth as velvet.

You smirked at your reflection before stepping out of your room and heading toward the stairs. The moment you hit the top step, his head turned. You saw the shift in his expression immediately. His eyes dragged down your short frame—lingering on the way your shorts sat snug on your thighs, then dropping lower to admire how your ass filled them out from the front. His tongue swiped over his lips before his gaze trailed up your exposed back, his jaw flexing slightly. By the time he reached your face, his pupils were just a little darker.

“Damn, ma…” His voice was deep, and heavier. “You tryna have every nigga in there break they neck?” He raised his eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, descending the stairs. “Boy, shut up.”

Terry let out a low chuckle, stepping closer. “Nah, for real. You dangerous in that.” His head tilted, his voice dropping. “Lookin’ like you tryna get chose tonight.”

“Please. I just like to look good.” You scoffed, even though your pulse betrayed you.

He grabbed his keys, still watching you like he was committing every detail to memory. “Well, you succeeded.” Then, he smirked, nodding toward the door. “C’mon, before I change my mind and keep you here all night.”

Your breath caught for a split second, but you played it off, brushing past him as you stepped outside.You felt his presence heavy behind you, his eyes still lingering. Yeah… this night might be trouble. But you were already in too deep to back out now. Jesus be a complete fence around you and your hormones tonight. The ride to the skating rink was smooth, the warm evening breeze slipping through the cracked windows of Terry’s truck. The low hum of the engine filled the silence at first, but the tension in the air was anything but quiet. You shifted in your seat, smoothing your hands over your bare thighs, acutely aware of Terry’s presence beside you. He had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console, his long fingers occasionally drumming against the leather. He was relaxed, but you could tell by the way his jaw flexed that his mind wasn’t completely at ease.

“You always this quiet?” You finally asked, breaking the silence.

“I talk when I got something to say.” Terry smirked, eyes still on the road.

“Oh, so you one of them?” You scoffed, shaking your head.

“One of what?” He glanced over at you briefly, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“The mysterious, brooding type. The ‘I ain’t gotta say much’ type. That whole ‘quiet storm’ thing.” You waved your hand. “Lemme guess, you think it makes you more intriguing, huh?”

“Nahhh, I just don’t waste words.” Terry chuckled under his breath.

“Mmhmm.” You folded your arms, feigning disappointment. “And here I was thinkin’ we was gonna have deep conversation, maybe share some childhood secrets, bond a little.” You pouted.

That made him chuckle again, this time a little deeper. “What you wanna know?”

You turned your body toward him, lips curling into a smirk. “I dunno… something interesting. Like, what’s your guilty pleasure?”

Terry lifted an eyebrow. “Guilty pleasure?”

“Yeah, like some random shit you love but would never admit out loud.” You stared at him, admiring the way his pretty eyes looked under the settling evening skies.

He rolled his lips together, thinking for a second before saying, “Old ‘90s R&B.”

“Word?” You perked up.

He nodded. “Yeah… I be playin’ the hell outta some Jodeci or Mint Condition when I’m by myself.”

“Not Jodeci.” You gasped dramatically, hand to your chest.

“You asked.” Terry chuckled, shaking his head.

“So what you be doing? Sitting in your truck with the seat back, windows down, singing your heart out?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He smirked, glancing over at you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s wild. I would’ve pegged you for more of a hardcore rap, never-show-emotion type dude.”

“Oh, I still be on that. But sometimes, you gotta let a little Feenin’ or Pretty Brown Eyes play when the mood hit.” He licked his bottom lip, giving you a side glance.

“Yeah… I can see that.” You stared at him for a beat, biting your lip.

Terry’s eyes flickered to your mouth before looking back at the road. “What about you?”

“What about me?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s your guilty pleasure?” He side glanced you, licking the corner of his mouth.

You grinned, knowing your answer might make him judge you. “Don’t laugh… but I love watching trashy reality TV.”

“Nah.” Terry snorted.

“Yes!” You laughed. “Like, the messier the better. I love the drama, the fighting, the over-the-top acting—”

“That’s wild.” He chuckled.

“Don’t judge me.”

“I’m judgin’.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

Terry smirked, shaking his head before muttering, “Yeah… I can see that.”

The way he threw your words back at you made you laugh, shaking your head as you settled into a more comfortable silence. The ride continued, the city lights flashing past the windows, and for a moment, you found yourself just enjoying the easy rhythm between you two. No pressure, no awkwardness. Just… something smooth. Something that felt good. Something that made you wonder what the hell you were getting yourself into. As soon as Terry pulled into the parking lot of Sweet Rollers, the deep bass of old-school R&B / Hip Hop tracks vibrated through the truck, mixing with the sounds of laughter and chatter from the rowdy crowd gathered outside. Groups of people lingered near their cars, some sipping on drinks, others showing off their best dance moves before heading inside. It was packed, just like you remembered, and an excited thrill rushed through you at the sight of your old stomping grounds.

“Oooh, this is what I’m talking about!” You excitedly grinned, practically bouncing in your seat.

Terry, however, wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic. His sharp ocean-like gaze swept over the crowd, his jaw tightening slightly. “Too many fucking people.”

“It’s a skating rink, Terry. It’s supposed to be packed.” You rolled your eyes.

“I know.” He exhaled through his nose, gripping the wheel. Unbeknownst to you, Terry wasn’t fond of overly packed places. He hated crowds in general but where he came from he knew that too many niggas in one spot and a bunch of alcohol was a recipe for some shit to pop off. Being an ex Marine Terry was always on guard and ready to handle business if need be and even tonight wasn’t no exception to his unspoken rule.

“What, you scared?” You smirked.

He cut his eyes at you. “Ain’t never been scared a day in my life.”

“Then come on, tough guy.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, already reaching for the door handle. “Let’s have some fun.”

Terry sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before finally nodding. “Yeah, aight.”

As soon as you both stepped out, you could feel the eyes on you—or more specifically, on him. Women stopped mid-conversation, their eyes raking over Terry like he was the best thing they’d seen all night. And honestly? You didn’t blame them. Terry was the type of man that commanded attention without even trying. Standing tall in his fitted black tee, grey sweats hanging low on his hips, and fresh sneakers, he had that effortless, I know I look good but I ain’t gotta say it kind of presence. The streetlights bounced off his sexy caramel skin, illuminating his small curls on top of his head, and highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw and the cool, detached expression that made him even more irresistible.

One woman in particular—a tall, red bone beauty with a micro mini dress that left nothing to the imagination—bit her lip as she eyed him. “Damn,” she muttered to her friend. “That man is fine.”

Before you could process the way irritation flared in your chest, Terry’s large, warm hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance. The simple touch sent heat rushing up your spine, but more than that, it was a silent message. Ain’t no need for you to feel any type of way, I’m with you. And if the daggers those women were shooting your way were any indication? They got the message loud and clear. Inside, the rink was even livelier. The neon lights flashed against the glossy floor, reflecting off the disco ball spinning in the center. The scent of buttered popcorn, funnel cakes, and sweet candy lingered in the air, mixing with the faint must of sweat and skate wheels burning against the slick surface.

“Oh my God,” You breathed, looking around with wide eyes. “It’s exactly how I remember.”

Terry glanced down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “That right?”

“Yep. This place was my childhood.”You nodded, grinning. He hummed, tucking that piece of information away before leading you toward the rental counter. The girl behind the counter, a petite thing with slicked baby hairs and acrylics long enough to type paragraphs with, barely spared you a glance. Her gaze immediately locked onto Terry, and her whole energy shifted.

“Hey, handsome,” She purred, leaning forward on the counter just enough to push her cleavage together. “What size you need?”

“Thirteen.” Terry, completely unfazed, pulled his wallet out.

“Mm, big feet…” She smiled, twirling a curl around her finger. Your eyebrow shot up at the boldness of this air head before you. You blinked a few times at her. Did she just—?

Terry didn’t react, just glanced at you. “What size, ma?”

“Seven,” You muttered, crossing your arms.

The girl finally looked at you, then reached under the counter, sliding both pairs of skates toward Terry with an extra sweet smile. “That’ll be twenty-seven dollars.

Before you could pull out your own money, Terry was already handing over a crisp bill.

“You ain’t have to do that,” You frowned.

“I was raised to be a southern gentleman. You ain’t payin’ for nothing in my presence.” Terry tucked his wallet away, grabbing the skates.

You huffed. “Terry—”

“I know you can handle your own, mama,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flutter. “But let me handle it tonight.”

And just like that, your knees buckled a little. Terry smirked as if he knew exactly what he was doing, then handed you your skates.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the benches. “Let’s get you laced up.”

You swallowed, fighting the warmth creeping up your cheeks as you followed behind him. Lord have mercy… What did you just get yourself into? You both made your way over to one of the long benches lined against the wall, the music thumping as people whizzed by on their skates, laughter and conversation blending into the lively atmosphere. You plopped down with a sigh, resting your skates beside you, but before you could even think about lacing them up, Terry was already kneeling in front of you, rolling his shoulders back like this was just another day. Your breath hitched. The sight of him on his knees—those thick, muscled arms flexing as he took your ankle into his hands—did something to you. The heat that spread across your skin was immediate, undeniable. His fingers, large and slightly calloused, wrapped around your calf with ease, his touch firm but careful as he guided your foot into the skate. Your body and not to mention your pussy betrayed you instantly. A sharp tingle danced up your spine, settling deep in your clit as you watched him work. His brows furrowed slightly, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones as he concentrated, making sure the skate fit snugly before pulling at the laces. The way his hands moved—strong, sure, completely in control—had no business being so damn… sexy.

“You good?” His deep voice broke through your haze, snapping you back to reality.

“Y-Yeah. I’m good.” You cleared your throat, shifting slightly on the bench. He glanced up then, his light ocean gray eyes locking onto yours, and damn. That slow, lazy smirk of his was back like he knew exactly what was running through your mind.

“Yeah?” He drawled, tugging the laces tighter before looping them into a knot. “You sure, mama?”

“I’m sure, Terry.” You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your thighs pressed together involuntarily. He hummed, low and deep, and that sound alone nearly had you sliding off the damn bench. Instead of giving you a break, he moved on to your other foot, gripping your ankle and repeating the same slow, methodical process. By the time he finished, your body was on fire, your skin practically scorched under the weight of his hands.

“There,” he muttered, patting your knee as he rose to his full height. “You straight.”

But you? You were far from straight. Because when you looked up at him—his full lips twitching in amusement, his towering frame standing over you, his scent of clean soap and warm musk surrounding you and you knew one thing for sure. This night was about to be dangerous. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the wooden floors as the DJ spun a classic 90s R&B jam, filling the rink with a sultry, feel-good vibe. The actual song that happened to be playing was Return Of The Mack. The neon lights flickered against the smooth surface, casting a glow over the skaters gliding effortlessly across the floor. Laughter, cheers, and the occasional sound of wheels scraping against the wood echoed around them as people skated in pairs, some moving in sync, others wobbling through the crowd. You took a deep breath, adjusting your balance as you stepped onto the rink, gripping the railing tightly. It had been years since you’d done this, and your legs felt unsure beneath you.

“Yo, you comin’ or you just gon’ hold up the wall all night?” Terry called out, already rolling ahead like he owned the place, flashing that cocky smirk that made your heart skip a beat.

You sucked your teeth, a playful roll of your eyes as you replied, “I gotta get my footing first. I ain’t tryna bust my ass in front of all these people.”

“Ain’t nobody worried ‘bout you fallin’, mama. You got me.” He laughed, skating backward like it was nothing. With a deep breath, you pushed off, wobbling a little as your skates started to glide. Just like you feared, your legs betrayed you, and before you knew it, you were tilting forward, ready to take a nosedive. A quick gasp escaped your lips, but Terry was there, like a superhero swooping in. Strong arms wrapped around your waist possessively, pulling you up against him with a grip that felt both solid and warm. When you looked up, his face was so close, that smirk teasing you like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Damn, ma,” He murmured, his voice low and smooth like silk, sending a shiver through you. “You just wanted me to hold you, huh?”

“Shut up.” You laughed, trying to shake off the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“Relax baby girl, you thinkin’ too much. Just let your feet glide and don’t fight it. Just move with me.” He chuckled, steadying you with those strong hands before easing you back to your feet. And just like that, you started to find your groove. With Terry guiding you, his hands firm yet gentle, the wobble in your stance faded. He kept one hand on your hip, ensuring you didn’t lose your balance, while the other hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining like they were meant to be. Before long, you were rolling across the rink, laughter spilling out of you every time he threw in a little spin or playfully tugged you in a new direction.

“I see you getting the hang of it now,” He teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Mmhmm,”You shot back, grinning wide. “I told you I just needed a minute.”

“Oh, so you an expert now?” He cut an eye at you, smirking and tugging you again, making you squeal.

“I ain’t say all that,”You laughed, shaking your head, your heart racing with the thrill of the moment. With the beat rolling through you, you started to work it, feeling yourself get lost in the rhythm. Skating in sync with Terry, you spun and swayed, your laughter mingling with the music as he cheered you on, his voice rising above the sound.

“Ayeeee, aight I see you little mama.” He joked. You winked, swaying your hips in-sync as you glided effortlessly, getting lost in the music. The music suddenly shifted, a deep, sensual groove flowing through the speakers, the kind of track that made everything feel electric, as if the whole world was slowing down just for you two. You could feel Terry’s grip on you tighten, the way his energy shifted, and before you could even think about pulling away, he was pulling you closer.

“C’mon,” He murmured, breath warm against your ear. “Let’s see if you really got it.”

Your stomach flipped as he pulled you against him, your back pressing against his solid chest. His arms encircled your waist, guiding you as he began to sway, rolling his hips in time with yours, making the whole world fade away. You let out a slow breath, your body molding into his without even trying. The feel of him behind you—the steady strength of his hold, the way his fingers pressed into your bodacious curves, had your pulse racing like you were on a rollercoaster. Terry’s large stature moved like he was born to skate, fluid and confident, leading you in a rhythm that felt natural. As the music danced around you two, you surrendered to the beat, letting it pull you deeper into the moment.

“I ain’t just good at housework, baby girl,” He teased, his voice low and playful, making your heart flutter. “I got skills.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep the smile off your face, but it was too late. “Oh yeah?” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder, your eyes sparkling with challenge.

“Yeah. You see it,” He grinned, and damn, you did see it. You felt like you were floating, gliding through the crowd, every move you made infused with that infectious energy, the kind that made you feel alive. The way Terry watched you, like you were the center of the universe, only pushed you to show off even more. You bent over slowly, dipping your hips lower as he spun you both around, slow skating backwards. You had seen couples do this a thousand times on Tik Tok and part of you always wanted to do a slow set and here you were with Terry, slow grinding it to Slow Bass Line by Lloyd. The two of you must have skated for at least a good thirty minutes before you got a little winded. After a while of skating, you were starting to feel the burn in your thighs, and your throat was dry from all the laughing and talking. You leaned back slightly against Terry’s chest as you slowed to a stop.

“I’ma go grab a slushie from the concession stand,” You told him, brushing a stray curl from your face.

“Aight, I’ll be right here.” Terry nodded, his eyes still watching the skaters zipping past. With that, you carefully rolled off the rink, maneuvering your way through the crowd. The concession stand was packed, as expected, with groups of teens, couples, and families all waiting for their orders. You took your place in line, debating between cherry or blue raspberry when—

“Well, damn.” The deep, familiar drawl sent a chill straight down your spine, making you freeze in place. That voice—it had been years, but you’d know it anywhere. Slowly, you turned around, your eyes widening as they landed on a face from your past.

“Jalen?” Your mouth slightly dropped. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips. He looked good, you couldn’t even lie. Still fine, still tall with that same cocky glint in his eye. His gold chain glistened against his brown skin, and his white tee stretched across his chest in a way that told you he had been in the gym.

“Man, I knew that was you,”He said, eyeing you up and down like he was taking in every single change time had made to you. “Look at you, girl. All grown up and still fine as hell.”

You forced a polite smile, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and unease settle in your chest. “Yeah, it’s been a minute,” you said, keeping your tone light. “What you been up to?”

Before Jalen could answer, another voice cut in—one that made your stomach drop.

“Oh, hell nah. I’d recognize them big ass hammocks anywhere. Heyyy big mama!” The obnoxious voice teased. Your forced smile fell instantly. Not this bitch. You turned your head slightly and, sure enough, there she was. Shawna. Loud, ignorant, hating-ass Shawna. She looked exactly the same, except for the extra layers of cheap lace-front glue caking up along her hairline. Same exaggerated lashes, same gaudy press-on nails, and the same damn attitude she always had when it came to you. You took a slow breath, already knowing she was about to try you.

“Damn, girl, what brings you back down here? Ain’t seen you since you hauled your lil’ thick ass back up north.” She put a hand on her hip, cocking her head with a smirk.

“Yeah, life happens. Not that it’s any of your business.”You folded your arms, giving her a blank stare.

“Still thick as hell, I see. Some things never change.” She smirked deviously, shifting her weight to one hip, a slick smile on her glossy lips. Your jaw clenches, but you refuse to let her see you sweat. You’ve dealt with Shawna since childhood. She’s been your bully, your hater, your competition—always loud, always fast, and always looking for a way to put you down. And back then? She won. Over and over. From the cruel jokes about your weight to the way she snatched Jalen right from under you like it was her birthright. And now, here she is. Still the same, still petty, still trying to play in your face.

“I see some things never change either,” you fire back smoothly. “You still worried about me more than you worried about yourself.”

Shawna cocks an eyebrow, sucking her teeth. “Girl, please. I just call it how I see it. But damn, you done got cute or whatever.” She tilts her head dramatically. “Somebody put you on or you finally figured it out?”

“Excuse me—“ You try to correct her, but her loud ass mouth cuts in, cracking a joke at your demise.

“Boy, you used to love her fat chunky ass back in the day.” Shawna let out an obnoxious laugh, nudging Jalen. You clenched your jaw even tighter, about to deliver a sharp and downright disrespectful clapback that may or may not resulted in hands being thrown, when suddenly—A strong, warm arm draped around your waist, pulling you firmly against a familiar solid chest from the back. Terry, once again swooping it like a knight in shining armor. His presence alone was enough to shut down whatever slick shit was about to leave Shawna’s mouth.

“You good?” He murmured low enough for only you to hear, his voice steady, but there was something else underneath it—possessiveness.Your body instantly relaxed against him, feeling both safe and seen.

“Yeah, I’m good.”You nodded, your eyes flicking up to meet his. Shawna, however, was not. Her entire demeanor shifted the second her eyes landed on Terry. She damn near devoured him with her gaze, acting like her own man wasn’t standing just a few feet away.

“Whew, and who the fuck is this?” She exhaled dramatically, fanning herself with her hand. Jalen finally notices Terry too. His expression shifts, eyes narrowing as he looks between you and Terry.

“This your man or somethin’?” Jalen asks, crossing his arms. Terry doesn’t even blink. Instead, he shifts his stance slightly, his grip on your waist firm but easy, as if silently letting you decide how to handle it. But then, he speaks.

“Who’s asking?” He answered, voice sounding rougher and more authoritative than usual. The way he says it? Deep, smooth, unbothered. Like he already knows the answer doesn't matter. Like Jalen doesn't matter. And something about that makes your knees weak.

Jalen scoffs, shaking his head. “I was just curious. We got history, that’s all.”

Terry nods slowly, eyes still locked on him. “Yeah? That supposed to mean something to me?”

Jalen chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender. “Damn, bro, it ain’t even like that. We was just catching up.”

“That right?” Terry didn’t move. His dark eyes remained locked on Jalen’s, completely unbothered.

“Yeah,” Jalen nodded, though he seemed a little less sure of himself now. “Ain’t no pressure.”

Terry let a slow smirk curl at the corner of his lips. “Good.”

Shawna, still practically drooling, licked her lips. “Mm-mm-mm. I don’t know where you found this fine nigga, but girl… you won with this one.”

“I didn’t know we was in competition.”You shot her a dry look. She huffed a little, but before she could get another word in, Terry leaned down slightly, speaking just low enough for only you to hear.

“You still want that slushie, mama?” He asked, rubbing sooting circles on your lower back. Your lips parted slightly at the way he said mama like it was his name for you.

You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Go ‘head and order. I got you.” He nodded his head towards the counter.

After you and Terry basically dismiss Shawna and Jalen. You grab your slushie, feeling a rush of excitement to partake in your childhood delicacy as you step away from the counter. The rink is still buzzing with sweaty energy, and the slow jams are starting to play. Terry follows you to the bench, his eyes scanning the crowd, but you can feel him close by, steadying your nerves. You sit down and take a sip, enjoying the cool, sugary sweetness, but there’s still a lot on your mind. Terry sits beside you, and you can feel the tension between you both, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like he’s waiting for you to open up, and that’s something you don’t do easily.

“So who were they?” He glances at you, his expression curious. You hesitate for a moment, taking another sip of your slushie before setting it down on the bench. A sigh escapes your lips before you begin to explain.

“Jalen… he was the first guy I ever really loved,” you say, the words almost slipping out before you can stop them. “We were high school sweethearts. Thought we were gonna be together forever, you know? He was… the one who made me believe in all that fairy tale stuff.” You shrugged.

Terry listens intently, not interrupting. You can tell he’s taking it all in, but there’s something about the way he watches you—like he wants to understand.

“Sounds like he had you wrapped around his finger,” He says, his voice almost amused but with a touch of something darker behind it.

“Yeah, he did. But then Shawna came into the picture… She was always there, talking trash about me. My weight, my thighs, my body—she always had something to say. I’d try to ignore it, but… it wasn’t easy. And Jalen? He never defended me. He just let her talk.” You smile weakly, fighting back your emotions. Terry’s jaw tightens a little, but he doesn’t say anything. He just listens as you keep going.

“One day, Jalen broke up with me out of nowhere. No explanation. He just… dumped me. And Shawna? She wasted no time stepping in. It was like she’d been waiting for the moment to steal him away from me. She was the one who made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. And it stung. Still stings.” You sigh, taking another sip from the straw. You can feel the anger bubbling up again, but you try to keep it in check. This was the past, right? You weren’t supposed to let it get to you anymore. But it does.

Terry’s hand moves to rest on your knee, and you glance at him, surprised by the gesture. He gives you a look, his voice soft but intense. “That’s some messed up shit. No one should make you feel that way. Especially not him. And especially not her.”

You nod, your throat tightening a little as you try to swallow the lump forming there. “Yeah, well, that’s how it went down. Shawna made sure to rub it in my face every chance she got.”

Terry leans closer, his hand still resting on your knee. His gaze softens, and for a moment, you can almost forget about Shawna and Jalen, about everything that happened before. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.

“You’re better than them mamas, believe that.” He says firmly, his voice low but full of conviction. “Way better. And they don’t get to take that from you.”

His words sunk in, and you let out a small breath, feeling the weight of the past lift just a little bit. You smile, looking down at your slushie before you heard the music shift, the tempo slowing. The music in the rink slowed, a soft, familiar melody filling the air. The first chords of “Weak” by SWV began to echo, and the slow grind of couples on the rink picked up. The rhythm made you feel light again, the nostalgia pulling at her heartstrings.

“I used to love this song,” You say, nodding to the slow jam. “It reminds me of when my dad used to bring me to this rink when I was a kid. We’d skate all night, just goofing around with the kids from the neighborhood. It was one of the best times of my life.” You got teary for a split second.

“You were a pro back then, huh?” Terry raises an eyebrow.

“Not exactly. But I sure had fun. My dad let me stay out late, skating with my friends. It was like… freedom. You know?” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Sounds like you got some memories here. You still got that spark, though. I can see it in your eyes.” Terry watches you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You meet his gaze, feeling your heart race. You hadn’t expected this kind of attention, especially not from him. But here you are, sitting next to a man who seems to see you in a way no one else has.

“Well,” you say, your voice teasing, “I’m not sure I’ve still got the moves. My skating game is a little rusty.”

“We’ll see about that.” Terry grins, a playful glint in his eyes. He carefully stood to his feet, balancing on his skates.

The song swells, and the crowd on the rink starts to slow down, couples swaying together in time with the music. You glance at Terry, then back at the rink, suddenly feeling more confident. Maybe it’s the music, or maybe it’s just being here with him. Either way, tonight, you’re going to let go of all of your inner insecurities and just live in the moment. He stands in front of you , offering you his hand, and you take it without hesitation. The night’s just beginning, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you might just have the strength to leave all the old hurt behind.

“You ready to show them what you got?” Terry’s eyes linger on you, his large fingers interlocking with yours.

“Let’s see if I can still keep up.” You smile, pushing off the bench.And as he pulls you onto the rink, guiding you effortlessly into the slow rhythm of the music, you realize something… This night ain’t about the past or your grudge your held against this place. It’s about right now. And right now, Terry Richmond got all your attention.

The clock struck a little after 9pm and you and Terry both decided to call it a night and turn in your skates. You followed Terry’s lead as the two of you stepped out of the skating rink, the cool night air kissing your skin after the heat of the packed building. The bass from inside still rumbled in the background as more folks poured in for the after-hours session. You felt a lingering excitement from the night, your legs still tingling from the rush of skating and swaying with Terry on the floor. He walked beside you, his pace slow and relaxed, but you could tell by the way his eyes swept the parking lot that his mind was elsewhere. Terry wasn’t the type to get too comfortable in one spot for too long—especially not when crowds gathered, alcohol flowed, and tempers could spark over the smallest shit.

“You good?” You asked, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, I’m straight. But you look like you still got some energy left.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket, twirling them between his fingers before shooting you a smirk.

“I ain’t gon’ lie, I did miss this. I had fun tonight.” You smiled, stretching your arms.

He nodded, then slowed his steps, tilting his head at you. “You tryna call it a night, or you got one more adventure in you?”

“Depends. What you got in mind?” You raised a brow.

His smirk deepened, his eyes flashing with mischief, “Let me stop by the liquor store real quick. Grab us something to sip on with our food waiting back at the house.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded,

Your stomach tensed slightly. Drinking around Terry made you nervous, but not because you didn’t trust him—it was because you didn’t trust yourself. There was something about him, the way he carried himself, that made you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to. The ride to the liquor store was quick. The neon lights of the small shop glowed against the dark sky, buzzing faintly. Before stepping out, Terry handed you a couple of bills.

“Go next door, grab two Big Gulp cups, and fill ‘em with some slushies,” He instructed. “We mixin’ when I get back.”

“Yes, sir.” You took the money and rolled your eyes playfully. He chuckled, stepping out, and you walked into the 7-Eleven, heading straight for the slushie machine. The bright colors spun in the clear tanks, and you carefully mixed cherry with blue raspberry for one, pineapple with mango for the other. As you reached for the lids and straws, a voice cut through the air—deep, raspy, too damn familiar, making your entire body run cold and lock up.

“Sunshine?” The familiar voice spoke. Your breath caught in your throat, fingers stiffening around the cup. The air in the store suddenly felt too thick, your vision narrowing as an old, buried fear slithered up your spine. You knew that voice anywhere. Slowly, hesitantly, you turned, and there he was, Rodney. Time hadn’t been kind to him. His skin, once rich and buttery smooth, looked sunken and dry, dark circles carved beneath his hazel eyes. His frame was smaller, his once-athletic build now gaunt. He used to be fine—every girl wanted him, the older ones keeping a watchful eye, the younger ones waiting for their turn to catch his attention. He had that ’90s R&B pretty-boy look, the type of dude who stayed fresh, always smelling like cologne and bad decisions. Now, he looked like he had seen the bottom of every bottle, taken every wrong turn, and lost every battle along the way. But none of that mattered because all you could see was him. The boy who took something from you. The boy who played on your innocence, your trust. The one who made you run from this city and never look back. Your stomach twisted violently.

“It is you,” Rodney breathed, a weak smile tugging at his chapped lips. “Damn… how you been, baby girl?”

You nearly dropped the slushie as your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the hum of the store. Your hands shook as you took a step back, the nausea rising fast. You couldn’t be here. You couldn’t do this. Rodney stepped forward slightly, his hand lifting, as if he wanted to touch you, but your body reacted before your mind did. You jerked back so fast your shoulder hit the slushie machine, your breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. Rodney quickly dropped his hand, his expression flickering with something unreadable.

“S-Sunshine, I—” He attempted to say, with tears forming in his eyes. You didn’t wait to hear whatever lie he was about to tell. Grabbing the slushies, you tossed the money onto the counter and bolted. The second you hit the night air, the nausea took full control. Your stomach lurched violently, and you barely made it to the side of Terry’s truck before you doubled over, vomiting onto the pavement. Terry was there in an instant.

“Shit—” His voice was sharp with concern, one hand hovering over your back, not touching but close enough to let you know he was right there. “Breathe, ma. Breathe through it.”

You wiped your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m fine,” you choked out. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

However, Terry didn’t buy it. He knew your were lying through your teeth and if it was one thing he hated, it was liars.

His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes scanning your face, reading every emotion you were trying to bury. “Nah,” He murmured. “That wasn’t just some bad food. What happened?”

“Terry, it’s—” You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Who?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Somebody in there? Did a nigga do some shit to you in there?” He pressed harder. You exhaled shakily, gripping the truck door for support. His eyes darkened further.

“Tell me who, Y/N” He said, voice even, but you could hear the tension beneath it. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to push it down, to shove the past back into the box where it belonged. But your body wasn’t listening. Because for the first time in years, you weren’t the strong, guarded woman you had built yourself to be. For the first time in years, you were that scared 14-year-old girl again.

“C-Can we please just go home? Please?.” Your voice rasped out, clearing your throat again before spitting in remaining bile out of your mouth. Terry didn’t say anything, he just nodded, eyes on you like a hawk with a tight jaw as he opened the passenger side door for you to get in. As you’re getting in, you felt small under his gaze, almost as if he were scolding you for not being upfront about why you were fine one minute and next thing he knows you’re basically vomiting all over the pavement.

The drive home was drenched in silence. The only sound in the truck was the low hum of the radio, some old R&B record playing softly in the background. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, your mind far away from the present. You couldn’t believe after all this time you had seen Rodney. His face, his voice, the weight of his presence had pulled you right back to the past, back to that helplessness, back to that night. You gripped your thighs tightly, your nails digging into your skin as you forced yourself to focus on your breathing. Terry didn’t say a word the whole ride, but you felt his eyes flicker toward you every so often, his grip on the wheel tightening. He wasn’t the type to press for answers—not yet, anyway. He knew whatever was haunting you wasn’t something you could just spill out in the middle of a drive. So he let the silence ride. By the time you pulled up to the house, your stomach was still twisted in knots, but the second you stepped inside, you moved on autopilot going back to that all too familiar numb place. You went straight for the food. Earlier that day, before y’all left, you had cooked—a nice quick meal, something good to come back to. You turned on the stove, reheating the dishes quietly, barely paying attention to anything else. Terry, however, was watching you. His eyes followed every move you made, how your hands trembled slightly as you stirred the food, how your shoulders tensed, how you were too quiet. He didn’t like that shit. Without a word, he grabbed the bottle of Hennessy White he had picked up from the liquor store and poured a generous amount into both Big Gulp cups, mixing it with the slushies you had made earlier. When the food was ready, you placed the plates down on the table and turned to walk away, but before you could, his hand wrapped gently around your wrist.

“Sit down.” His deep voice finally spoke, making you tense. It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t rough. Just firm enough to make you pause. You swallowed, eyes locked onto the floor. Your body felt stiff, your chest tight, but you sat down next to him, grabbing your fork. Terry didn’t let go of your wrist immediately. His thumb brushed against your pulse, slow, measured.

“Tell me what happened,” He murmured. You inhaled sharply. You had fought tears all night, forced yourself to push it down, to not go back there. But with Terry sitting this close, his voice low, steady, and patient, the walls you had built started to crack. You took a slow bite of your food, chewing without tasting, your throat dry despite how much saliva gathered in your mouth. Reaching for your cup, you took a sip of the spiked slushie, the cold hitting your tongue first, then the warmth of the Hennessy settling in your chest. You swallowed, staring at the table.

Then, softly, you said, “It’s more than one reason I stopped coming down here during the summers as a kid.”

Terry didn’t move. He just listened. Your grip tightened around the cup as the words started spilling out, slow at first, then faster, like a wound being ripped open. You began to tell him about Rodney. About how, when you were just 14, he had been someone you looked up to, someone who made you feel seen in ways no one else did. You told him how he gained your trust, how he made you feel special, like you mattered—only to betray you in the worst way possible. How one summer night, when no one was around, he took something from you. How you froze. How you felt your body leave you, how the ceiling blurred, how you counted the cracks just to keep yourself from breaking. How, after it was over, you never told a soul. How you buried it, packed it away like luggage you’d never unpack. How you left town and never looked back. And how seeing him tonight, in that damn store, had ripped open everything you spent years trying to forget. By the time you finished, your hands were trembling around the cup. Your food sat untouched. Your throat burned. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, but Terry still hadn’t moved. But when you finally looked at him, his jaw was tight, his eyes dark—not just with anger, but something deeper, something dangerous. You had seen Terry irritated before. You had seen him frustrated. But this? This was different. This was fury. This was war. His grip on the cup was so tight, you thought he might break it. But when he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm.

“Say the word.” He said slowly.

“What?” You blinked, your breath catching.

His eyes met yours, steady, unwavering. “Say the word,” he repeated. “And I’ll handle it.”

The air in the room instantly shifted. Terry’s words weren’t just words—they were a promise. A quiet, dangerous assurance that if you gave him the green light, Rodney wouldn’t be breathing the same air for much longer. You swallowed, your throat dry, your chest tightening at the sheer weight of his presence.

“Terry…” You started, but your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say. He was still watching you, eyes dark, jaw tight. His fingers flexed on the table like he was holding himself back.

“Say the word,” He repeated slowly, measured. His voice was like gravel, rough with barely contained rage. “You ain’t gotta carry this no more. I’ll take care of it.”

Your stomach twisted. This was the part of Terry that made people afraid—the quiet storm before the destruction, the way he didn’t raise his voice, didn’t make threats. He just acted. But you didn’t want him to act. Not like that, and definitely not for you. Your Nana would be so ashamed if she had worked hard to keep him out of trouble and you got him into more shit. You exhaled shakily, setting your cup down before your fingers betrayed you and showed just how badly you were trembling.

“It was a long time ago,” You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Terry leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, his broad chest rising and falling steadily. His silence was suffocating. Then, finally he spoke up.

“That don’t mean shit and don’t mean it don’t still matter.” He gritted. Your breath hitched. You wanted to hold it together, to keep that wall up just a little longer, but something about the way he said it, the way he was so certain, shattered something in you. You turned your head away, blinking rapidly, but Terry wasn’t having it. Before you could even think, his fingers brushed against your chin, tilting your face back toward him. It was so gentle, so unexpected, that your breath stalled.

“I see you tryna hold it in,” he murmured. His thumb grazed your jaw, his touch featherlight but firm. “You ain’t gotta do that with me.”

And just like that, the dam broke. A tear slipped free, then another, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying. Not loud, not messy, but the kind of silent, shuddering tears that came from years of swallowing your pain. Terry didn’t speak. He didn’t try to shush you, didn’t hit you with some meaningless “It’s okay.” He just… let you cry. And somehow, that meant more than any words could. After a moment, he exhaled through his nose, rubbing a slow, careful circle against your jaw with his thumb.

“Come here,” He said, his voice softer now, deeper. You hesitated, but something about the way he said it—like he knew you needed it, like he wouldn’t push if you weren’t ready—made you cave. You shifted in your chair, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him. Terry caught you instantly. One strong arm came around your waist, pulling you effortlessly into his lap, the other resting against the small of your back. His warmth surrounded you, his scent—woodsy, clean, something unmistakably him—enveloped you. Your face pressed into his neck, his skin warm against your damp cheek. You felt his breath in your hair, slow and steady.

“I got you,” He murmured. And for the first time in a long time… you believed him. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. At some point, your tears dried up, exhaustion creeping in, your body growing heavy against his. But Terry didn’t move, didn’t rush you. His hand stayed on your back, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns through your shirt.

“You ever tell anybody?”He finally asked. You shook your head against his shoulder.

“Didn’t think so.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. A long beat of silence stretched between you before he gently spoke.

“You shoulda never had to carry that alone, ma.” He inhaled deeply.

Your throat tightened again, but this time, you swallowed it down. “I didn’t know how to tell nobody,” you admitted. “And when I finally thought about it… it was too late.”

Terry was quiet for a moment. Then—“Ain’t never too late.”

“Terry—” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

“I mean it.” His gaze was steady, unwavering. “Ain’t never too late to get what’s owed.”

A cold chill ran through you. You knew what he was saying. He wasn’t talking about healing. He wasn’t talking about moving on. He was talking about payback. You studied him, searching his face for something—anything—that would tell you he wasn’t serious. But he was. He was dead serious.

“You can’t—” Your heart pounded.

“I can.” He countered sharply.

“Terry—” You tried to speak.

His fingers flexed against your hip. “Ain’t no nigga walkin’ free after doin’ that to you. Not while I’m breathin’.”

Your stomach flipped. “I don’t want you getting in trouble for me.”

“That’s the last thing you need to worry about.” His lips pressed into a thin line. Your chest ached. This wasn’t what you wanted. You had spent years trying to put this behind you, trying to move forward. But now? Now he was bringing it all back to the surface. And worse? A small, dangerous part of you wanted to let him handle it. Terry tilted his head slightly, studying you. Then, almost like he could read your mind.

“You don’t gotta decide now.” He murmured, staring at you. You swallowed hard.

“But whenever you ready… you just say the word.” He leaned in, his lips just barely grazing your temple. And with that, the choice was yours. The two of you sat and ate your food in comfortable silence as you just tried to forget about how your past decided to pop up and be a son of a bitch. Eventually after you finished your dinner, you two ended up in the living room, the evening taking on a mind of its own.

The soft hum of ’90s R&B filled the space, smooth and sensual, engulfing the living room around the both of you. Jodeci’s “Freek’n You” played low from the speakers, the bass deep, the lyrics suggestive. You curled up beside Terry on the couch, your body warm from the Henny and slushie cocktail, the ice long since melted. The burn of the liquor coated your throat, loosening you up, making you bold. Your eyes flickered to the mantle above the fireplace, a shrine of memories—your nana’s old porcelain figurines, a few framed pictures, a vase filled with artificial roses that had collected dust over time. You exhaled, rubbing a hand down your thigh.

“I’m really gonna miss this place,” You whispered, almost to yourself.

“So don’t sell it,” He said, simple like it was an easy fix.” Terry, leaned back into the couch, his long legs spread wide, cup resting against his knee, studying you.

You snorted, shaking your head. “I am not a country girl,” You said, flashing him a playful smirk. “And besides, I don’t got a husband or kids to pass this land down to. What would I even do with all this space?”

Terry hummed, taking a slow sip from his cup. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes. Something contemplative. You let the silence stretch, the weight of everything lingering between you. The conversation had been too heavy, and you were tipsy enough to crave something lighter. An idea hit you.

Smirking, you sat up, turning toward him. “Let’s play a game,” You said, voice dripping with mischief.

“What kinda game?” Terry raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Rapid-fire 21 questions. But…” You paused, licking your lips, letting the moment breathe, “let’s make it grown.”

“Oh, you tryna be messy now?” His smirk deepened.

You laughed, shrugging. “You scared?”

“Me? Nahhh.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Aight, bet. You go first.”

You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… Favorite position?”

Terry took a slow sip before answering. “Depends on the woman. Some deserve missionary so I can look ‘em in they eyes while I fuck em’… others?” He exhaled, his voice dropping an octave. “Bent over, face down in the pillow, ass up high.”

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your composure, sipping your drink to hide your reaction.

“Your turn,” you said, clearing your throat.

Terry leaned in slightly, eyes low. “You ever faked it?”

You blinked before bursting into laughter. “Hell yeah.”

His brows lifted. “Damn. That’s crazy.”

“Not my fault some niggas don’t know what they doing,” You teased.

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s tragic.” He lifted his cup. “Rest in peace to them weak-ass performances.”

You clinked your cup against his, giggling as you both drank.

“My turn,” You said, leaning in a little closer. “Ever had sex in public?”

“Too many times to count.” Terry’s smirk widened.

“Damn. Where?” Your eyes widened.

“Cars. Stairwells. Dressing rooms. A rooftop one time…” He trailed off, eyes glinting with amusement. “You sound intrigued, ma.”

“I ain’t say all that.” You rolled your eyes, fighting back your smile.

Terry just watched you, like he could see through the front you were putting up.

“Alright, my turn,” he said, setting his empty cup down on the table. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, voice dropping into something smooth and dangerous.

“So…” He paused just long enough for the tension to coil tight between you. “That rose… it feel better than a nigga’s mouth?”

Your stomach dropped. The question hit you like a slap, and before you could stop yourself, you choked on your slushie. Coughing, you slapped a hand over your chest, eyes wide as you stared at him.

“W-What?” You coughed. Terry licked his lips, unbothered, amused even. His eyes dragged over your face, then down to your parted lips, lingering there before flicking back up.

“You heard me, ma.” His voice was deep, smooth, coated in something dangerous. “Answer the question.”

Your heart pounded, heat rushing to your face, your thighs pressing together out of pure instinct. This nigga was playing dirty. And the worst part? You liked it. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry despite the icy slushie burning your tongue. Your knees pressed together instinctively, but you forced yourself to keep eye contact, refusing to let Terry see how deep his words cut through you. His gaze was heavy, molten, dark with mischief, and he knew what he was doing. He had that lazy smirk on his lips, like he was just getting started, like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

“That’s a bold-ass question.” You cleared your throat, forcing a small smirk of your own.

“And yet, you still ain’t answer it.” Terry leaned in slightly, his broad frame dominating the space between you.

“Why? You trying to compare stats?” You shifted on the couch, swirling your drink in your cup, feigning nonchalance.

Terry let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and rich. He stretched his arm over the back of the couch, fingers just barely grazing your shoulder. “Nah. I already know my stats, ma. I just wanna know if you playin’ yourself out of a real experience.”

Your stomach dipped. This man… this nigga right here…

You exhaled through your nose, refusing to be the first to break. “The rose is efficient,” you finally answered, tilting your chin up in defiance. “It does what needs to be done.”

Terry hummed, eyes still locked on yours. “Efficient, huh? That’s cute. But a machine ain’t never gonna know what your body need the way a real nigga will.”

You should’ve seen that coming. You tried to keep your cool, but the way he said it? The way his deep, raspy voice wrapped around those words like silk? It sent a ripple of heat down your spine. You huffed, shaking your head, but your body betrayed you. Your skin was warming up, and the Henny had you feeling too damn good—a little too relaxed, a little too reckless.

So you smirked, tilting your head. “Oh? And what exactly does a ‘real nigga’ do that’s so different?”

Terry’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for a half second before that smirk of his returned—cocky, knowing.

“Everything baby.” The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, so damn confident, it had no business making you clench around nothing. You bit your lip, trying not to react, but Terry caught it. His gaze flicked down to your mouth, watching the way your teeth tugged at the soft flesh, and suddenly, the air between you shifted. He leaned in even more, his knee grazing yours, voice dropping to something silky, almost hypnotic.

“You really think that little toy can do what I can?” His fingers traced the rim of his empty cup, slow and deliberate. “That rose ain’t got no tongue. It don’t know when to slow down, when to speed up… don’t know how to tease you just right ‘til you beg for it.”

A slow, heated pulse throbbed between your thighs. You opened your mouth to clap back, but nothing came out. Your body had already betrayed you—your breathing had deepened, your skin felt too tight, too hot, and Terry was watching every little shift in your expression like he was reading you.

“See, that’s the thing, ma. A real nigga don’t just make you cum. He makes you feel that shit while he’s sucking on your clit .”He licked his lips. Your thighs clenched. Hard. This was dangerous. And what made it worse? Terry knew exactly what he was doing. You bit down on your straw, trying to distract yourself, but it only made things worse. Terry’s eyes flicked to your lips again, watching the way they wrapped around the plastic, how you pulled back slow, tongue flicking out just slightly to catch a stray drop of slushie. He smirked.

“So,” he drawled, swirling the ice in his cup. “How you like to be ate?”

Your chest seized. You choked again but this time, not on the drink, not on food—on air. Your eyes went wide as you coughed, covering your mouth, your whole body heating up like you’d been thrown into a damn furnace.

Terry just chuckled, unfazed, leaning back against the couch. “Damn, ma. That a hard question or somethin’?”

“You can’t just ask somebody that outta nowhere, Terry!” You wheezed, fanning your face.

“Why not?” He shrugged. “You grown, ain’t you?”

You sputtered, taking another sip of your drink, anything to cool yourself down, but the way he was watching you? Like he had all the patience in the world, like he was waiting for you to stop fighting yourself? That made the heat worse.

“A’ight,” He mused, his voice dropping lower, deeper. “Lemme make it easy for you. You like it soft and slow? Or deep and messy?”

Your whole body betrayed you. Your thighs pressed together before you could stop them, and Terry caught it. He didn’t say nothing—didn’t have to. The small smirk on his lips said it all.

“I—” You swallowed.

“See,” Terry cut in smoothly, shifting closer, his knee knocking against yours. “Me? I don’t play when I eat pussy, baby. I clean my plate—efficiently.”

Your breath hitched.

“I like to take my time with it. Make sure I learn every little thing that makes you shake, makes you moan, makes you beg me to stay down there a little longer.” Terry tilted his head slightly, his eyes hooded, that slow, lazy smirk still on his lips. Your fingers curled around your cup, gripping it tight.

“But I ain’t selfish,” He continued, voice like molten honey, thick and dripping with promise. “I’ll tease that pussy if that’s what you like. Kiss on her real slow. Run my tongue real soft against that lil’ spot with your piercing that makes your toes curl. But if you need it nasty?” He licked his lips, letting the sentence hang before finishing, “I’ll drown in it.”

Your stomach clenched. Your thighs trembled. The Henny was hitting too damn good now, because your head felt light, your body warm, and every single thing he was saying was burrowing deep inside you, making you ache.

You stared at him, the temptation thick between you, and whispered, “That… that sounds amazing.”

Terry’s smirk deepened, his fingers brushing lightly over your knee.

“Then let me eat you out,” He murmured. “Let me show you that rose ain’t got shit on me, baby girl.”

Between the slushy, the slow jams playing and the diabolical heat and Nana’s broken AC system. Your brain was fried as you stared in the ocean eyes of a man that was crafted by God himself, practically egging you on to let him taste what you had between your thick thighs. The thought alone of his juicy lips wrapped tightly around your sensitive bud , milking you through your orgasm already had you practically drooling in your panties. You could feel your pussy becoming slippery against your thong as it stuck to you, making you hold back a whimper. As your clit swoll with need, that damn piercing began to betray you and make you nearly cum on yourself as the seat of your panties rubbed it , creating a slow friction.

“Terry, maybe we had too much to drink—. “ You tried to say but before you could even finish your sentence, Terry was in your personal space, making your heart speed up. Terry bit his bottom lip, his eyes locked onto yours, as he slowly wrapped his hand around your throat. Your breath hitched, feeling your heart pounding in your chest, as you felt his touch ignite a fire within you. Your faces were mere centimeters apart, the tension between you two palpable. Your breathing grew heavier, your anticipation building, as Terry’s full lips finally connected with yours in a slow and nasty tongue kiss. It was as if time stood still, your lips moving in perfect harmony. Your eyes instantly fluttered shut and your hand instinctively found its way to his cheek, deepening the kiss with hunger. You couldn't resist the magnetic pull between you two any longer. You scooted closer to him, with your other hand finding its way around his neck. The music in the background seemed to fade out as the two of you lost yourselves in each other's mouths. The heat between your bodies intensified, mirroring the growing desire that pooled between your thighs.

Terry growled as his grip on your throat tightened slightly, causing you to gasp and let out a small moan. It was all the encouragement Terry needed to deepen the kiss further, his tongue sliding sensually into your mouth, swirling and teasing. You moaned, sucking his tongue, allowing your spit and his spit to intertwine. The more his tongue flicked and sucked against yours, the wetter your pussy felt. It was so slick and slippery, you could smell it through your shorts. The living room seemed to transform into a steamy haven as Terry’s strong hands began to explore your body, igniting every nerve ending along the way. Unable to contain his desire for you any longer, Terry let the kiss become more aggressive, his passion shining through every movement. You responded with small whimpers, your lips tingling from the intensity of the connection. Terry’s hold on your neck released, his lips moving down to explore the sensitive soft skin of your neck. You moaned and shuddered, feeling Terry’s tongue swirling against your neck, expertly finding the spot that drove you wild. Terry’s lips sensually kissed and sucked, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your grip on Terry’s small curls in his head tightened as your cute moans escaped your lips, only fueling Terry’s nasty desire. Terry’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you in closer, as your bodies pressed against each other.

“T-Terry, p-please.” You whimpered out breathlessly, rubbing his head. By this point you were a shaky mess and needed some relief quickly. Terry chuckled deeply in your neck, biting it slowly as he trailed his tongue upward, circling it around your earlobe before sucking it into his mouth.

“Please what baby? Hmm? Please what?.” His voice darkened, making your body quiver. As much as you tried to fight it and fight doing something you may ultimately regret. The liquor and your hormones was working against you and you said fuck it. Might as well, might as fucking well.

“Taste my pussy.” You whispered, whining for him. That was all Terry needed to hear before he pushed you back on the couch, allowing your back to rest against the pillows as he continued to leave wet open mouth kisses against your neck. Caution was to the wind at this point and damn the consequences of your actions. You needed to feel something, ANYTHING.

The heat between you two intensified, while your hands roamed freely over Terry’s toned arms, your nails grazing the surface, eliciting a groan and a moan from Terry’s throat. You watched as Terry leaned back, staring down at you as he lifted his shirt up from the back, and in an instant he had it off. You bit your bottom lip at the sight of his rich and healthy body. It was crafted to perfection and made you wanna lick every dip and curve of his cut abs. Terry’s eyes dropped lower as he watched your hand reach down and pop the button of your shorts open, letting him know you were on demon time. Terry smirked, pushing your hands out of his way before he took control, yanking the shorts off of you himself, making you gasp at his roughness. Your hips instinctively raise up to assist him in getting them off of you. Soon as your shorts came off your intoxicating arousal smell hit his nose, making his mouth instantly water.

“Fuck, your pussy so fat.” He remarked, as his ocean gray eyes stared down at the way your pussy sat against the snapped closure of your bodysuit. Your clit jumped as more of your juices seeped through your thong, creating a very noticeable wet spot on the outside of the red fabric. Terry’s eyes stay locked on yours, dark and heavy with intent, as his hands ease up under the curve of your ass, gripping you firm but slow like he’s mapping out every inch. But he doesn’t rush—nah, he takes his time, savoring every reaction, every hitched breath, every little tremble that runs through you. His lips graze over your jaw first, then lower, tracing a slow, burning path down the side of your neck. The heat of his breath makes your skin prickle, your pulse jump. He lingers at that sensitive spot near your collarbone, sucking just enough to make you squirm, his grip tightening on your hips.

“Terry…” His name slips from your lips, part plea, part warning, your fingers gripping at the solid muscles of his shoulders. He hums against your skin, deep and rich, the vibration sinking right through you.

“Relax, baby,” He murmurs, trailing his tongue down the valley between your breasts, the thin fabric of your bodysuit doing nothing to stop the warmth of his mouth. “Let me do this right.”

Your breath hitches when his hands slide down your thighs, then lower, fingers teasing at the clasp of your bodysuit between your thighs. He pauses, his grip firm but patient, his dark eyes flicking up to yours, reading you.

“You want me to stop?” His voice is thick, low, serious. Giving you an out.

You shake your head, pulse hammering in your throat. “No,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.”

That slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he flicks the snaps open one by one, the small pops echoing in the thick silence between you. The fabric of your bodysuit peels away, his fingers grazing over the newly exposed skin of your stomach, making you shudder. Terry shifts lower, dragging his hands up the backs of your thighs, his touch warm, possessive. He takes his time, savoring the way your breathing changes, the way your body reacts to him, completely at his mercy. Your breathing labors as you feel Terry’s lips trail down, slow and deliberate, leaving a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses against your belly. His warm breath fans over your skin, and the heat of his tongue sends a delicious shiver through your body.

“You smell so fuckin’ good, ma,” He rasps against your skin, his voice thick with hunger. His nose grazes the crease of your inner thigh as he inhales deeply, like he’s savoring your wet scent, like he’s already addicted. Your own arousal was beginning to invade your nose turning you on to the highest max. Your thighs instinctively try to press together, but he’s quicker, stronger. His hands slide up, firm and possessive, gripping the backs of your knees before pushing your legs back—high and open—until they’re nearly touching your stomach. With one free hand, Terry pushes your thong out of the way, snapping it at the seams, making you gasp. Your swollen pussy lips spread open instantly for him as he pushes your legs back further. He leaned in slowly and guided one of your legs over his shoulder, running his hands over your supple thighs, parting your slippery wet fat lips to kiss and lick at you swollen clit slowly. You jerked at the sudden warm sensation of his tongue. Terry’s tongue flicked back and forth rapidly against your diamond piercing that sat against your clit, making your walls gush in an instant.

“O-Ohhh fuckkkk! Shit shit!.” You hissed, toes curling in the air. You stared up at the ceiling, feeling your breaths becoming shallow as his tongue worked slow and steady patterns between your pussy folds. His right hand slid up your thigh as he dipped his tongue down further to taste what seemed to have dripped out, grunting as the sweet sensation danced on his taste buds. Your back arched into the couch as your fingers dug into the cushion beneath you, feeling his tongue swirl up and down your pussy sloppily. Your ears were graced with soft lapping sounds as his tongue danced in circles around your throbbing clit. You could feel your creamy juices seeping like liquid gold as his tongue worked in a figure eight motion. Terry slowly started to suck gently on your clit, but then he became relentless, sucking your sensitive and swollen clit into his mouth with determination and precision.

Terry groaned loudly against your skin, the vibration sending a shockwave through your body. “Mm,” he hums, his tongue flicking out to taste your clit again. “Just like I knew you would… sweet as fuck.”

“T-Terry…” Your voice is barely there, breathless, overwhelmed.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening with your creamy juices, his expression wicked. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick like molasses. “Feels good, don’t it?”

You nod, swallowing hard, your thighs trembling around his head. Soft whimpers leave your mouth as you stare at the gorgeous work of art between your thighs. Clit glistening with his spit and your juices as he kisses on it, while his eyes remained locked on yours. You purred, feeling his hand gripping your ass and running his other hand up to knead at your breasts, groaning into your slick lips like he’s the one getting pleasure from it.

He smirks. “Then let me finish my plate.”

And just like that, he dives back in, his pace slower this time, more intentional. His tongue moves in slow, sensual strokes, coaxing you higher and higher until your back arches, your fingers gripping the couch for dear life.

You try to hold back, try to contain the whimpers slipping past your lips, but Terry isn’t having that. “Nah,” he murmurs against your pussy, sending another wave of pleasure through you. “Lemme hear it, ma.”

“Oh daddy… d-don’t stop.” You shamelessly whine. His grip tightens, holding you exactly where he wants you, his tongue working you into a slow, desperate unraveling. He sucks, licks, flicks at your clit until your thighs are shaking, your breaths are coming in short, uneven gasps, and your entire body is tensed like a bowstring ready to snap. You inhale sharply, nearly convulsing, throwing your head back as your hand found its way into his curls. Your feet digging into the back of his shoulders every time he sucked a little more forcefully on your clit. You cried, trying to push his head back, but he held you down. Continuing to shake his head side to side as spit was dripping from his mouth onto your pussy, sucking at your clit with determination. You held his head and watched it go up and down and side to side, creating the perfect cadence to aid in your oncoming orgasm.

“T-Terry— FUCK! Wait— I-I ooooh I’m gonna cum!!” You squeal, feeling your pussy gushing incessantly. You pushed at his forehead again, but he wouldn’t relinquish as his lips stayed locked around your clit, sucking it harder, allowing his tongue to sit flat against it and flick back and forth.

“Oooh yesss daddy yesssss.” You whimpered louder.

He pulls back just slightly, his lips glistening as he licks them slowly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t run from it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice sinful. “Take all this shit.” And then he’s back on you, hungrier, deeper, more consuming. Holding you open, eating like it’s his last meal.

“Terry— fuck! oh my god don’t stop.. don’t stop please.” You begged holding his head in place. He used the pad of his thumbs to spread your full lips apart as his tongue circled your entrance before dipping the tip in real slow. You squealed as you felt his tongue thrusting upward against your g-spot, thumping it rapidly. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you felt yourself dampening his goatee hair.

“So fucking fat and sweet.” He groaned, wrapping his tongue around your clit, sucking all over it nastily as he pushed his face deeper. Your hips bucked upward, feeling your stomach tighten up in a knot. You knew you were about to cum and from the way he continued to assault your clit, it was gonna be intense and messy.

“T-Terry..” You managed to get out, eyes crossing as he relentlessly held your clit captive in his mouth. Terry’s eyes flickered up as he watched you, his gray eyes locked onto your face as he works you over with hard, deliberate strokes of his tongue and the sensation of his lips . He can feel every little tremor in your thighs, every sharp hitch of your breath. But he ain’t letting up. Not yet.

“Relax for me, ma,” He murmurs against you, his deep voice vibrating straight through your core. “Let me take you there.”

Your hands are gripping his curls so tight it should hurt, but he doesn’t care. He loves it—loves the way you’re coming undone just from his mouth, the way you’re trying to hold on when he knows you ain’t got a chance.

“T-Terry…” Your voice is shaky, needy, your thighs trembling in his grasp. You listened to the nasty wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy like it was a succulent piece of fruit. You squirmed beneath him, the pleasure becoming too overwhelming, but he didn’t let you play yourself out of what he knew you needed most, and that was a good nut.

“Shh, I got you.” He flattens his tongue against you, slow and deep, before switching up, flicking in a way against your clit in a turbo motion, that has your whole body jerking. He grins against you. “Damn, you sensitive as hell, baby. You been neglecting yourself or that little toy just ain’t cuttin’ it no more?”

You let out a whimper, head tipping back against the couch, body arching off the cushions. He chuckles, low and sinful, before sucking deep, rolling his tongue just right.

“Oh—fuck!” You yelp loudly, holding his head down, trying to scoot back again.

He tightens his grip when you try to close your legs, spreading you wider, keeping your pussy open for him. “Nah, don’t run now,” he rasps, lips glistening as he glances up at you. “You gon’ take all this shit. Let me hear you, baby. Let me feel you.”

He drags two fingers through your slick pussy, teasing your awaiting creamy hole before pushing them in, the cream instantly pushes against his fingers as he thrusts them slow but deep. The stretch makes you gasp, back bucking like a horse off the couch.

“That’s it,” He praises, curling his fingers just right towards your g-spot. “You feel that? Feel how my fingers fit right inside this fat pretty pussy? That little rose can’t do this, can it?”

Your breath stutters, eyes rolling back as he strokes his fingers deep, touching your cervix as he rubs your g-spot, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers, drawing you closer to your orgasm.

“I—I’m… Terry, I can’t—” You whined desperately.

“Yes, the fuck you can,” He growls, increasing his pace, pushing you right to the edge. “C’mon, baby, gimme that shit. Let me feel you cum for me.”

“I-I’m b-bout to cu—“ Your words were instantly cut short as the ache in your stomach intensified and your release shattered through you.

Terry feels it before he sees it, the way your body locks up, the way your creamy slick walls grip his thick fingers like a vice, the way your thighs tremble uncontrollably in his hands. He knows it’s coming, and he ain’t about to let up now. If anything, he doubles down, curling his fingers just right, his tongue flicking against that sensitive clit like he’s got something to prove.

“That’s it, baby,” He rasps between licks and strokes of his fingers, his deep voice vibrating through you. “Let that shit go for me. Don’t fight it. Cum in daddy’s mouth baby.”

Your breath stutters, a choked sob ripping from your lips as the pressure inside you snaps, sending you spiraling into an earth-shattering release. Your entire body jerks violently, back arching off the couch as a gush of liquid rushes out of you, soaking his hand, his wrist, his damn beard. You squirted hard as your orgasm overtook you and left you practically paralyzed.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Terry groans, voice thick with hunger as he licks and sucks clit through it, taking every drop, every last shudder. “Damn, you taste so fuckin’ good.”

“Oh—shit! Terry! YES YESSSSS! Dadddddyyyyy.” You screamed out, thrashing all over the couch as his fingers stroked you through your orgasm, milking it from you. Terry lets out a groan, deep and satisfied, as he watches you lose yourself completely, his lips glistening, his fingers still working you through every wave, every shudder. He doesn’t stop until you physically push at his head, your legs twitching in overstimulation, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Finally, he pulls back, his face soaked, his smirk downright sinful as he wipes his mouth. His eyes are locked on you and your spent, trembling body, the way you’re struggling to come back down, your chest heaving, your skin glowing.

“Fuck,” He murmurs, his voice thick with pride. “Look at this messy ass couch. Look at you, baby.” He bites his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Told you that little toy wasn’t fuckin’ with me.”

You couldn’t even form words yet, still floating in the aftershocks, but he leans up, pressing a slow, deep kiss against your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan, tongue kissing him back, getting drunk off your own sweetness and scent on his lips.

“You good baby?” He asks against your mouth, his hand stroking your thigh, grounding you. You nod weakly, eyes still dazed, lips slightly parted as you try to catch your breath.

“Y-Yes…” You gently rasp out, too spent to form a coherent sentence.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He smirks. As you lay there, still trembling from the intensity, your body aching in all the right ways, your mind is a swirl of confusion. The walls you’ve built so carefully around your heart are crumbling, and for the first time in years, you feel something close to vulnerability. Terry, with all his heat, intensity, and promises of more, has unlocked something inside you. But a part of you still wonders—should this just be a one-time thing, or are you ready to risk it all? You close your eyes, trying to breathe through the thick sexual tension that lingers in the air. But when you feel Terry’s presence next to you, his hand gently caressing your skin, the question lingers in your mind— do you really want to open yourself up to love again? Or is this simply just getting a nut in while you sort out your Nana’s last wishes?

Now ain’t this bout a bitch!………

@captainwithoutmakingitlove

@naughtynolly-blog

@theglamclosetsl

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@fakxmbj

@solunaseira

@noir-lullaby

@kirayuki22

@blyffe

@planetblaque

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@lavaniiii

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[akindaflora]

Lip Mask

Description: (Established relationship) Chan comes home after tour and can’t get enough of your lip mask and well your lips!

warning: mentions of making out, some grinding, lap sitting, one use of the word saliva, Names used Channie Bang Chan and Christopher, mentions of making a video

Definitely will be blocking no age accounts if your under 18 please avoid this one sorry :)

Author note: Did my best to correct any mistakes and rearranged some of the flow but its pretty much the same as the unedited version! Thanks again for reading. <3

Edited 1/29/25 Word Count: 1,335

It had been a rough, dry day—nothing your skincare routine couldn’t help—and your boyfriend, Bang Chan, was home after the tour. After what felt like years, nothing could ruin your afternoon, not even your boss, who was unnecessarily rude today.

Like always after your shower you dried and changed into some comfy shorts and one of Chan’s many black shirts. Washing your hands you began to first brush your teeth, next you washed your face, then you began applying your face and eye cream and finally you applied your lip mask. When you looked into the mirror you definitely weren’t that far off from a disco ball how shiny your face became.

When Chan and you first started dating you noticed how soft his lips were whenever you kissed or in general constantly not hearing him from you staring at his lips which would be followed by a blush when he called you out on it. Though he was never mad more embarrassed after you would tell him his lips looked absolutely irresistible. But because of that obsession with his lips, when winter came you noticed how cracked yours would get and even had a few days where you wouldn’t kiss him out of embarrassment. To which he would tell you after pouting for days on end, constantly telling you that no amount of crack lips could keep you away. Yet his constant support didn’t stop you from finding new ways to keep them soft and after what felt like weeks of trial and error your lips were finally as pillowy as Chans. Smiling at yourself in the mirror from the memory, you made your way to your living room. Where your boyfriend sat on the couch scrolling through streaming services with intentions to cuddle and watch anything with you. It had been a long tour and he intended to let nothing stop him and you time. At the sound of your feet softly patting on the hardwood floor, he looked up quickly smiling as his eyes met yours.

“Hello gorgeous,” he said with a smirk using one of his hands to pat the seat right next to him, “Come here,” he said quietly as he lifted the blanket specifically for living room cuddles. Quickly walking over you plopped down next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. This small jester said everything that he didn't need to put into words. “I’ve missed you too,” you said quietly to which he responded with a soft hum and an arm that softly wrapped around your back pulling you in closer if that was physically possible. “What have you decided on?” You said softly and slightly turned your head to look up at the man next to you. After a while, he didn’t respond, from what you could see he definitely had a few eye bags from all the traveling and touring. You brought your hand up to softly caress his cheek missing the softness of his skin and the warmth that followed. After being away for so long you kept talking hoping to wake up the sleepy prince.

“Mmmm, definitely not horror right? Or maybe you wanna watch a rom-com but we both know how that ends” you said with a giggle as his head leaned into your touch and yet he didn’t respond only taking in the details of your eyes, your cheeks, and your… lips? While he didn’t say anything he did giggle when you did so maybe he was just tired you thought so you kept talking.

“Ooo maybe we could watch the new season of Dr Stone or maybe Solo Level? Felix is featured on the “ You were stopped by a sudden quick peck. And before you could question him it just kept going but only on your lips. Every time you opened your mouth another attack would happen until you finally turned your head to the side in a fit of giggles.

“CHANNIE” you streaked, “stop it I just put my lip mask on” you jokingly complained.

“I’m sorry baby but your lips are just so soft” the syllables of soft coming out more like a whine from his lips. “just one more,” he said after hiding in your neck out of embarrassment.

After what felt like a few minutes but only a few seconds you sighed heavily and replied with a bemused fine.

Quickly he grabbed your face bring your lips to his own. But what was agreed upon as one peck turned into a full make-out session. He grabbed your waist nearly pulling you into his lap his other hand holding the back of your neck as if he were afraid you would pull away. But when your hands slowly crept up from his chest to move around his neck he made home of his hands softly rubbing circles with his thumb on your waist underneath the shirt you wore. Successfully pulling you onto his lap.

Your lips become messy with the mix of lip mask and the saliva that mixed between your contact with his. With the way your soft lips and his touched it was more like a pillow fight as each lip overlapped the other. Soft moans left his and your mouth, as he roughly swiped your lower half to his. You pulled back as the high of the kiss started to feel less like heaven and more like air loss. Your forehead met his with a few pants passing from your lips that met his own as you tried to breathe.

Still sitting on his lap his eyes looking intensely into yours slightly darkening as his lips were brought into a smirk. “Channie you said only one kiss that was nearly a make-out session,” you said jokingly pouting. He only quietly laughed still out of breath but as if your lips were his cure he pecked your lips more between each huff. You giggle but ultimately move your head back as his kisses move to your neck. The soft pillows left heat from his breath as they made contact.

“Channie” you whined out in between giggles still trying to catch your breath. He only sighed in the home he made into your neck taking in the scent of your freshly showered skin. “I’m sorry but your lips are incredibly soft, I just can’t get enough!” His head quickly popped out of your neck to look you into your eyes. Finally able to see his face again you noticed your lip mask making his lips extremely shiny from your little session. Shinny and extremely pink as you assumed yours to be, you moved your hands to either side of his face softly letting your thumbs run across his checks quickly swiping some of the mask that rubbed its way on the outside of his mouth before you went back in for a quick peck. Also not being able to resist now that your favorite pillows had become a shiny treat. A rich smile filled with joy popped onto his face but slowly turned into something slightly mischievous.

“Channie wait no what about-“ cut off again as he swiftly picked you up and laid your back softly on the couch as he lay over you his hands caressing the sides of your body as his lips found yours again. This kiss not lasting as long as the other but nearly as intense left you pouting from the lack of contact, “We can make a movie if you’re so worried about it” he said quickly tucking a piece of hair that lay on your cheek.

Feeling the blush on your cheeks you quickly looked to the left. Jokingly tapping his shoulder with a loud smack, his name coming out loudly from your mouth “Christopher!” All he could respond was a quick laugh as his hand brought your face back to his lips. Yeah this was definitely an afternoon for the books, how could not be just your Channie and your skin routine against the world?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After writing notes: If you made it to here thank you ❤️ This is my first time writing anything like this so i only hope i could do you all justice with this fluff. But i couldn’t help but keep thinking about this moment with Channie specially since I started doing a lip care routine. And i mean come on you’ve seen this man’s lips.

-YaYa

[mallory524]

Hii can I request John Walker (or Thunderbolts if u dont write for him) with a reader who like passes out if they overuse their powers?

tyy love ur headcanons!!

(I LOVE THIS!!)

always there for you

john walker x reader

tags- losing consciousness, canon level action/violence, teammates to lovers, comfort, implied no olivia (doesn't affect anything)

word count- 1020

notes- I am a proud John Walker girl and i straight up giggled when i saw I’d gotten a request for him😭(also you’re so sweet!! thanks!!)

The first time it happened during a mission, John thought you DIED. Even days later, he was still thinking about the moment he saw you collapse to the ground. He had rushed to your side in the midst of all the chaos and started frantically trying to find your pulse. Yelena had to tell him repeatedly that this happens to you sometimes, and that you just overdid it and you were fine. John figured she'd laugh at him for "overreacting", but she didn't. Yelena understood, and neither of them ever addressed the tears that had been in his eyes.

That whole incident forced John to address the very real feelings for you that he’d started to develop. You're so attractive and smart, and every time you use your powers, John's just mesmerized by how cool you look. He thought about you all the time, and those 40 seconds he was convinced he had lost you were terrifying. He didn't want you pushing yourself too hard like that again.

He kept worrying that all the energy you were exerting was hurting you. Whenever you guys were on missions, he’d be constantly glancing over at you to make sure you were doing okay. Sometimes he'd step in to help if he felt like you were trying to take on too much at once, even if you were handling things just fine.

As helpful as that all was, you misinterpreted it as John making fun of you. One night while putting your gear away, you noticed him closely watching you, like he was ready for you to collapse at any moment.

"Oh, cut it out, Walker."

"What are you talking-"

"I'm sorry I slowed us down that one time, it won't happen again. Geez," you had said. When you turned to meet his eyes, though, you were floored by the amount of real concern in them.

Instead of arguing back like he always does, John just sort of wearily throws his hands up in surrender. "Sorry. I know you know what you're doing."

Things were different after that. You were both terrible at communicating with one another about your feelings. About 3 months later, you actually started being honest with each other and a relationship started!

Now, you don't feel like you always have to hide your affection or your concern for one another, because it's all out there in the open.

John is way more comfortable letting you know he worries about you than he was before. He has trouble with the words sometimes, but he shows it in little ways.

He washes your suit, awkwardly folds it, and leaves it on your bed the night before a mission. He fills up your water bottle and he makes sure you're getting enough to eat. He knows that if you overuse your powers, you'll pass out anyway and a balanced meal probably won't change that, but he figures it can't hurt. He's your biggest cheerleader, and everyone jokes that he's the one running the fan account they found that posts clips of you from the news and other public appearances. John says that “obviously” he doesn’t have time to run a fan account, but he does at least follow it.

Despite his constant reminders not to overdo it, it still happens. John’s always there to carefully scoop you up and take care of you for the rest of the day.

One night, you guys are way outnumbered, and John's trying to fight this guy who’s definitely been enhanced in some way.

John might be doing okay now, but he's getting tired and the man's started to get the better of him. He's far away from you, and this man is obviously powerful, so you're really going to need a lot of energy to hurl this guy out of the way. That's energy you don't really have.

More people are closing in on you and that man is starting to pummel John and the rest of your friends are getting ambushed too- it's too much. You know you’re running out of steam and now you're getting overwhelmed. You take a deep breath in, try to steady yourself, and you finish this. Your moves are intentional and carefully aimed in many directions, but anyone watching would just see one big burst of light that illuminates the dark street and ends the entire fight. When the dust settles, all of your adversaries are down, but so are you. You don't do that kind of thing often; it's too much at once, and it's too much on your body.

When you wake up, you're in the car, and John is tending to your injuries and Alexei high fives you, saying you did a great job.

You're injured, you can feel that, but you notice John's pretty roughed up, himself. "Are you okay?" you ask him quietly through a yawn.

"Oh yeah. I heal quickly, you know. That guy was just really strong. You're a lot stronger than I think you realize, too."

You wince upon hearing that, even though John's softly smiling at you and clearly not mad. "Yikes, sorry. I was hoping you wouldn't get caught in the crossfire."

He just kisses your forehead.

"Don't apologize. But stop overworking yourself... and don't do that move again, it was terrifying."

"Well, stop trying to take on the scariest people we run into, that's terrifying," you say as you reach for the first aid kit to patch up a long cut on John's face, but he gently swats your hand away.

"No, get more rest. I'm fine. Lay back down. It's a long drive."

You don't even try to argue with him on this one. You're exhausted.

You know how the rest of tonight will go, too. John will make sure no one wakes you up again for the rest of the car ride, and then he'll carry you back into the tower and gently set you down on your bed. He'll be there for you in the morning to help you with anything you might need help with. He'll always be there for you. No matter what.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Love's Punishment 🏛️

⚣🏛️ A/N → If y'all knew how many times I deleted and restarted this entire thing... I don't even remember how I got this idea, I just remember wanting to write an obsession/love spell fic where some male superheroes go batshit crazy & horny over the reader. Either way, hope you all enjoy it. WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | OMEGAVERSE | Canon-Typical Violence | Alpha Barry Allen/Flash | Alpha Hal Jordan/Green Lantern | Alpha Clark Kent/Superman | Demigod-Omega Male Reader | Obsessive Behavior/Actions | Attempted Non-Con | Dub-Con | Oral Play | Knotting | Bonding Marks | Sneaky & Meddlesome Gods & Goddesses |

Prompts Used: @rednsuch – #39 “Just the smell of you gets me excited, darling.” – #13 “Stop being such a brat.”

⚣🏛️ Summary → One may ask what it's like having a God or Goddess for a parent. Honestly, not fun, and Y/N is a perfect example of that considering how he's being punished by his mother. How do you even bring up this level of mommy issues in therapy?

⚣🏛️ Word Count → 6.2K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🏛️

Daddy issues this, and Daddy issues that.

What about the people who have mommy issues? Because they exist, and Y/N would be shocked if anyone else’s relationship challenges with their mother were similar to his own.

Truthfully, he would never understand or believe the idea that someone could have sex and procreate with a god or goddess and not have one clue. There was no divine light following behind them? No wisps of magic or sparkles. No flowers and bright auras left in their footpaths?

Nothing, not a single clue?

Bullshit.

You may ask yourself, “Y/N, whatever could be wrong with someone having adult fun and having children with a god or goddess?”

Lots of things, actually. There could be an encyclopedia on why that could be a bad idea with lots of consequences to follow. Too many to get into right at this moment considering he was busy trying to cover his head and face from getting blasted while hanging off a superhero’s shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

Getting punished by a god or goddess was not for the weak.

No kid liked getting in trouble and punished by their parents. It was a very unpleasant and frustrating feeling when you had to answer for something you either 100% did without thinking of the circumstances, or something that happened and you were the victim of said circumstances.

But imagine getting punished by your God or Goddess parent for something that you had no control over. Even more, something said parent was directly responsible for!

The hypocrisy of it all.

Y/N’s father was a handsome man. Their genes were always divinely blessed, the Alpha always liked to joke, and the young Omega didn’t realize the irony of that statement until he got older and started questioning things.

Whenever he thought about changing his appearance or switching something up, it happened immediately without any action or movement from him. At one point during some teenage life crisis, he wanted to go blonde but didn’t even need to purchase dye. One moment he’s looking at his natural hair color and looks down to grab his comb. Next thing he knows, he’s got a full head of blond hair in the exact style he imagined. And it looked goood.

There was another time when he wished in his head that the sweater he was eyeing while shopping was gray instead of red, but according to the store, they never produced that particular color. When he went to go look at other options, imagine his surprise when he turned back two minutes later and it seemed as if the store did indeed have gray. And from a closer look, they only had gray. Starting to see the point?

Y/N could read people like a book, especially pertaining to feelings of affection, desire, and jealousy. Imagine the ability to feel someone’s very adult-like feelings, and you hadn’t even hit puberty yet. His dad had to have the birds and the bees talk with him much earlier than planned.

One of the most concerning things was Y/N's naturally attractive aura and charming voice. Though, he couldn’t tell if it was his voice or just the words he spoke that were attractive. But, people seemed to flock to him like moths to a flame. Even at a young age, many fought for his attention, whether it was classmates, friends, family, or strangers he’d run into when out with his dad.

It was normal for an Omega to be highly desired and sought after by Alphas, but it wasn’t just them fighting for his attention. Y/N had Betas and Omegas alike competing with each other for the chance to get acquainted with him.

By the time he entered high school, on record, he had up to four secret admirers (and two stalkers), and when things only seemed to get more out of control, that’s when his dad finally decided to sit him down and explain the truth to him.

“So, yeah. Probably should have told you this when you were younger, but your mom’s Aphrodite.”

…

Not joking, he 100% said it just like that.

Of course, you can imagine the Omega’s confusion and somewhat anger that this information had been withheld for most of his life. Now, not only did Y/N have to deal with the everyday struggles of life and being an Omega, but he also had to balance being the demigod son to the Goddess of Beauty, Love, and Desire. When you think about it, it made the Omega thing 10x more stressful than it already was.

This was the type of shit people wrote and fantasized about.

Wait a sec…

…

Nah.

Now, back to the beginning, since we have some more context, what was this so-called punishment, and why did it have Y/N grumbling about mommy issues while being whisked around the nation’s capital as some superheroes had it out with each other over who got to claim his body affection?

Oh, nothing serious, really. Just mommy dearest trying to interfere with her son’s love life! Who knew the immortal parents were privy to the same, petty tactics as their mortal counterparts…

Unlike most others who would be excited at the thought of being the child of Aphrodite, Y/N felt he had an unfair advantage when it came to dating and relationships, given his semi-godly abilities and gifts. After his last relationship ended in a horror show with a sequel he promised would never see production, he swore off dating and romance for good.

Well, that didn’t fly too well with Aphrodite. Her children, full-blood and half-blood, were always known for their romantic escapades. One of them was the face of Valentine’s Day! Well, his cousin from Rome was, at least.

So, with the help of her son and Y/N’s half-brother, Eros, God of Love, Lust, and Sex, (the mentioned Greek cousin to Cupid) they set up a little divine punishment for the young Demigod to teach him a lesson for rejecting his goldy heritage. It also paid off as insurance, just in case.

Deities and their children were always known to be stubborn little beings.

Aphrodite sent Eros down to Earth to follow his half-blood sibling around, observing his actions and who he interacted with. And, for any male Alpha that the Omega came in contact with, the God of Lust was to ensure a connection was established between the two if he deemed them worthy enough.

Simply put, he was to shoot male Alpha he figured his mother would approve as a match for her son/his brother in the ass with a love arrow. Now, why she told him to shoot only male Alphas and not female, you’d have to ask her.

Mother knows best.

Unlucky for Y/N, they chose one of the worst days to do that when he happened to be in Washington, D.C. for a work-related trip.

Do you know what else is in Washington, D.C.? The Justice League headquarters.

But, why would that be a problem? Do you really need an explanation?

Imagine how interesting it would be if, at the same time Y/N happened to be in Washington, D.C., one of the famous Justice League heroes like Flash, Green Lantern, or Superman happened to be there as well. Picture how tempting of an opportunity it would be for Eros after he was told to find the best potential matches for his little brother.

Pretty damn tempting if you ask anyone else.

Now, if we’re being truthful, Superman was Eros’ ideal choice for his brother, knowing their mother would definitely approve of the relationship between her son and the Kryptonian. Even if he wasn’t an Alpha due to his alien biology, he still had all the ideal traits of one. Not to mention his strong features and handsome looks.

But, he wasn’t opposed to one of the other heroes like Flash or Green Lantern. And when the latter had been the one to save Y/N during some random battle that broke out between the League and some villains, he figured why not just shoot them all and see who came out on top?

Plus, he was the God of Sex just as much as he was of Love. He wanted to see who out of the three heroes had the sexual prowess to handle someone like his brother. Prude or not, being mated to a child of Aphrodite meant you had to be strong in a lot of ways, especially when it came down to the nitty and gritty.

And who said he couldn’t get a little entertainment out of this?

That entertainment is what led Y/N to his situation of being carried throughout the city like some prize while the world’s defenders fought with each other like kids trying to get the last cookie in the jar.

As said, it started with Green Lantern rescuing him and carrying him away to some random rooftop. Everything seemed normal until Y/N noticed a change in the hero and his sudden lustful gazes that were being directed at him. He'd been on the receiving end of a fair amount of adoration and attention by admiring and persistent Alphas, but this he could tell was something different.

And it was.

Eros had shot Green Lantern with the love arrow while they were still in the sky. Now, instead of thinking about the fight he was leaving his comrades to handle by themselves without his assistance, all his thoughts were centered around the Omega in his arms and how blessed he was to be in the presence of such a radiant being.

And how much he couldn't wait to claim his body all for himself. Besides, no one was more fitting or deserving of an Omega of Y/N's stature than the Green Lantern himself. At least, that's what his love-delusioned, and frankly, naturally egotistical mind believed.

Y/N didn't have time to even question what was going on before the green-clad hero had whisked him away to a rooftop, not too far from where the fight was happening. He figured it was over after that and the Alpha would return to his comrades after setting him down.

Imagine the Omega's shock when he found himself pressed against a wall, the hero kissing and nuzzling his neck while running his hands down his body.

"W-What are you doing?" Y/N stuttered out, trying to push the man away but to no avail.

"What does it look like? I'm saving you," The hero's voice was gruff and desperate, and the Omega was starting to get concerned.

"Okay, but this is less saving and more of molesting," Y/N struggled, having his arms pinned against the wall before feeling a hand running down his body towards his pants.

"I'm saving you from other Alphas trying to claim you. After this, you'll belong to me, and me only," Lantern growled gruffly in his ear, an aggressiveness that was all too familiar to the Omega. He'd seen this behavior before but didn't have much time to think about it as the hero started unbuttoning his pants.

"W-Wait! Stop!"

"No, I can't," Lantern shook his head, his eyes glazed over.

"You're under a spell or something!" Y/N tried again, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"I can't stop myself. I need you now," The hero growled, finally pulling the Omega's pants and underwear down before undoing his own and pulling out his throbbing, hard cock.

"No! Stop! You don't want to do this!"

"Stop being such a brat. I need to do this," Lantern's voice was firm and demanding.

Before the green-clad hero could achieve his objective, he was suddenly yanked off the Omega by a red and yellow blur, electricity crackling off it. The Omega after realizing he was free wasted no time in pulling his underwear and pants back up, watching as the blur, now recognized to be Flash, was currently fighting with Green Lantern near the edge of the rooftop.

"What are you doing, man?!" Flash yelled, trying to restrain the other hero.

"Let go of me, I need to save him!" Lantern growled, fighting the speedster's hold.

"From what?" Flash questioned, looking at the Omega confused.

"He's mine!"

"He's not yours!"

"Yes, he is!"

"GL, you need to get a grip."

"He's my Omega! I need to mark him!"

From his position, Y/N could see Flash was struggling to hold the other Alpha down and figured he should probably make his exit right about now. He made his way over to the fire escape, about to climb over until a figure floated up from below.

Superman, ever in his large and slightly intimidating form with his cape blowing in the wind looked down at the Omega with a smile, offering his hand, "Need some help?"

The Omega smiled with a soft blush, trying to quell his nerves at the Alpha's admittedly very handsome and chiseled face. Again, the Omega was no prude, nor was he oblivious to all the gossip and rumors of the world's protectors and their handsome and muscular figures. The latter was made even more prominent by the tight nature of their uniforms.

Y/N would be lying if he said he wasn't looking at Flash's prominent glutes hidden under the red spandex.

But, before the Omega took the Kryptonian's equally large hand, he noticed something in the background. The fight that initially led to this whole mess was still going on. Yet, three of the main superheroes involved in that fight were over here. Flash, he threw to the back of his mind since the speedster did technically save him. But, why was Superman here?

That's when Y/N noticed something in the Kryptonian hero's eyes. An expression almost identical to the one he just saw in Green Lantern.

Uh oh.

Before the Omega could even react, the Alpha had already scooped him up into his arms and flew off into the sky.

"H-Hey! Put me down!" Y/N stuttered, struggling in the Alpha's hold.

"I can't. I need to save you," Superman's voice was low and deep, and the Omega could feel the vibrations from his chest.

Hmm, where had he heard that before?

"Save me from what?"

"Other Alphas trying to claim you," The Kryptonian explained, and Y/N could have sworn he heard a growl in his voice.

A nervous feeling settled into his stomach, and if he wasn't careful, he'd find himself falling prey and submissive to the very situation he was trying to find a way out of. Being Aphrodite's son as mentioned before, he had an extraordinary gift with the power of emotions and desires. He could project his feelings of desire and love onto others, just as much as he could mirror them.

Another one of those aforementioned consequences of deities breeding with mortals.

The only thing Y/N struggled to figure out though was why all of this was happening. He'd never had a run-in with any of these heroes before, and the only time he'd seen behavior like this was when it was related to his...

...Of course.

His mother.

Now, everything was starting to make sense. This could only be the work of mommy dearest, and if Y/N had to guess, his half-brother Eros as well.

He'd have to deal with that problem later, though. Right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand, and that was escaping the arms of a very powerful, very strong, and very horny superhero.

"You're mine. I'll protect you from the others," Superman continued, and Y/N could feel a slight rumble in the Alpha's chest.

"I'm not yours," The Omega shook his head, continuing to struggle.

"Yes, you are. You're mine," The Kryptonian's grip tightened, and the Omega winced at the pain.

Y/N looked down and quickly rid himself of any thoughts that he could survive a fall from this height. Even if he was Aphrodite's son, he lacked something vitally important that his mother and brother both possessed. Immortality.

Hopefully, he could figure another way out of this.

He knew there was no reasoning with the Alpha. As long as he was under Eros' spell, no amount of logic or reasoning would get through to him. As cliché as it may sound, Y/N needed a divine intervention.

Thankfully, it seemed as if one was on the way.

Trails of green energy suddenly surrounded the pair, forming a giant floating cage. Superman turned to see his comrade, having escaped from Flash's grasp flying toward them.

"Get away from him!" Green Lantern yelled, flying towards the duo.

"No! He belongs to me. You have no right to him Lantern," Superman shouted back, clutching the Omega closer.

"You're not even a real Alpha, Clark! You're not even strong enough to make an Omega like him submit to you."

"What did you just say?!"

"You heard me, you fake-ass Alpha. I'm the only one worthy enough for him. Not some alien trash!"

"Why, you-"

Before the two could continue their argument, a vortex suddenly surrounded the two, causing Lantern to lose his focus. The energy cage surrounding the Kryptonian and Omega dissipated and the force from the vortex sent the two heroes to lose their flying. Superman tried his best to stay in the air, but the sudden force was too much and caused him to crash into a nearby building while Lantern crashed into a dumpster.

The Kryptonian managed to shield the Omega from the damage and brunt of their fall by wrapping him in his body. When Y/N realized they weren't falling anymore and had come to a complete stop, he peeked from the Alpha's hold, just in time to see the return of a certain Speedster who must have run up the side of the building to where they were now.

"Are you guys alright?" Flash asked, his eyes landing on the Omega in Superman's arms.

"I'm fine," Y/N nodded, and Flash sighed in relief.

"A vortex, Flash? Really?" Superman questioned with a raised eyebrow, still holding the Omega to his body.

"It was the quickest way to get you two out of the air without hurting anyone," Flash defended, crossing his arms.

"By throwing us into a building?"

"Better than the ground."

"You could have gotten him killed!"

"You were the one holding him!"

"Guys, I'm fine. I promise," Y/N interrupted, and the two Alphas turned to him.

"See, he's fine. Let's get back to the fight," Flash suggested, turning to leave.

"No, not until he's mine," Superman shook his head, and the Omega groaned. He stood up from the ground, letting the Omega stand on his own feet, but keeping an arm wrapped body to prevent him from running off.

"Not this again," Flash sighed, turning back, "You can't claim him."

"And why not?"

"Because he's mine," Lantern's voice suddenly joined the conversation, and the three turned to see the hero, seemingly recovered from his fall, walking towards them.

"No, he's mine!" Superman shouted, his eyes suddenly glowing red as he pointed them at the green-clad hero.

"Clark, no!" Flash shouted, holding his arms up in an attempt to stop the Kryptonian.

"No, he's mine. He's mine. He's mine!" The Kryptonian yelled, his eyes getting brighter.

"Clark, you're gonna kill him!"

"I don't care, Barry. No one is taking my Omega from me."

"He's not yours to claim," Lantern shouted back.

While this was all happening, everyone was oblivious to the new presence that had joined him. Only, none of the heroes could see him. Only Y/N could, and that was a very big problem.

"Eros..." Y/N muttered under his breath, narrowing his gaze at his half-brother who held a mischievous grin on his face while positioning himself slowly behind the speedster.

When Y/N realized what he was doing, he struggled in the Kryptonian's grip, "Eros, no!"

But, it was too late. The deity had taken his shot at the Flash, hitting him perfectly square in the back. The speedster flinched at the impact, turning to look around but finding nothing there, at least, nothing his sight could see. But, when he turned his gaze back around and they fell on the Omega still trapped in Superman's hands, an identical glaze to match the one in the other heroes fell over his eyes. One the half-blood was all too familiar with.

"Oh fuck..." Y/N muttered under his breath.

"Mine," Flash growled, his eyes trained on the Omega.

Before either of the two other heroes could react, Flash sped forward and landed a bunch of fast punches and blows on the Kryptonian, causing him to lose his grip on the Omega.

"Flash, what are you doing?" Lantern yelled at his comrade.

"Taking what's mine," The speedster responded, a charming but crazed look in his expression.

He grabbed Y/N and threw him over his shoulder, the Omega flailing in his grip while also trying to hold on tight as the speedster sped around the space, avoiding attacks from both Green Lantern and Superman at the same time.

"He's not yours, Barry!" Superman shouted, his heat vision shooting at the speedster who avoided it with ease.

"Yes, he is! He's mine!" The speedster yelled, clutching the Omega tighter.

"No, he's mine," Lantern yelled back, sending a giant fist toward the speedster who avoided it in a blur.

"No, he's mine!" Superman yelled, sending his heat vision at Lantern who in turn blocked it with a shield.

"No, he's mine!" The two shouted together, and the fight resumed.

Y/N, still trapped in the speedster's arms, watched helplessly as the Kryptonian and Lantern focused their attacks on each other, feeling a pat on his ass from the speedster who tightened the grip he had around his legs.

"Don't worry about them, beautiful. They're not worthy enough to have you. I am. You'll be mine, and I'll protect you from the others," Flash's voice was husky, and the Omega could feel his heart pounding against his chest.

"You're under a spell, Flash. You don't want to do this," Y/N tried to reason, but the speedster just laughed.

"Oh, but I do. I didn't know what actual life was until just a few minutes ago when I gazed upon you. and now that I have you, I can finally make you mine," Flash smirked, and the Omega gulped.

Flash sped out of the building with the Omega over his shoulder still, the two other Alphas only noticing their disappearance after they were already a mile down the street.

"Shit, where did he take him?" Lantern asked, looking around.

"I don't know," Superman answered, "But we'll find him. And when we do, you'll be the one who has to step aside."

"Like hell, I will!"

While those two continued to bicker, Flash ran himself and the Omega all the way back to Central City. Y/N was amazed at how he didn't pass out from the speed and movement, but he was grateful he didn't. Also, having superspeed may have made it a bit easier.

Just a guess.

When they finally came to a stop, the Omega was set down on his feet, and he looked around to see they were in some bedroom.

"Where are we?" Y/N asked, trying to keep his composure.

"My bedroom," Flash answered, his eyes still glazed over.

"Oh," Y/N nodded, a nervous feeling in his stomach.

"Don't worry, you're safe here," The speedster walked towards him, and the Omega backed away, "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You say that, but your eyes say otherwise," Y/N responded, continuing to back away until he hit the wall.

"I know. But, I can't help it. I need to have you," Flash smirked, and the Omega felt his arousal getting excited in his pants.

"I'm not yours to have," Y/N shook his head, his heart pounding.

"Yes, you are," Flash's voice was firm, and the Omega felt his resolve fading.

"I-I'm not," Y/N stuttered, his knees getting weak.

"Yes, you are," The speedster was in front of him, and Y/N could feel his breath on his skin.

"I'm not," Y/N shook his head, but his voice was barely a whisper.

"You are," Flash whispered, his face close to the Omega's.

The very thing Y/N was concerned about happening when he was trapped with Superman earlier began to manifest, much to his fear. His divine abilities were reacting to his body's 'chemistry spikes' and now, he was beginning to mirror the Alpha's current feelings toward him, including the obsessive ones, which were now clouding his judgment.

"I'm not," Y/N shook his head, his breathing getting labored.

"You are," Flash whispered, his lips getting closer to the Omega's.

"I'm not," Y/N stuttered, his body giving in.

"You are," Flash whispered, pressing his lips to the Omega's.

"I'm not," Y/N muttered against his lips.

"You are," Flash said firmly, pulling the Omega's body closer to him.

In a move Y/N thought was him going to push against the Alpha in an attempt to resist his seductions, he actually was running his hands up and down the spandex-covered muscles. His legs were spread open by the speedster as he hoisted him up, wrapping them around his waist while pressing him to the wall, kissing him even harder while undressing his clothes.

"You're mine, Y/N," The speedster whispered, his lips trailing down the Omega's neck, "All mine."

"I'm yours, Barry," Y/N panted, his body flushed. Y/N remembered hearing Superman call the speedster by that, figuring it must have been either his civilian name or a codename they had. Either way, he could see from the delighted expression across the Flash's face and his blue eyes through the slits of his mask that he was very pleased by it.

"Say it again."

"I'm yours, Barry. I'm yours."

"That's right, beautiful. You're mine, and I'm yours. You'll never have to worry about other Alphas again, because I'll protect you from them."

The sun's light cascaded through the open windows in the bedroom as the two continued frotting against each other against the wall. Barry trailed his kisses from Y/N's lips down to his neck and eventually to his naked chest, before sucking on his wet nipples while the Omega through his head back in pleasure, the Alpha looking up at him with his blue eyes before taking his lips away from the leaking nubs.

"Do you like that, darling?" Barry asked, and the Omega nodded, his eyes glazed over, "Are you ready for more?"

"Y-Yes, Alpha," Y/N nodded, his breath labored.

"Good boy," Barry whispered, his voice husky and deep. He kissed the Omega one last time on the lips before pulling him away from the wall, carrying him bridal style to the bed.

Barry laid the Omega down, the latter spreading his legs open in submission and invitation, and the former smirked, climbing on top of the bed. Barry pressed kisses to the side of the Omega's neck again, right over his scent gland before taking a big sniff.

"Just the smell of you gets me excited, darling."

Barry's hands roamed the Omega's upper naked body, feeling the smooth and soft skin while trailing his fingers down his sides and to his hips. Y/N gasped, his hands gripping the sheets as the speedster's fingers teased the inside of his thighs.

"I love the way your skin feels, and the way your body reacts to me," Barry whispered, his nose pressing into the Omega's scent gland.

"Barry," Y/N moaned, his body arching off the bed.

"Say it again," Barry growled, his hands squeezing the Omega's hips.

"Barry," Y/N moaned, his eyes closed.

"That's right, baby. I'm Barry, and you're mine," Barry whispered, his fingers moving up the Omega's inner thighs.

"I'm yours," Y/N nodded, his legs spreading open even wider.

However, before Barry could move to remove the Y/N’s pants, the Omega whined at him, tugging on the spandex of his suit and mask with his hands causing a cheesing smile to appear across the Alpha's face.

"Aw, you want to see me out of my suit, don't you, darling?" Barry asked, and the Omega nodded frantically.

"Yes, Alpha. Please."

"Good boy," Barry praised, and the Omega whimpered.

He quickly removed his gloves and masks, tossing them aside before unzipping the top of his suit and pulling it off, revealing his sculpted and muscled chest. Y/N's eyes widened in delight and appreciation at the sight, reaching his hands out to touch the smooth and pale skin.

The Omega moaned happily at the sight, running his hands down the hard pecs and abs while leaning up to press his own kisses against the skin. Barry shuddered above him from the move while resuming his earlier actions of removing the offending pants and underwear that were hiding his prize from his sight.

Tossing the pants aside, he leaned up and took in the sight of the fully naked Omega, writhing on his sheets and whining for him, feeling his own throbbing hard erection under his suit pants.

"Look at you, darling. So beautiful, and all mine," Barry ran his hands down the Omega's sides, creating a tickling feeling that had the smaller male giggling, "I can't wait to claim your body, all for me," he growled, voice husky with want.

Barry kissed his way down the Omega's chest, taking a moment to bite and lick at the leaking nubs again before gripping his thighs and spreading them open. He positioned his head between the open legs while staring at the tight, slick-producing hole in front of him. He lapped his tongue to gather of taste of it on his tongue, Y/N flinching violently at the sensation while calling out the Alpha's name.

"Delicious," Barry muttered, before diving in on the wet treat in front of him.

"Oh fuck," Y/N moaned, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

Barry's tongue lapped at the dripping slick, his hands gripping the Omega's thighs tight and pushing them open even further to gain better access. Y/N moaned, his back arching off the bed while the Alpha's tongue entered his hole, tasting him from the inside.

"Barry, please. Please, I need it. Please," Y/N begged, his body shaking with arousal and want.

Barry didn't listen to him though, he kept feasting on the Omega's arousal while using his speed to vibrate his tongue inside him, causing the Omega to moan even louder, his body shaking with pleasure.

"Barry, please! a-ah, fuck ... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking even more.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me," Barry asked, pulling his tongue out and looking at the Omega with a smirk.

"I-I need you... Please, please," Y/N begged, and the Alpha smiled.

"You want me, baby?"

"Yes, Alpha. Please, I need you. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

The Alpha discarded the rest of his suit and underwear, his throbbing erection springing free, causing the Omega to lick his lips at the sight. Barry chuckled at his reaction while pulling him down the bed and picking him up in his arms, wrapping the smaller male's legs around him and pressing him against the wall.

Barry played with his cock against the Y/N's wet heat, enjoying the pleasurable reactions that ran across the Omega's face. "Who's your Alpha?" He asked with another playful smack of his mushroom head against the hot and throbbing entrance.

"Y-You, Alpha," Y/N panted, his face red and eyes glazed over.

"That's right, baby. I'm your Alpha," Barry whispered before he slowly slid inside the Omega.

"Fuck!" Y/N yelled, his head leaning back against the wall.

"So tight and warm. It's like you were made just for me, baby," Barry moaned, his cock pushing all the way in until his balls were pressed against the Omega's ass.

Y/N dug his nails into the skin of Barry's shoulders while the Alpha pressed him harder against the wall, his hips rapidly moving back and forth as he fucked him hard. The speedster's hips and legs were already dripping with more and more of the Omega's arousal as it dripped into his carpet, creating more of a mess the harder he thrust in and out of the hole.

"h-harder ... p-please, harder ..." Y/N moaned, his eyes closed while Barry sucked on his neck.

"So beautiful," Barry growled, his hands gripping the Omega's ass cheeks while thrusting harder, "Such a good little Omega, taking my cock so well."

"Barry! Barry!" Y/N moaned, his legs wrapped tighter around the Alpha's waist.

"Say it again," Barry growled, his hips moving faster.

"Barry!" Y/N moaned, his back arching.

Suddenly, Barry got the bright idea to add his speed to it, making his hips move at a pace that would be deemed impossible for any regular human. Good thing he wasn't a regular human. However, the increase in speed had Y/N shouting at the top of his lungs, tears springing to his eyes as he pounded his fists against the Alpha's hard, mildly sweaty chest.

Meanwhile, Y/N was a soaking mess. The shine from the sweat all around his body was highlighted by the sun's fading rays and the increasingly bright glow from the streetlights outside the window. Combined with the sticky fluid still leaking from his chest and the slick that was all but splashing between the Alpha and Omega.

"That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all," Barry growled, his hips moving faster.

"Barry, I-I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum," Y/N cried, his legs shaking.

"Do it. Cum for me, baby," Barry commanded, and the Omega followed.

"Fuck!" Y/N screamed, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head as he came between the two, digging nails into Barry's sweaty back as his release overwhelmed him.

"That's a good Omega," Barry said, before slipping out of the smaller male, carrying him over to the bed and propping him up on all fours.

He gripped the Omega's hips, sliding back inside him and fucking him at a rapid pace, his hips slapping against the plump ass cheeks. Y/N's eyes rolled back into his head as he cried out, his body shaking with pleasure while the Alpha fucked him.

"That's it, baby. Take it," Barry growled, his grip tightening on the Omega's hips.

"p-please, I can't... FUCK! I can't take anymore... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking as the Alpha started using his powers again to increase his speed.

"You can, and you will," Barry growled, his hips moving even faster.

"Barry, please! Fuck, I'm gonna... !"

"Do it. Cum for me, baby. Cum for your Alpha," Barry growled.

"mm ... mmh ... ! O-OHH, FUCK ... !" Y/N shouted, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head as he came, his legs and body shaking from the overstimulation as the Alpha started to chase his own finish.

Barry's knot started to form at the base and slowly was inching closer and closer as the Alpha fucked the Omega who was beginning to softly cry from the amount of pleasure and pain he was experiencing. His hands weakly tried to push against the speedster's hips in an attempt to slow him down but were snatched together in a grip while feeling a painful smack against his ass.

"Don't try and fight it, baby. Just let me claim you. Just let me have you," Barry growled, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Barry, I-I can't ... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking.

"Yes, you can. Just a little longer," Barry's hips started to stutter, and the Omega cried out, his legs shaking as he felt the Alpha's knot starting to press against his hole.

"Barry, please! PLEASE ... !" Y/N sobbed, his body convulsing on the inside from the overwhelming sensation.

"Just a little longer, baby. Just a little longer."

"I-I can't... Please, I can't ... !"

"Almost there, baby. Who's your Alpha?"

"Y-You... You are ... !"

"That's right, baby. I'm your Alpha. And, now I'm gonna make you mine. Forever."

With that, Barry pressed all the way inside, releasing his knot into the Omega with a loud groan as he leaned forward, catching himself on the bed as Y/N had his third orgasm against the sheets, suddenly feeling heavy and drained from the strenuous workout he just went through.

While the pair were both recovering, neither of them realized the small, matching marks that slowly appeared over their scent glands. They were now a fully mated pair, and the God of Love and Sex knew this as he peered in through the window, watching the sweaty individuals with satisfaction.

"Welp, my job's done. I'm sure Mother will be pleased with this outcome. Serves you right, brother. You should know better than to try and deny your heritage. Hope you learn well from this punishment."

With that, the deity disappeared, making his way home.

Meanwhile...

"That should be the last of them," Lantern said, flying through the air after he captured the last of the attacking minions.

"Good," Superman nodded, his eyes still glowing white as he scanned the area.

"What are you doing?" Lantern asked, looking at the Kryptonian confused.

"Looking for him."

"Who?"

"The Omega."

"Oh yeah, do you think Barry already claimed him?"

"Probably, but it doesn't matter. Cause he belongs to me, and I'm going to take him back, by whatever means necessary."

☀️ | Barry Allen/Flash | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[wonderjanga]

Is He Your Father Or Not?

Some people realize that Billy Batson, the Whiz Kid, looks a lot like Captain Marvel. They have the same dimples, same eye color, same hair color, and cleft chin. Not only that, but the Whiz Kid is where people mail fan mail for the Big Red Cheese. (idk if this is canon but it is in my heart), It’s also where people ask questions about Cap, which the kid somehow knows the answers to. And as for the cherry on top? Whenever the kid reports fights and incidents surrounding Marvel, they’re all extremely detailed as if he had been there! Who else but Marvel could’ve told him about certain details? So, in conclusion, they have to father and son! And if not, are they siblings? Is Marvel his uncle? His cousin? *Billy is doing a Q&A where people call the station and he answers their questions*

Billy: “Hello caller, what’s your question?”

Caller: “Hi! I’ve been a fan of this show for a long time, and I’ve been wondering this for a while so this was my perfect chance to ask! Is Captain Marvel your dad? You two look so much alike.”

Billy: “Haha… No, he is not my dad. In fact to further prove my point, my dad is dead!” *sounds honest to god cheerful as he says this* “So, believe me when I say Marvel is not my dad.” *hangs up* “Onto the next question!”

or

*ever since Black Adam found out Marvel was Billy, he’s been showing up at random points, disguised of course, and trying to convince Billy to give up being the champion and stuff. Basically trying to adopt him and such. Only, Billy doesn’t want to be adopted by the guy who kinda killed his dad. Currently, the two are walking down a busy sidewalk*

Black Adam: *talking Billy’s ear off about how he should give up being Marvel*

Billy “just trying to survive” Batson: *annoyed at Adam for doing this, stops walking and takes a deep breath so he can yell at the top of his lungs* “THIS MAN JUST TRIED TO TOUCH ME INAPPROPRIATELY! I’M CALLING CAPTAIN MARVEL ON YOU!” *Runs away to alleyway so he can transform*

Black Adam: *is gobsmacked*

Nearby People: *Judging him severely*

Marvel: *flies out of alley* “Stay there, Billy. I’ll handle this.” *Looks down at Black Adam* “Wooooooow, Teth. This is a whole new level of low, even for you. Touching kids? Seriously?”

*epic battle ensues*

*A day later, Billy has monitor duty with Green Arrow.*

GA: “Dude, it was awesome how you defended that little kid from that molester.” *looks away from monitors for a second to look at Marvel* “Hey, by the way, you guys looked a lot alike, is he you’re a kid?”

Marvel: “What? No? Just cause we look alike doesn’t mean he’s my kid.”

GA: “Well, I guess, but at the same time he was able to call you and you came in like less than a second.” *looks back to monitors* “Do you do that for all the kids who call you?”

*before Billy can think of an answer, the next pair lined up for monitor duty came to clock in. Before GA can even attempt to continue their conversation, he zips back to Fawcett as soon as he can*

or

*The Justice league are unable to contact Marvel for like a week. Naturally, they start to get concerned, so somehow they manage to magically transport themselves to the Rock of Eternity. There, they see Marvel nursing Billy back to health on the floor, near the rock. Billy got really sick after he got caught out in a bad storm* (In this AU, whenever Billy and Marvel go to the Rock of Eternity they get split into two)

Flash: “Marvel who’s that—”

Marvel: *whirls around to look at them* “SHHHHHH you’ll wake him!” *whisper yells as he puts a finger over his lips, doing the shh motion*

Superman: “Aww… He’s adorable!” *whispers as he flies over to look at Billy.* “He looks about Jon’s age. Cap, is he your kid?”

Marvel: “Uuuuuuuuuh yes…?” *doesn’t really know what to say and is going with whatever seems the least suspicious*

Flash: “Wait really?” *looks over to GL and leans over to whisper and in his ear* “Dude I think he’s shown more concern over that kid more than any of the other times I’ve seen him interact with the other two.” (Marvel is a bad “dad” might as well be connected to this one too)

GL: “Oh my god. You’re right.”

*around a day after this, Supes asked Marvel if Billy would like to meet other superheroes his age. Marvel told Supes he’d ask sometime later”

[yushi-ni]

ෆ YUSHI ෆ 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝖺𝖻𝖼

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ masterlist

summary; yushi nsfw alphabet

genre; suggestive

warnings; 18+!!!! mentions of; multiple sources of mature adult card games. smut content obviously, kinks

notes; hi babes, here’s the first part of my nsfw abc’s. i’m a little unsure what to think of this and i didn’t know how far and how uhhh detailed i wanted to get into it so i hope this will do for now, i tried hahahaha i hope you like it!!! lmk what you think and as always any form of interaction - feedback is appreciated!!!

──୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

A = aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

one thing about yushi is that he’s the most sweetest and loving person ever. trust he will coo you afterwards. he is shy in general so he might not be very talkative afterwards (depends on the day tbh) , since the moment itself is quite uhhh intimate (you’d say no?) but he’ll be so giggly and cute. will cuddle you and just stick to you. definitely helps you clean you up (in between giggles) and himself ofc

B = body part (his fav body part of himself and yours)

he likes your hands (not in a weird way) they’re just soft and small (compared to his) he’s always fidgeting with your hands - fingers. definitely holds your hands during the deed (in missionary) locking your fingers together, also loves the way your hands feel on him. in any way or touch hehe. on him, he’s pretty confident about his physique in general but i just know he’s proud of his upper body. not too packed but definitely lean and toned

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

not a big fan of a messy party. will probably stick to condoms or cums in your mouth (when receiving) just doesn’t want to clean too much afterwards. rather lays down than having to change the sheets (valid tho)

D = dirty secret (yes.)

this man is on all fours when it comes to dirty talk. (i said what i said) definitely a sub and secretly (not so secretly) LOVES when you take control. yes he sure as hell has his moments too but as soon as he notices that you’re going for the remote control he’s all yours. this + your bold words???? he’s cumming in his pants. (excuse my language)

E = experience (how experienced is he?)

definitely has some experience but he’s not on top of the rankings yk? he’s not a casual player and it also requires some trust and respect from both teams for him to dive in the sheets. he knows what he’s doing but also doesn’t mind a more experienced gf who can lead and show him the ins and outs a little more

F = fav position (self explanatory hihi)

missionary for sure. for multiple reasons; the intimacy is so important and good for him, he can look you in the eyes (HUGE on eye contact) he can hold your hand, which adds to a somewhat emotional connection too and he just loves seeing your facial expressions. so he’s definitely a fan of missionary or some variation; throw your legs up girl. he loooooves it all.

G = goofy and giggles (is he serious or goofy)

mmh i don’t think he’s goofy as in full on laughter being shared. definitely giggles whenever you try something new and he’s a little unsure or just overwhelmed by a new rush of feelings - emotions but that’s it. he’s more of a serious; eye contact, sweet and loving guy.

H = hair (how does it look downstairs?)

keeps it nice and clean. nothing much to say, he just prefers it that way himself

I = intimacy (how intimate is he during the game)

in a long-term relationship he’ll definitely become more and more serious and romantic. he views sex as something special between the two of you so he’s really into the whole connected and closeness of the act. like i said; lots of eye contact, sweet words etc etc. also has his less ‘romantic’ moments ofc where he just needs you, without the whole shakespear quotes and bullshit. overall his intimacy levels are off the charts.

J = jack off (his 1-1 playtime with his lil friend)

mwehh not necessarily a big fan of having to do his own self care. definitely prefers your hands over his. but sometimes gravity calls when you’re not around so if he’s really in need of a good scratch he’ll take amends with his own hands.

K = kink (no need for further explanation)

choking 1000%. on you, on him, whatever! also goes wild whenever you pull his hair.

L = location (his fav places to play card games)

at home. simple and easy. more than anything it’s the most comfortable place but also it doesn’t limit his actions and needs. definitely prefers an empty home without any witnesses but as long as there’s a door that can be locked, he’s in and ready to go.

M = motivation (what turns him on?)

nothing specific tbh. you, simply you being you turns him on. doesn’t need a lot of convincing to get him going, the thought of your pleasure, and his own ofc, are enough. but for some reason, he’s not one to shy away from a little public - sneaky teasing. not publicly as in; right in the middle of burger king but in a setting with others around like your friends etc. not being able to immediately get down to business turns him on for sure

N = no no no (something he wouldn’t do - turn offs)

absolutely not into pain and other things that might come off the wrong way in some settings. will try any type of twister position you want, for all he cares will even wear bunny ears if that’s a new thing you want to try out but never in a million years will he ever slap or spank or do anything that could actually hurt you

O = oral (is he a receiver or giver)

not necessarily unskilled nor unwilling (hehe) might need a little help with giving head the first few times, not because he’s unsure what to do but because he wants to know what you like. very quick learner tho!!!! your reactions and sounds are his biggest motivation. rather slow and sensual than a messy eater. receiving on the other hand? yes. when? yes. how? yes. now? double yes. definitely vocal when you’re getting down to business. head thrown back, hand in your hair, your name leaving his lips in soft moans?? yup yup yup

P = pace (fast? - slow? - rough?)

mmmh depends on the day. not necessarily into rough play but also not one to rule out a little ‘challenge’. likes to take it slow and more vanilla whenever you have the whole night to enjoy each other, but also doesn’t mind a more fast and easy face off whenever you have places to be

Q = quickie (his view on quickies)

not the biggest fan, but every now and then he’ll take what he can get. quick fix’s are usually a morning thing. besides that he has enough self control to keep it in his pants until he can actually get you down town later that day

R = risk (does he take risks??)

not a huge risk taker, buttttt there’s a little voice in his head telling him otherwise. won’t necessarily take it upon himself to experiment wild things since he’s more of a follower of yours, if you get what i mean. honestly down to try anything at any time as long as you’re comfortable with it. whatever works for you as long as it’s you either under or on top of him (hehe)

S = stamina (how many rounds etc how long)

no lack of stamina (cmon he’s a dancer) but not necessarily one to go on for hours and hours and round after round. but your pleasure = his pleasure so even though he’s tapped out, let the guy breathe for a bit and he might still be down for another one. but usually one or two rounds is ok for him

T = toys (is he team yes or no)

doesn’t have a collection in his bedroom or whatever but he’s down to try them. more likely to enjoy toys on you rather than male receiving ones. if you’re into toys and want to try something, lead the way and the man follows like a puppy

U = unfair (is he into teasing?)

ok hear me out. he’s a tease (cmon he’s always onto whatever mischievous thing he’s doing when it comes to playing with his members) so i can definitely see him testing the waters BEFORE the actual act. so like, teasing you with lingering touches, wandering hands etc etc to get you in the mood too. especially whenever you’re accompanied by sion - riku or some of your friends. such a sweet little guy but he knows what he’s doing, will keep a straight face and smile to the others tho while getting you worked up, sneakily (or maybe not that sneaky and unnoticed sometimes uhhh)

V = volume (is he vocal or quiet)

not loud loud but definitely vocal tho. whimpers??? yes, he can’t even control it. won’t be screaming your name but you’ll definitely hear him. he’s a soft moaner for sure. for you tho, he loves hearing you. in all possible ways, let him know how good he makes you feel. it drives him crazy fr

W = wild card (random thought)

he can get jealous. and jealousy might cause a little bit of a stir in his usual manner (not that you mind, not at all) he’s not a rough player but if he’s feeling a little green with envy you’ll definitely be able to tell. won’t hurt you but also doesn’t really care for whatever you have to say in the moment. lowkey wants to prove his point and then he’s ok again

X = x-ray (what does his lil friend look like?)

knows how to use what he’s got (on you) but not packed up with a whole trunk. not an intimidating sight but honestly a perfect fit. nothing to complain about, he’s good sized

Y = yearning (how high is his sex drive)

might limit himself (and you) to places where he wants to play twister but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it all the time. he has really strong self control so he might not initiate it as much as you, he wants to but he can definitely keep it on the low if he feels like it’s not the right time but let him know you’re in race mode and he’s ready to go too. trust

Z = zzz (does he fall asleep afterwards)

doesn’t log out immediately, loves the intimacy during the after scene too. won’t go on a full rant and conversation about big world events but definitely loves some pillow talk. he’s a cuddly guy so wants to keep and feel you close as long as possible. always down for a shower afterwards, ok i lied maybe not always since he’s too tired out but if you really want to he will join ofc. big spoon - small spoon. you call it, he’s happy and content as long as he’s with you

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 3)

summary: you continue to spend more time with hugh, realizing just how different your lives are and while it scares you, hugh does a great job at reassuring you. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), angst - mentions of a past toxic relationship (gaslighting) reader thinks too much and has insecurities, suggestive smut (brief oral - f receiving), no use of y/n. word count: 3.9k a/n: ok, so this relationship is moving fast but let's be honest, i feel like hugh would definitely know a good thing when he sees it lol. this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman (it's the only way i can live out my fantasies of this man lol). prev part. - next part.

You wake up the sounds of Hugh’s quiet snores. You still can’t believe you spent the night. One of his arms is draped over your waist and you’re very aware of the lack of clothing between the both of you. True to his word, Hugh devoured you last night. His tongue, his lips, his fingers– the man knew exactly what he was doing. You were hesitant at first, seeing him between your legs, mouth inches away from where you needed him the most. He could sense your nervousness and had gently placed a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

It was such a simple act, but it provided all the reassurance you needed. Hugh was the first ever person to go down on you and you fear that he’s ruined it for you. If this didn’t work out, you’re sure that there won’t ever be another man to do it like him.

You’re lying on your back, arm resting over his. He looks so peaceful, so unbothered by the responsibilities and realities of the world. His snores even provide a level of comfort that you know can lull you back to sleep. It had only been a week since meeting him and while you certainly didn’t plan for any of this to happen, you can’t imagine it being any different. 

You liked Hugh. A lot, and it scared you. Not because you didn’t think you weren’t ready to get into another relationship, but because your worlds were just vastly different. 

But you remember what he said yesterday and it brings a smile to your lips.

“I don’t want this to be casual.”

You turn slightly to face him, watching as he moves with you, lying on his back instead as his arm drops from your waist. You lie on your side, bringing your fingertips to gently run across his chest. He’s still snoring, but you can’t help but notice the marks you left on his body. The scratch marks on his arms and you’re sure there are more on his back. 

This doesn’t feel real. It’s like you’re in some kind of dream and you’re afraid to wake up, not wanting this to end. Yesterday had been one of the best days you’ve had in a very long time and you had Hugh to thank. Not only was the sex amazing, but the conversations and laughter you both shared was just as great. 

You know you shouldn’t be comparing Hugh to your ex-boyfriend, but you can’t help but reflect on just how different they both were. Whenever you were talking, Hugh always made sure to keep his attention fully on you, eyes staring into yours, hand holding yours or resting on your back. With Hugh, you felt seen. You felt heard. You felt like your voice mattered. 

With your ex-boyfriend, you always felt like you were bothersome. He had always been very short with you, always on his phone, and very disinterested in what you had to say. Towards the end of your relationship with him, you had learned to keep quiet, learned to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself. It wasn’t until the relationship ended that you realized just how much your ex-boyfriend gaslit you and your emotions. 

But with Hugh… You felt validated. You had to wonder if it had to do with the age difference. Your ex-boyfriend was just a year older than you; with Hugh being much older, you couldn’t help but think about all of the life experiences he must have gone through to get to where he is now. 

With Hugh, you feel so much more grounded. 

Wanting to surprise him with breakfast, you slowly climb out of bed and pull on your panties. You carefully tiptoe into his closet, making sure not to make too much noise. You pull on one of Hugh’s white button down shirts and slip it on, buttoning just a few buttons to at least cover yourself up. 

Then, you leave his bedroom and make your way to his kitchen. You don’t know if this is overstepping any boundaries, but you wanted to do something nice for him, especially after yesterday. 

You’re taken aback by the view of the city again. Hugh was right, watching the sunset last night was worth staying. His kitchen is so much larger than yours and you’re not sure where he keeps his pots and pans, so you open the cupboards to try and find them. When you do, you grab one large pan and place it on top of his stove and then open his fridge. You see a carton of eggs and a bag of spinach that you take and place on the counter. You remember that Hugh’s on a strict diet, so what’s healthier than an egg and spinach omelet? 

You also see his coffee machine in the corner and your eyes light up in excitement. Having been a barista all throughout your college years, you knew your way around a good coffee machine. 

It takes you about twenty minutes to finish cooking and making coffee. You’re about to set the table when you hear footsteps round the corner. You look up at him to see that he’s completely shirtless, but that he has put on a pair of sweatpants that hangs low at his hips. His hair is slightly disheveled and he’s yawning, but when his eyes meet yours, there’s a large grin that forms on his lips.

“Did you make me breakfast?” he calls out, walking over to you. 

“And coffee,” you point out. “I hope you don’t mind,” you say nervously. “I wanted to do something for you since yesterday was just such an amazing day and–”

Hugh interrupts you and cups your cheeks in his large hands, bending down to press his lips against yours softly. “I don’t mind at all, love.” Then, he pulls back enough to look down at what you’re wearing and he bites his lower lip. “And I certainly don’t mind this at all.” 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you move to rest your hands on his broad chest. “I couldn’t find my shirt, so…”

“You could’ve also just walked around naked,” Hugh winks. “That would have been just as an amazing sight as this.”

You roll your eyes playfully and pull away from him, but he takes your wrist and pulls you back into his arms. 

“Wait,” he says quietly. 

“Hm?” 

“Good morning,” Hugh smiles, kissing your forehead. “Yesterday and last night was… It was wonderful.” 

“It was the best day,” you say softly, leaning into him. “One of the best I’ve had in a while.” 

“I can get used to having you here,” Hugh admits. “Is that– Am I moving too fast here?” 

You shake your head and run your hands to his chest and arms, gently squeezing his biceps as you bite your lower lip. “No, I just–” you sigh. “What if you get tired of me?” 

“I won’t,” Hugh reassures you. 

“But what if–” you shake your head, trying to force the negative thoughts out. You realize it’s lingering in the back of your mind. “You’re you and I’m me.” 

Hugh’s hands move to your hips, gently squeezing them. “He really hurt you, didn’t he?” Hugh asks quietly. 

“Hugh…” 

“I’m not him, baby.” 

“I know you aren’t.”

“Good because I know a good thing when I see it,” Hugh affirms. 

You bite your lower lip and look deeply into his eyes, feeling your heart swell at his words and at the sight of him. You can tell how serious he is, how his gaze doesn’t falter. “I like being here. With you,” you admit. “And I’m not just saying that because the sex is amazing.”

“But that’s one of the reasons, isn’t it?” Hugh winks, letting out a quiet chuckle. “You know, I haven’t slept that good in a very long time. Something about having you next to me brought me a lot of comfort.”

“You have a way of words, don’t you?” You smile, leaning up to gently peck his lips. 

Hugh laughs quietly and pulls away from you to walk over to the plate of food. “I just tell the truth, baby.” 

You roll your eyes and sit on the stool, looking up at him as he takes a bite of the egg and spinach omelet you created for him. He lets out a quiet groan of approval and looks in your direction, grinning. 

“So, you can cook too?” 

“And make coffee,” you wink. 

Hugh arches a brow and takes a sip of his americano, brows raising upwards. “Wow. Yeah, I need you around here like… All the time. Can we arrange that, you think?” 

“Hmm,” you look up in thought, resting an elbow on the island. “I will need some closet space, a corner on your bathroom counter–”

Hugh lets out a laugh and sets his fork down to walk towards you, turning your body on the stool until your back is resting against the counter and his hands rest at either side of you, caging you in. He bends down so that you’re at eye level with him, a smirk lining his lips. 

“Whatever you want, baby, you’re gonna get.” He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. 

You move to wrap around arms lazily around his shoulders and stare into his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. “You should finish your breakfast. You’re bulking up for Wolverine, so you need your calories.” 

“I also need some cardio too,” Hugh grins. “Wanna join in on the session?” 

You bite your lower lip in anticipation and nod slowly. “Meet you upstairs?” 

Hugh shakes his head and moves his hand to your hips, lifting you off the stool with ease and placing you on the edge of the counter. “No, baby, gonna need you to wait right here for me.” 

“Like a good girl?” you ask, bringing your hands to play with the buttons 

Hugh grins and nods, continuing to eat as he stares at you,eyes dropping to see your legs cross over one another. Then, he reaches out and taps your knee. “Leave ‘em open for me.” 

You nod and then spread your legs for him, looking up at him in excitement.

Hugh’s eyes narrow and he takes the last bite of his omelet. He sets the plate in the sink and then walks to stand between your legs, reaching up to undo the button on the shirt you’re wearing. Once it opens, he clears his throat and moves his hands to push the shirt off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. 

“Gonna have an early morning dessert, if ya don’t mind, baby.” Hugh smirks, hooking his fingers into your panties and sliding it down your legs. “Been thinking about this since last night. Tastes so good,” he growls. 

Then, Hugh dips down between your legs and you feel eyes roll in the back of your head once his tongue darts out to taste you. 

—

It’s been a full week since you spent the night and Hugh craves more and more of having you in his home with him. It’s been a very long time since he’s felt like this and he’s known to fall hard and fall fast, but he’s being careful this time around. He doesn’t want to push you if you aren’t ready, but he can’t help the way you make him laugh and smile, how he feels more at calm with you by his side, and how excited he gets whenever he falls asleep with you in his arms because he knows he’ll wake up with you by his side. 

Hugh knows that he’s going to get busier as the months pass, knowing that for the next year, he’s going to be focused on preparing to come back as Logan. While it should deter him from continuing to see you and committing himself to a relationship, it surprises him that it doesn’t. He isn’t the type of person to take things for granted and he always went after what he wanted, and you– Well, you have been such a nice surprise and he can’t even think about the possibility of letting you go. 

He thinks back to the last time you were here, teasing him about how you would need closet space and an area in his bathroom for your things. You might have been joking, but Hugh takes it seriously. He’s already given you more than enough space in his closet, walking inside to see the vacant space along the wall. He stands there, arms crossed over his chest, as he imagines your things here with his. 

Hugh’s mind drifts when he hears his phone ring. He looks down at it and sees your contact name; he always smiles at it: Swole-mate 💪

“Hi, baby,” Hugh answers immediately. He can’t ignore the way his heart rate speeds up, his stomach doing flips in excitement just to get a chance to hear your voice. “You almost here?” 

“Yeah, just a few minutes out,” he hears you say. “Are you sure spending the weekend is okay?” 

Hugh leaves his closet and begins descending the stairs to greet you. “If I had it my way, you’d be here for more than just the weekend.”

With the silence that comes from you, Hugh just knows that your mind has drifted and so when you pull into his driveway, he hangs up the phone and waits until you park to approach you. Once you climb out of your car, your eyes meet his and Hugh smiles, walking towards you. 

“Your mind just doesn’t shut off, does it?” Hugh says, taking your hand and gently pulling you to him. “What’s goin’ on in that beautiful head of yours, baby?” 

“Nothing,” you sigh, resting your cheek against his chest as your arms come up to wrap around him. You feel safe with him, but you know that you both need to have a serious conversation about where this will go. He had mentioned to you that his schedule was going to get busier and you wanted to know where you fit in with all of that before you allow yourself to fall in deeper. 

Hugh brings a hand to rub your back, placing a gentle kiss at the crown of your head. “I don’t believe ya,” he says. “Let me grab your things and we can head inside and talk?” 

You nod and release your hold on him, watching him walk towards your trunk to grab your duffle bag filled with clothes and toiletries to last for the rest of the weekend. Once he shuts your trunk, Hugh reaches out and takes your hand in his, leading you inside his home and up the stairs to his bedroom. 

You’ve been thinking so much since the last time you were here, trying your best to stay in the moment and not expect too much, but when Hugh mentioned his schedule for the next few months, you started to pull away. You didn’t want to put your all into this if it wasn’t going to go anywhere. Hugh sits at the edge of his bed and looks up at you, head tilting to the side. 

You’re pacing back and forth in front of him and he reaches out for your hand to pull you to stand between his legs. 

“Hey,” he says softly. 

You don’t look at him, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Baby,” Hugh says again. “Look at me.”

You clear your throat and turn your attention to him. There are tears stinging your eyes and you aren’t even sure why you’re getting so emotional, but there is a bit of fear knowing that this may be the last weekend you would spend with him. 

“Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s goin’ on in your mind.” 

“You’re going to be busier,” you point out, biting the inside of your cheek. “And I don’t want to hold you back. I know we literally just met two weeks ago, but I’m okay with ending things the way they are now. It’s been more than amazing to spend all this time with you and–”

“Ending this?” Hugh interrupts, confusion written all over his face as his brows furrow together. “Do you not want this?” 

“No, I do!” you sigh, looking down at your hands that are currently holding onto his. “I just– I don’t want you to have to worry about me while you’re away shooting and you’re going to just be so busy. I know what you do for a living and it’s to be expected, but I just feel like you’d worry while you’re away and I don’t–” you let out a shaky breath and shake your head. “Am I even making sense?” 

Hugh sighs. “You are making sense,” he reassures, bringing your hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. “But I guess I just don’t understand. You won’t be holding me back.”

“Hugh,” you close your eyes for a moment and release his hands to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I like you a lot and it scares me,” you admit. “It scares me because I don’t know how I fit into all of this. Into your life.”

“Really?” Hugh asks. “Because I can see it so clearly.” 

“What?”

“I can see how you fit into my life so clearly,” Hugh repeats. “And you’re not tied to a job here. You travel for work too and I may or may have not talked about you to Ryan and Shawn…” he admits quietly. “Anyway, I know it’s scary because this scares me too, but I can’t…” he shakes his head, looking up at you as his hands move to rest on your hips. “I can’t even fathom letting you go and I don’t want to either.”

“I’ve given my all before in a relationship and in the end, it only hurt me…” you reply with a shaky voice. 

“I know,” he sighs, eyes softening as he slowly stands up. Your hands drop from his shoulders to his waist as Hugh’s hands cup the base of your neck, keeping his eyes solely focused on yours. “And I can’t promise that everything will always be okay, but I can promise you that I’d always put you first. No matter what. Whatever this is between us,” Hugh continues, his thumbs brushing against the corners of your eyes as he feels a couple of tears trickle. “I want to believe that it’ll work out.” 

“We’ve only known each other for two weeks,” you whisper. “I’m way in over my head. You must think I’m crazy.” 

“Like I said… You have a lot of love to give,” Hugh whispers, gently pecking your lips. “And I’d be a lucky man to be on the receiving end of your love one day.” 

You bite your lower lip and wrap your arms around him tighter, moving to rest your forehead against the crook of his neck as his hands drop from the base of your neck to rest on your lower back. Hugh can feel the weight lift itself off your shoulders as you relax into him. He peppers kisses along your cheek and tightens his hold on you. 

“Feeling better?” Hugh whispers into your ear.

You nod against him. “Yeah, thank you, Hugh.”

“All I ask is that you talk to me, baby, okay?” He asks, pulling back to look down at you. “Whatever is bothering you, I don’t want you to hold it in. I’m here to listen.” 

“God, you really are perfect, aren’t you?” you laugh quietly, pecking his lips. 

Hugh smiles to himself. He realizes that he hates seeing you upset and when he hears your laugh and sees the smile on your face, he feels proud, accomplished. “I’m not perfect.” 

“I’d say otherwise,” you smile, looking deeply into his eyes. “I’m not used to talking about what’s bothering me or my feelings, but I’m learning.”

“This will always be a safe space, okay?” Hugh tells you. “You’re safe with me.”

You hug him tightly, burying your face into him as you let out a sigh of relief. You feel his arms tighten around you and it brings you so much comfort. Being here with him, in his arms, brings you comfort. You feel him fall back onto his mattress, taking you with him as you curl against his side, arm draped over his abdomen as his arm hooks around your shoulders. 

“So, you told Ryan and Shawn about me?” you ask, looking up at him. “As in the Ryan Reynolds and the Shawn Levy?” 

Hugh laughs. “Do you describe all people like that?”

“Only celebrities,” you correct. 

Hugh looks down at you and shakes his head, a smile lining his lips. “I did, is that okay? I know we never talked about who can know and who can’t…”

“It’s okay, Hugh,” you reassure him, kissing his chest. 

“I’d tell the whole world, if I could,” he says honestly. “But whenever you’re ready, baby.” 

You nod, shutting your eyes as you rest against him. “Thank you,” you whisper. “For not pressuring me. For going at my pace. I know it must not be easy, but you have no idea how much it means to me.” 

Hugh hooks a finger under your chin, eyes scanning your features as he bites his lower lip. Your eyes remain closed as he brushes his thumb lightly along your jawline. “I’d wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Yeah,” you smile, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb. “You’re perfect.”

Hugh laughs to himself and then holds you tighter into his side. “So, I also told Ryan and Shawn you were a photographer and they may want to meet you to discuss a few things.”

“About my work or about us?” you open your eyes at that, looking up at him.

“About your work.”

“But I’m an engagement photographer, and last I checked, they’re both already married.” 

Hugh smiles. “Well, I also showed them your other work…”

“Oh, but those weren’t really serious… They were just for fun. Landscapes, street photography.” 

“They were just as good, baby.” He tells you. “And it’s possible,” he grins. “Or rather, they will be asking if you’d be interested in being our on-set photographer, taking pictures behind the scenes.”

Your eyes widen slightly, looking into his eyes. “That would mean I’d be there with you.”

Hugh nods slowly, the grin remaining on his lips. “Exactly, you’d be there with me on set of Deadpool & Wolverine. You sure you won’t get tired of me?” Hugh asks.

You shake your head and move to straddle his waist, resting your forearms down on either side of his head on the bed as you feel his hands move to your hips. 

“Isn’t that a question that I ask?” you tease, nose brushing against his. 

“It’s a valid question.” 

“No, I won’t get tired of you, Hugh. How can I?” you whisper, brushing your lips across his own lightly. “I mean, I think you’ve ruined other men for me.” 

Hugh growls and wraps an arm around your waist, rolling you over onto your back as he settles himself between your legs. “Good,” he says huskily, rolling his hips against yours. “Because you’re mine now.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1 - @wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf - @needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

[c0ffinshit]

Reach Down (Simon [John Q.] x Reader) SMUT

a/n: hey guys, sorry this project is so rushed. i wanted to get something out since i haven't written anything in a hot minute. so i still hope you like it either way.

word count: 1,391

credit for the idea: @digitalpup444

warning: some poor grammer and spelling, porn with little plot, choking, priase/slight degradation kink, fingering with cunnilingus, dialogue heavy

You were never a huge music fan, and never considered yourself a fan of any given band. Because of this, you never got the hype of band worship, the idea of taking an average person and putting them on the highest level to the point where if they ruin that even slightly their career is over for good. 

That is until you got into the punk band PSYOPS. When the obsession hit, it hit like a bus. Suddenly, you were going to underground shows in gross basements and old warehouses. You were taking old shirts and cutting them up to put custom patches on them. You closely followed the band’s forums, trying to figure out their next show. Of course, the band knew of your existence.  It didn’t take long for you to end up in his truck, talking about what it was like being in a band. As you two talked, you felt a strong pull towards him. He liked making punk music and taking down the big man with lyrics. Toward the end of the car ride, he lit his second cigarette of the night and took off the mask as he pulled up to a house.

You always preferred John Q whenever talking about favorite band members. Something about never seeing his face drew you in him. What did he look like under that ski mask? Who was John Q? But when you finally saw his face covered in sweat from the show a shrug ran through you.

"What?" He asks, opening the driver side’s door to the truck, and shutting it with a thud.

You snap out of your daze for a minute, enough time to open your door and then shut it. "Nothing, don’t worry about it."

He glares at you, flicking his cigarette and pressing it under his boot. "Alright." 

He opens the house’s main door and leads you to his room, which looks like it hasn’t been cleaned. John flops onto his bed and groans loudly. You look around his room, slowly inching into his room. 

He notes this and sits up, watching you stare around his room. "Are you going to sit down? You look tired as fuck."

Your eyes flicker back to him. His boots are placed firmly on the ground and his forearms are just above his knees. It’s oddly sexy how he sits. Then again, he was handsome in general. 

"No, "You finally reply. "I’m fine, I promise."

John tilts his head back, smirking, and stands in your way. "You sure? You look…" His eyes look you up and down. "Tense."

You shake your head. "No, I’m fine. I’m just a big fan of your work and I don’t want to mess anything up-"

"Fuck off. You’re not ruining anything. You’re fine." He steps closer. "I mean that. You’re fine."

He eyes you up again, watching your hands hold each other. Your face slowly rushes with blood as he talks. Most critics would say that he speaks because he likes the sound of his voice, but honestly, it didn’t matter to you; you could listen to him talk for hours about whatever he wanted.

"Are you hitting on me?" You said, taking your hands apart. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

"Do you blame me? I’ve been hitting on you the whole night. " His face comes closer and you place your hands on his shoulders.

"Well, are you going to do something about it?"

"Do you want me to?" He asks, moving one of his hands to hold my chin.

A quick nod of your head and he pulls you in for a kiss. At first, his mouth tastes like licking an ashtray, but as his tongue snakes into your mouth, a faint of cheap beer covers your tongue. Your hands shake as they move up to hold his face. His other hand moves down to your ass, pushing you into his hips. His erection pressed against his thigh as you softly moaned into his mouth. John pulls away for a second, his lips covered in your saliva.

"Take off your shirt." He rushes out as he takes off his jacket.

Once you saw his shirt on the floor, you could feel yourself getting more excited.

You giggle and sloppily take off your shirt. His smirk returns to his face as he looks at your breasts.

"Such a good girl and such a cute bra. May I?" His hand ghosts over your bare skin, running his fingers along the lines of your body.

"Please," You whisper and his hands rush to squeeze at them.

His hands felt rough against your skin. You let parts of your body shine in the lamp near his bed. John’s tan but pale skin was dull and flat, yet was striking against your skin. You let out a small moan as his hands moved lower down your body.

"Take off those pants and get on the bed." He commands in a breathy yet dominant tone.

Your hands push the button and pull at the zipper of your jeans, revealing the cutest pair of the panties you own. Embarrassment sets into your face as you rush onto the bed. John smiles as his eyes look into yours.

"Fuck, you are so cute. For such a good girl, I didn’t think you’d be this much of a needy whore."

You giggle again at the compliment but stop as he slowly crawls onto the bed and in between your legs.

His eyes are dark as he kisses down your left thigh; every kiss is a small noise. "You doing alright?" He places his hand on your body. 

A low groan of approval leaves your mouth. He smirks a little as his hand continues to roam and his mouth continues to move downwards. "Good." 

He would’ve never figured you would be so sensitive. You lean forward and kiss his head, causing him to look up. He finally looks at you again, his first glance in a while. His hair was slowly starting to stick to his forehead. John has one of those stares that makes you shiver and squirm in your seat with pleasure. His face comes down to your throbbing heat, a small patch of slick waiting for him.

"Exicited were we?" He said with a small chuckle, kissing it right on the patch.

It was things like that that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers hook around the lining of your panties, slowly pulling them down. This was the most vulnerable you had been in a while.

"Before we start, can you do something for me, baby?"

A quick nods and he continues, his tone more hushed. "Call me Simon."

Before you can even process his request, Simon groans as his tongue snakes up your clit. At first, Lorne went slow, teasingly licking at your clit. But soon enough, Simon’s fingers were slowly entering your vagina. You looked down at his dark eyes, his tongue flicking at your clit; the lamp reflecting in his eyes. 

Going deeper into your pussy, goosebumps crawled up your skin. Your back arched. Suddenly, he stopped. His mouth pops from your vulva. You try to grab at his greasy brown hair, but end up pushing his head back down to your cunt. He started slowly; his tongue felt so good around your clit with every gentle, rough lick, and suck; you could feel myself growing weaker. He was licking and sucking, and the pit in your stomach grew tighter each second. He smelled of cheap beer, cigarettes, and old sweat. With each curl and press of his fingers in your pussy, your stomach swelled in pleasure. He looked up at me and his eyes looked as if he was smiling, which made you melt. You push your vulva more in his mouth and he lets out a low growl, making the pleasure more intense. 

Soon enough, your hot cum was dripping from his mouth and down his chin. When he finally poked his head back up, his smile was a sight for sore eyes.

"God, I’m surprised you were that quiet, still, such a good girl for me. So proud of you."

"It’s not about the sounds." You reply. "But it's about body language. At this moment, you have no idea how good I feel right."

[love-toxin]

@ eric draven, hes goth and metal And he kills people AND hes a feminist. literally the whole package what else could u want <33

UNNNNNGHHH AND HE'S GOT THE BIG WET PUPPY EYES GRRRAAAAAAAAHHHH

like.....like......imagine after the events of the crow Eric doesn't go back to purgatory or pass through to the afterlife, but rather finds himself staying in the land of the living for some unknown reason. he's got his revenge, he's avenged his beloved Shelley, but what now? what's his purpose?

but the crow won't speak to him any words of either comfort or doom, so he just wanders. wanders away from his city and home until he stops somewhere on the opposite side. spends time thinking and planning and thinking until he drives himself nearly mad and falls asleep. he can't do much else, or at least thinks he can't. when he's found no better place to roam he returns home, but when he steps up the curb to his apartment, he sees lights on upstairs. something dark stirs in him--protectiveness, maybe, he's sensitive to his home being invaded for obvious reasons--but when he leaps up and perches on the ledge of the shattered window he sees somebody he's never met before.

you're just standing in his apartment, sweeping up shards of broken glass like you own the place. humming to yourself. he remembers, briefly, what it was like when there was music in his home. but it used to be Shelley's laughter, and now there's a soft-eyed stranger singing a quiet tune in the lamplight, and he feels the same as he did back then. he sticks to the shadows because he doesn't know what to expect, but you just step lightly around the pile and sweep the glass shards into your dustpan. there's a little electric lantern keeping the place aglow and a few small bags of meager luggage huddled at the front door.

it occurs to him that you might be the new resident as he coldly watches you from a distance. it's obvious that the apartment would be repurposed at some point after his death, but how do you feel knowing that you're taking over the home of a dead man? that you'll lay your head in the same place where a couple were brutally and viciously murdered? where Shelley, his Shelley, was-

you tilt your head. your ears perked at the imperceptible sound and you nearly caught him staring, but he's a lot faster to hide than you are to see.

he leaves soon after that, but he finds himself returning every night. he learns things about you. you're industrious, for one--you work on the apartment whenever you're not working your job, both of which are tough, and you sleep on a hard mattress on the floor. you spend such a long time cleaning but when you find little things left behind of his or Shelley's, you don't throw them out. maybe you feel bad for them. maybe you know exactly what happened, and you don't want to disrespect their memory.

maybe you're a really, really good person that lives for a better world. Eric can't help but think that when he watches you tirelessly slave over renovating his apartment--he can't ever quite see it as something not of his own--taking down what was broken and making it into something beautiful again. he doesn't know you that well, he only hears your voice when you're talking on the phone or singing in the shower, but he grows to like you. you're gentle. you smile at little things and you laugh as sweetly as you cry. even when you feel frustrated or betrayed, when you get violent and punch something out of anger, you just feel it in such a raw way that it entrances him. you're complex. you're gorgeous. you're someone he could very easily fall in love with, but you don't deserve to feel his hurt in the way that he does. you can't shoulder his burdens with him when they're just too great for a mortal life.

so he resorts to watching you and feeling badly about it. he's kind of stalking you at this level, but he goes nowhere beyond following you to work and back and occasionally glancing through your window to make sure you're okay. one time he caught you freshly out of the shower with your towel nowhere in sight--you were out of clean ones and had to go digging--and he felt so bad about it he couldn't be around your place for weeks. but you deserve protection and all the love in the world, and if he can't give you one he can at least give you the other. at this point he would never forgive himself, he would probably burn down the whole city if what happened to him and Shelley happened to you. he would truly lose his mind.

it's only when you catch him that he has to stop and think on what he's doing, because there's no way he can explain himself properly--perching atop the roof of your apartment with the crow grooming its feathers at his side. when you stumble across him he wasn't even paying attention, just keeping an ear out for any screams or cries for help, but you mesmerize him because you're just so....so...

"are you....cold?"

kind. you're so warm he couldn't think of shivering in your presence. from that day on you're aware of his presence but you don't mind it. you welcome it. you don't know who he really is and you probably wouldn't believe him if he told you, but you welcome him in and that's fine because he really, truly is in love with you now. he has to be. because there's no way that his silent heart would start beating again for any other reason, even if it's just a trick of the mind and it's not really true. you touch his hands and feel cold skin and he's definitely still not alive, but he doesn't feel quite as dead as he was, and every day he spends growing closer and closer to you he feels death growing into a curse over a promise. maybe he doesn't really want to go back to sleep after all...not if the world has people like you, and not if a person like you could start feeling something for a restless, morbid soul like him.

[strawberryfanaticccc]

baby cousin - c. sturniolo

🫧 chris sturniolo x fem!reader

🫧 where you bring chris along with you to a family party and your little baby cousin absolutely steals all his attention.

🫧 fluff.

🫧 1.4k words.

🫧 hi lovelies!! thank you so much for wanting to read! uh this idea just popped into my head when i seen this picture of chris, i was like, “i got the perfect thing to write based on this” i think i was also heavily inspired by the fact that my baby cousins baptism was coming up so i was gonna be seeing my little cousins! anyway, enjoy bc i loved writing this! much love to you all!! <3 oh also, apologies if ur ovulating or have baby fever 😣 masterlist

Your five year old cousin, Lila, had to be the most bubbly and extroverted of all your cousins. She would chat to anyone willing to listen. Most of all, she’d been attached to you since you could remember, turning herself into your little shadow. She mimics your mannerisms and what you say. And whenever you’re anywhere with her there as well, you have to be so careful with moving about because she’ll be stuck to you like velcro.

So it was normal that as soon as you set foot into your aunt’s backyard and the little girl spotted you, her features lit up and she made a mad dash for you; her small body colliding with yours.

You let out a breath at the collision, a smile overtaking your face afterwards. “Hey Li,” you say, crouching down to her level.

“Hi, Y/N!” She shouts out brightly.

You laugh softly. “Heard you started kindergarten. How’s that been for you, bug? Make any new friends?” You ask, brushing back a piece of stray hair from her face.

She nods her head enthusiastically. “Yes! His name is Austin and we push each other on the swings and play legos together!”

“That’s great! Hey, I have someone I want you to meet,” you say, standing back to your height.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you say, grabbing her small hand and leading her to where your mother is standing talking to your uncle; Chris standing next to her.

“His name is Chris and he’s my boyfriend.”

Lila stops you before you reach them by tugging at your shirt.

You look down at her. “Do you think he’ll wanna be my friend?”

“Oh for sure. I think you two will get along real well in fact.”

“Okay! Then let’s go meet my new friend Chris!”

You let out another soft laugh as you both finally reach your mother and Chris. Your mother spotting you both and letting out a gasp.

“Oh well if it isn’t my favorite five year old!” She says, reaching down and tugging Lila into a big hug. “How’s school going for you so far, darling?”

“Great! Made new friends! Bout to make a new one now!” Lila lets out from her place in your mothers arms, squirming just a little bit.

“Oh, yes,” your mother lets out a chuckle. “Go on and meet Christopher now, darling.” Your mother lets go of the girl with a pat on her head before wandering off to talk to another family member.

Almost immediately Lila looks at the man now standing next to you. A bright grin taking over her face, making her cheeks squish and her eyes squint.

“Hello! I’m Lila, and I would like to be your friend! Would you like to be my friend?” The little girl asks with a little hand outstretched towards Chris.

His bigger one engulfs hers as he returns her greeting. “I would love to be your friend, Lila.”

Lila lets go of Chris’ hand and claps her hands together with a squeal of delight.

“That’s great! Do y’wanna go play in my sandbox with me? We can make sandcastles!”

“I would love to!” Chris says brightly.

And as soon as the words left his mouth, he was being dragged away by Lila and towards her sandbox.

“So, I heard that you’re in school now. Do you like it?” Chris asks, as he plops down onto the grass next to the sandbox.

“Oh I love it!” Lila replies, picking up two pink shovels, and shoving one towards Chris. “It’s super fun! Like, I get to color, but I gotta stay inside the lines which I guess can be hard sometimes. But like we also get to watch movies sometimes. And now I can count up to twenty! Which is how old Y/N is! How old are you?”

Chris lets out a chuckle at the girl’s enthusiastic debrief. “Well, I’m glad you enjoy school. I’m twenty too, but I won’t be in a couple more months; then I’ll be twenty-one along with my brothers.”

“You have brothers? I’m an only child, I dunno what that’s like. Wait, why are you and your brothers all turning the same age at the same time? That’s not how it works,” Lila says, her head tilted to the side in confusion.

“Ah, you see my brothers and I were born on the same day, so we all turn the same age at the same time,” Chris explains. “We’re triplets. It’s like twins but instead of two, there’s three of us.”

Lila gasps, sand flying up from her excited hand movements - which Chris notes she’s picked up from you - and into her hair. Lila remains unphased by this as she says, “That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, it really is.”

Lila quickly changes topics though as her gaze focuses on something behind her. “Let’s blow bubbles, and then we can chase them trying to pop them before they disappear!”

“Alright,” Chris agrees easily, standing up from the grass. He watches as Lila runs over to a little plastic picnic table and grabs a tube of bubbles.

“Will you blow them?” She asks, running back over to him. Once she reaches him, she holds out her hand with the bubbles in it out to him expectantly.

“‘Course I will,” Chris says, taking hold of the bubble tube and twisting it open. “Ready?” He asks.

Receiving a nod in response, he starts blowing the bubbles, watching them float out into the air and Lila chase after them trying to pop them.

Chris has a happy smile on his face as he watches the little girl giggle while trying to pop the bubbles.

“Chris, can you try and make a super big one? Y/N can do it, and it’s always so cool!”

Chris nods and focuses on attempting to make as big of a bubble as he can. It takes a few tries, all of which Lila giggles at, before he finally gets one out.

“Woah!” Lila gasps out, before giggling and reaching up to pop it with her little finger.

The bubble bursts and splatters against Chris’ face, making him scrunch it up in distaste. “Oh ew, soaps on my mouth now.”

Lila lets out a loud laugh at Chris’ distress.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” Chris asks.

“Mhm,” Lila says, attempting to suppress a giggle.

Chris doesn’t even hesitate before he drops the tube of bubbles and starts chasing after the girl. Her giggles so loud, they make you look over from where you’re making plates of food.

A soft smile overtakes your face as you watch them run around, your smile widening when Chris grabs hold of Lila and starts tickling her, making her giggles somehow get louder.

“Mercy! Mercy! M’sorry for laughing at you!” Lila squeals out. Chris surrenders and places the girl down on the bench of her picnic table, then sitting across from her.

“You’re silly, Chris,” Lila giggles. “I’m hungry,” she then whines out.

“Ah, well lucky for you, I’ve come to be your savior,” you say, placing a plastic plate in front of her. You place another in front of Chris before setting drinks down on the table as well.

“Thank you!” Lila shouts, before stabbing her fork into her mac n’ cheese.

“Thank you,” Chris says, smiling at you softly and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“You’re welcome, my love,” you reply, going to sit down before you’re stopped by a small hand.

“Sorry Y/N, but only two people can fit at my picnic table and I want Chris to sit with me,” Lila says looking up at you with an apologetic expression.

You let out a gasp of fake offense, placing a hand over your heart. “I can’t believe this! I’ve been replaced!”

Lila gasps. “No! You can’t ever be replaced! You’re my favoritest! Chris move, you can sit on the grass and Y/N can take your spot!”

You suppress a laugh at this. Chris takes it all in stride though, and moves to sit on the grass and you take his spot.

“So I’m taking it you like Chris then?” You ask Lila, taking a bite of your food.

“Oh yeah! I hope you keep him around, he’s real fun! And silly!”

“Yeah. Yeah he is, isn’t he? I hope he sticks around for a long while too,” You say looking at Chris softly.

He reaches over and grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers, resting them on the bench. “I will,” he assures.

[rise-my-angel]

SFW Alphabets

Jon Snow and Robb Stark

Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 17.7k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, character deaths, mild mentions of blood and gore, jealousy and possessive behaviors, mentions of past sexual assault and trauma, talk of pregnancy, disturbing imagery, mention of infant death

Notes: Much like my nsfw alphabet, this is primarily based off of my series Heart of the Great Wolf. Once more Jons is split between pre and post resurrection as I consider the character development between those years apart to be drastic enough to warrant further elaboration. NSFW Alphabet Here, Series Masterlist Here

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Robb:

There is no wondering if the King in the North adores his wife. From when Robb was young and first met you, he was eager to be your friend. Having a friend that was a girl was different then what he was used too, surrounded by boys and his brother. You were softer and more quiet, timid almost. He learned quickly that he needed a softer touch when handling you and that included physical as well. His mother had joked that it well prepared him to have a little sister by the time Sansa was born. Growing up, he would be tied between treating you playfully and treating you with a gentle touch, both things which would occur at the same instances sometimes. He would knock you down in the training yard, but gently help you up with a guiding hand right after.

Now however, that you are his wife? That affection has skyrocketed. Robbs eyes are bright and full of joy when you walk in the room and he refuses to be the kind of man who hides that. Why should he pretend his world does not light up whenever you step back into his view? His father never hid away his love for his wife, so Robb did not grow up with the idea that thats how men should treat the women they love, in hiding and private. He has you sit or stand right beside him during his war councils, refuses to be satisfied falling asleep unless you are tucked away in his arms in front of him. Always a hand is on you. It rests on your thigh during discussions, on your back or hips when walking as he keeps you beside him on his path to not stray too far.

Too Robb never shies away from having his lips on you. Not over stepping what is appropriate in a public setting, but he loves pressing his lips to you in any way. In passing he would kiss the back or side of your head, press a gentle kiss to your sweet lips when he cannot overcome his adoration of you right in front of him, kiss your hand or cheek when he is feeling more playful in front of his men. He never hides away from pressing his lips to yours in some way. There is no mistakening that Robb Stark showers you in affection, and he will never care about hiding that fact in front of anyone.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Affection is something that comes naturally to Jon, but in different ways. He truly has two levels of affection. One his siblings receive, which arguably is the more bountiful one, and the second is reserved only for you. He loves his siblings, he adores them. No matter how strained or distant or difficult they can get when he is balancing five of them in his life, he will always show them affection. Robb was known for it too, but none moreso then Jon was used to showing his siblings he cares by placing a tender kiss to their forehead. None of them have gone unscathed with that. Sometimes in it’s place, he’ll ruffle their hair instead to see their reaction. Arya and Rickon respond the best with that, and it only made him do it more and more.

But with you, it’s different. His affection isn’t as open. Jon adores you, he would never come close to saying it outloud and would hesitate to even think it to himself in private, but he loves you. His eyes are drawn to you, and he always wants to give you what you deserve, especially as the years passed and you grew harsher and more closed off in so many ways. He can’t show you such affection in public, it would cross a line that Jon knew he’d struggle to reign in before getting there. He’s playful and soft with you of course, but nothing that would stand out against the ways Robb was affectionate. Instead, the rest of it was saved for in private. Soft touches, gentle kisses and holding you closely to keep you warm and reassured. It was never going to be as much as he wished he could show you, but it was the best he could do for being with a girl he was never supposed to have.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Affection comes different to Jon now. There is a passion in his heart for you, but it is expressed in a way that to outsiders, looks cold and distant. In a way, he almost fulfills more the image which Northerners are known to have, a reputation of people who are only stern and unfeeling. But, what they don’t see is how deep Jons emotions run. They are almost caged inside him to not explode every chance they get, only ever doing so when it is with you. Once, Jon used to be scared of showing you that side of himself. Thinking it would scare you away.

It was a bit of a slow burn, as you both rekindled that love for one another where you returned that hesitancy to be affectionate as much as Jon, that almost helped him. He could step back and realize that he couldn’t stand being distant with you, but breaking his heart that you had resigned yourself to never having love again. It fueled that drive and passion to show you his deep love for you now, and once a crack was made in that regard there was no going back. All of that affection is now saved for you almost exclusively. His siblings, his friends, Ghost, of course they all experience it in smaller degrees, but his true passion? Jon saves that for you and you alone.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Robb:

If he were to attach the most strict labels to things, no he in all technicality, was not your best friend. That was his brother. But, that did not mean you two weren’t incredibly close. He had been eager to show you around at first, young and fell of energy and excited at having someone new in his life in a more significant capacity. So, once you started coming out of your shell, it was easy for Robb to step in and fill that spot which once held nervousness and replace it with a sense of adventure. You two got into trouble all the time, and it was always Robb’s fault but you two never changed behaviours nor even attempt to stop. You could shove him and insult him and he could ruffle at your hair and mock you and it never was unwanted or unforgivable.

The older you both got, that still stayed, but it became more mature in nature. Then much of that rambunctious and mischievous behaviour now focused in the training yard where a lot of that energy could come out. He and Jon both had a hand in teaching you things, and both had their strategies. Jon was more unforgiving, whereas Robb would feel comfortable making you step back and listen to his advice instead of teaching it to you with force. In your off times, you would still spend much time together. Now more laughing and drinking and sometimes even hunting, Robbs skill was never failing to be able to make you smile. Something which felt rare at times.

Now that you’re married? It is a completely different scenario. Especially after hearing of Theons betrayal, you became all the other had. You could only rely on each other, you both only truly trusted each other and would ensure as much time was spent together then anything else. Glued to your side as you were to his, everyone could tell once Theon had invaded with the Ironborn and taken Winterfell, that you and Robb never left each others side. You weren’t just best friends, you were the others only true remaining friends. It strengthened that love and bond that marriage had brought you. Maybe as children Jon was certainly your best friend, but by the end, Robb knew that he was your best friend as you were his and neither of you had any complaint about it.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

The truth was, Jon was your best friend. He was the one who finally got your shy, timid exterior to crack. He got you to open up, he made it easier for you to talk and laugh and finally let loose in Winterfell and he always felt pride in it. He had watched over your sick self for three days and three nights obsessing over not wanting to lose you despite barley knowing you, and he never wasted a single second since then. He grew up watching over you, and always being the one you circled back around to. He taught you how to use a sword first, he was the one who would wake you up to sneak out of the castle walls trying to find time for just you both together and no one else. Being the one you were closest too by a long shot, and he never took that duty lightly.

As you both grew older and closer, by the time Jon kissed you that night in the rain, he knew being your best friend would make this a little bit easier. He knew you well, your wants and fears and when you were holding back for his sake. Jon would be a little more assertive and make advances on you, simply because as your best friend he knew you better then anyone. No random Lord you may one day marry would know how to handle you, so he always did his best. You never stopped being his best friend just because you were together now. It only made your feelings for each other even stronger.

Jon Post Resurrection:

He knew it was ironic. Once you were best friends, and yet now, Jon was aware that things had changed. If right off the bat someone asked him who his closest friend was, he knew Sam would come out easy of his mouth, or possibly Tormund. You were the most important thing in his life, and being best friends was still something you were to one another but it wasn’t quite the same. That time period of being away from one another had changed aspects of you that developed separately and reconciling that when so much is different now came easier then he thought.

Jon knew now that you needed someone to be there for you now in a way that he couldn’t. For you, he knew Theon was your best friend now. And he understood that without any malice. Despite Theons painful betrayal, the both of you experienced trauma together at the hands of the Boltons had bonded you together in a manner that no one, including Jon would have any way to truly comprehend. He helped you escape to run to Jon for safety, and he could accept that it put Theon in a spot that Jon used to be as your best friend. He accepted that. Jon was so much more to you now, and you to him then merely best friends who love each other.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Robb:

This man cannot even sleep properly if you are not in his arms. The first night you married, you fell asleep perfectly in his arms and he drifted to sleep just as easily. You were warm and soft and comforting to his soul as he was yours. You were leaving for Kings Landing the very next day, and he had to treasure that time, and treasure it he did. For months afterwards as you were away in Kings Landing, Robb found himself resenting his bedchambers. He barley wanted to sleep in there and would put it off as much as he could. He’d walk in, and see the spot which should’ve been yours and yearn for you to suprise him by riding through the gates any moment. So when you returned to him? Not even the desperation of the situation could’ve settled the relief he felt in getting you back into his arms.

Now out in war, there quite literally had never been a night of sleep where you weren’t there. Some times yes, he was guilty of feeling so overworked that he never joined you in bed, but he was still there, in sight and watching you. Most nights he did sleep, and he’d always end up in the exact same position. Turning you on your side, and pulling your back close to press against his chest, arms wrapped safe around you and waiting for you to fall asleep first, before nuzzling into your hair and joining soon afterwards. It was the only times of true peace and contentment Robb had found in years and would find for years. In those nights, you both falling asleep usually bare and cuddled in the others arms were Robbs favourites and he would not hesitate to admit it to you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

When he was younger, Jon could get away with it. You were both young and innocent and no one would bat an eye at two children close in that manner. Jon had a vivid memory of an early night in your first stay in Winterfell. You were in a more empty stretch or corridors, and a great storm felt as if it had blown over and being in such a new place made you feel frightened. You had come to Jons room, quietly asking if you could sleep in there that night. Jon never hesitated to let you. You curled up right away as Jon tentatively inched closer before feeling confident to let a hand sit on your side so you felt him there as you drifted off.

But things got more complicated after you begun spending intimate time together. Jon would take whatever chances he could. Sneaking around with you meant that he was always on alert as to whom might walk in on you both at any moment, and he never could keep you in a position too long that you wouldn’t be able to jump away from to appear innocent. Only when alone in the wolfswood did he have that freedom, but that wasn’t a place to cuddle. He would sometimes lay down with you, careful in a position that while would get him into trouble if caught, could not be explained with a lie. He hated it, he wanted to have you close the way a man should with his girl, but Jon never had that chance. He never got to be soft with you the way he knew you deserved.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Again that cold Northern demeanour kicks in. His siblings, friends, and even the Lords and Ladies he is closer too all know differently but to many, Jon knew that he likely looked very distant from you. Hardly touching you in a public setting, and certainly never being so brazen as to kiss you in public. His reasoning being twofold, he was never a large fan of such public displays from couples but too it was to ensure his men respected you. Saw you as a capable Queen as much as they saw a capable King in him, and not babying you with physical touch in public was his way to subtly enforce that image.

In private though? He had nothing holding him back, nor at this point would he want too. Many times he could find himself coming up behind you, wrapping his hands around your front to pull you back into him or keeping his hands steady on your hips to keep you in place. Not shying away from pressing his lips to yours, and almost unsettled in bed if he did not have your frame curled into his front where he could hide you away and protect you from the world. The few nights he had to sleep without you cuddled into him were incredibly lonely, and typically, resulted in barley any sleep. He adored being so physical with you, but as much as something within him wanted to stake his claim on you for everyone to see in multiple ways, this soft tenderness when you both cuddled together was something that he was selfish enough to keep for himself.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Robb:

It is a little different for Robb. He has many skills of course, but he was the firstborn son. The heir to Winterfell. The eventual King in the North. There are certain domestic traits which he as a highborn and a King do not engage in. He knows how to cook, and he is not a child who has no understanding of keeping things clean or organized, but it is less of a priority. He will always have people to take care of those things for him. He does what he can, you both prefer to help each other dress and undress in the mornings and nights as opposed to having any maids or squires do so. You trim his curls when they get too long and sit perched ever so carefully on his lap to help trim his facial hair. He takes care of you in the bath, treating you like a fragile little doll to clean. But, he simply does not need to worry about such things as much as say, a smallfolk couple.

Settling down too is unique for Robb. He was raised with the unwavering expectation that he is to marry and have children. All highborns are raised to know this, and few would ever look down on it. Robb wanted it. He saw his father and mother and their happy family and always wanted one of his own. He was simply thrilled with the fact that he gets to have that with you. He doesn’t need to think much about settling down when it comes to you, its a duty, an expectation, and you both were prepared to do what needed to be done, and better yet, both of you enjoy it.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

A unique position Jon was in. He was born to a high Lord, and lived in his home with his trueborn siblings. He was raised with amenities that most could never dream of, and servants were always around. He didn’t have to do the hard work to lean certain skills, but, Jon knew he did anyways. As a bastard, Jon knew it was a possibility that he’d be completely on his own one day and would need to only rely on his own skills to survive. He could do everything that people, including himself, had servants for, he just had yet to need the skills to survive.

Settling down though? It was out of the question. The only one he’d ever settle down with is you, and that was not an option. A royal Baratheon girl was far too good for the likes of a bastard. Jon spent years in secret romancing you, always knowing in the back of his head that one day he would have to give you up, and he knew he would never settle for anyone once you were gone.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon now was not unlike Robb in some respects. Of course there were tasks delegated to maids and servants, things that he had partially grown up accustomed too, but also now as King in the North his time was needed to be dedicated to much more pressing matters. If left a certain amount of things that he couldn’t do for you, simply because of time. But, there were still many things you and Jon saved only for each other.

The ends of the night, Jon would undress you, and you him. It was a quiet time, tender where he could watch your focused work and admire you, and then in turn get to run his hands all over you and unburden you from the days woes, even if only for now in the heavy clothes on your person. He also at that point had the maids all know, that once the tub is filled, leave the rest. Jon would always take care of you there, enjoying the hot water and having you bare and pressed against him without the requirement to make it sexual simply because you were both naked. His domestic tendencies came in the little things, small matters which to many highborns were so insignificant that it would even occur to them to not make their servants attend to it, but Jon always did. He made sure he did those small things for you, and you did them for him right back.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Robb:

There is no breaking up. It was extremely rare that annulment was granted to a highborn couple, even Kings and Queens were denied annulments. Especially under the Seven, it was seen as close to a sin as it could get to break a union apart, and were children involved? Then never would it be granted. Tearing a family apart was not what he was raised to think was acceptable. Even when he was at an age he did not know what kind of woman he’d be to marry, it did not matter if it did not serve happiness to either of them. If he wanted a marriage that could break apart, he would go find a place in Essos that did not care about that sort of thing.

Besides, Robb knows he loves you more then anything, and you him. He has no intent on ever even considering what would happen if you both were to not be together anymore. From this day until our last days, that was how it was for both of you. And to Robb, your last days together would only be one which ended in death. Only death would tear your marriage apart at this point, and Robb would not have it any other way.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He had no choice. He wasn’t breaking up with you, nor were you breaking up with him, but this was all happening regardless. It was the Kings orders, or as you specified, your fathers orders disguised as the Kings orders. He knew he was going to have to give you up, but to his own brother? Robb? Who already got everything Jon ever wanted and now including his girl? It made him angry as much as it broke his heart, but he couldn’t show that. Showing how hurt he was, would only serve to hurt you more. He needed to be calm for you, to ensure you went into this inevitable marriage as strong and clearheaded as possible.

Jon felt a deep pain for a long time. You out of his life was one thing, you out of his life and making a new one with Robb was another. He never forgot about you at the Wall, or beyond it, or until the night he was stabbed by his own men. Nothing that happened made Jon forget you. He gave you up because he had too, but he took your gentle heart with him and kept it safe from that parting day until his last day. If Jon had a different chance in life, he knew without a doubt he would’ve never given you up.

Jon Post Resurrection:

There was no contest anymore. Jon had to give you up to his brother once, and it led to both of your horrific deaths. When he finally got you back, it was because you returned and brought him back. It was all a mess, but Jon knew he would never let you go again. And he would prove it time and time again, doing anything and killing anyone to keep you safe and alive and with him. It wasn’t forcing you with him against your will, it was very clear that you never wanted anyone but Jon the way he wanted no one but you, but Jon took that protectiveness within him and directed towards you with a burning fire blazing behind it. You two wouldn’t end until death pulled you apart, and even then, Jon might not be willing to let that stop him again either.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Robb:

Growing up watching the marriage between his mother and father gave Robb a more eager view of marriage then some other highborns. Many political marriages were cordial and civil, but few as he seemed to grow up realizing were as loving as the one in his own home. His mother and father truly spoiled Robb in the sense of what he grew up looking forward too. He wanted a bride he would love and treasure the way his father did his mother, to have children and a stable life with little issue. He was never scared of marriage, never saw it as a burden. It was a duty he looked forward too and even though all of that depended on his future bride, he still was optimistic.

When it was announced to him that he would be marrying you in only a little less then a month by the time the raven from Kings Landing arrived, yes it was a shock. He never thought it would be you he married, but he got used to the idea quick once the shock wore off. You were beautiful, sweet, intelligent, and he already had an idea of what living with you would be life, you’d served as his fathers ward on and off for half your life. He knew you’d be nervous, and apprehensive about putting Robb through this, but it just made him more eager to prove how much he wanted to do this. He wasn’t afraid of a life of marriage, and certainly not afraid of it being with you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Even if Jon took you out of his life’s equation, he’d never get married. Jon never wanted to marry or have children. Its what he had told himself for years. Being a bastard is lonely, no matter how much his father and siblings tried to make him always involved, there was that looming narrative over his head of who he was and always will be and how that made everyone else treat him. He never wanted that life for a child, and he never would have a child that didn’t have that name. No highborn lord would marry his daughter to a bastard, and he also simply wouldn’t wish to condemn any woman to taking a bastard name and giving their children bastard names. Or having another bastard on his own. It wasn’t an option. Jon would never do it.

In a world of fantasy, he would be able to marry you. That night under the Weirwood, you both talked of a life where you both lived in the Reach, meeting in a tavern near Highgarden and having nothing standing in your way of marrying. It was the only comforting thought Jon had at the Wall, the only thing he could turn to imagining that life. Multiple times he near found himself jealous of Sam for being from the Reach, as if that fact alone put Jon so much closer to that fantasy with you. It never would come, but he could think about it. He never wanted to marry anyone that wasn’t you as a boy, he never would marry anyone not wanting to condemn his child’s life to misery, and now at the Wall, he never would marry anyways. All he had was a memory of Highgarden and the Reach that would never truly exist.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Marriage was still a tricky subject for Jon, but not in the way he once thought. Now the dynamic was not giving you up, it was putting you back together after you had been ripped apart. The one thing through his jealousy over the years that Jon truly never wanted to do, was make you feel as if he was attempting to replace Robb. Nor did he ever want Robb to be watching him and think that either. He didn’t push for it. He thought of it all the time. He wanted to drag you out to the Weirwood the moment he had reclaimed Winterfell, but restrained himself for your sake, to not bombard you with his want of commitment when he knew how fresh the wounds were from losing Robb.

Then he said it. The first time making love to you on Dragonstone since that night in the cells of Castle Black, Jon said it in the heat of the moment. That he wanted to marry you, that such a thing was all he’s ever wanted. He couldn’t take it back. It was out in the open and you both finally talked about it. Coming together slowly to understand that little by little were you healing, and perhaps marrying Jon would help heal a part of you that felt so desperately alone. It was once of his favourite memories now, that beautiful evening marrying you under the Weirwood in his home the way he dreamed of since he was a boy. Jon was not afraid of commitment now, he was only ever afraid of pushing you too fast. But now that you are his wife? Now that he has you? Well, it is almost cute that you would ever find reason to doubt Jons love and affection for you. And he would spend his entire new life with you proving that no matter how often your frustrating little brain tried to lie to you otherwise.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Robb:

He is a man of duality. He can be both seamlessly and switch whenever he is needed to. One on hand, he was a Stark. Starks are as harsh as the winters they endure and he led an army of Northmen as their King. There was a degree of demand and respect he would get from his men and if not, establish his authority and make them respect that. He was not afraid to raise his voice, to be violent, to make the hard choices others would attempt to persuade him away from. But with you? It was different.

Rare was it Robb took anything out on you. Only once truly. Learning of Theons betrayal, his instinct was to ride North at once. Impulsive and rash but there was an anger burning inside of him for all he had just learned, and you were quick on your feet. Scurrying in front of him and pushing him back gently with your hands to implore him that you were all still at war. He had raised his voice at you, not to be mean, but a frustration and a helplessness manifested in an aggressive manner. You never held it against him through. You continued to show him support and counsel that he would understand until he felt his heart slow down from a racing speed.

Other then that, Robb was always gentle with you. Careful with your emotions, sensitive they were despite how hard you tried to show otherwise. Always sweet with you in the view of his men. He loved treating you like his Queen, treasure and spoil you like a Queen. He couldn’t do that here, not in an army camp in the middle of war, but he did so instead with how he treated you. His love for you was gentle, and while out at war, if that was the only thing he could treasure you with, he would do so with all the love he could summon.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Jon was almost scared of being rough with you in any way. Ironically you always joked that it must be the opposite considering how he was the one unafraid of roughing you up in the training yard, but that had purpose. That taught you to be stronger and quicker. But the moment you stepped out of that yard, it was different. Sure, he would playfully manhandle you but that was no different to the ways Robb or Theon would do the same. You were simply smaller then them and were easy to toss around. Arya got the same treatment, so she understood your plight.

But when with you alone, Jon was nothing but gentle. The moment you came into his life, he just fell in love. He was soft and kind to you, a watchful protector at first making sure nothing ill or hurting would befall you again. Easing you into the way things were here and comforting you when lonely. That all made you trust him more and more but it almost made him softer for you. Rasping low words he would speak to you, his touch even when innocent was always gentle. He never wanted you to feel as if he would ever go too far in any way, no matter how much you never thought it would happen. There were areas of Jons life where he was rough and unkind, but being with you was never one of them.

Jon Post Resurrection:

It is a contrasting feeling with Jon, the way he is now. He is gentle and rough both, and sometimes you never know which to expect. He was a man whom still held a temper with the sharpness of a wolves claws and you never truly know when he would let it all out. On his men, on those who disobey him, and even sometimes when he is frustrated with you, that roughness will slip. His voice raises every so slightly with a strain that tells you he is still holding back, his hand usually running down his mouth or along his face in an exasperation. Rarely does he too show gentle physical affection. He keeps his hands, comments, and for your own awareness, his eyes to himself. There is seldom an indication in the face of the public which tells them that you are at the side of a warm, and gentle husband.

Alone though? Jon can indeed be very different. He routinely can switch between that rough and gentleness. While the rough usually seems to come out as a result of what you both are doing in his bedchambers during the hour of the wolf, bat, or whatever other hour Jons needs grow strong, the rest of the time? He is gentle. His voice soft and tender, his touch slow and purposeful and almost always meaning to soothe more then anything else. The way he runs his hands through your hair as he does it all up, or untangles it from the day. Taking your clothes off gentle or running a cloth over you when he has you both in the bath. His tone always quiet and murmuring as that deep rasp is but an entrancing husk in your ear and you feel as large and intimidating as Jon can be, it is in those moments which he is truly gentle. Alone with you and no one else to be on guard around. You, Jon can be gentle around because you are the only one who does and will ever trust being vulnerable around.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Robb:

He won’t per say, pull you into a hug the way two greeting friends may. In sensitive times or comforting you after the heat of passion in his bed he would, but otherwise, Robb showed that affection in different ways. It was always tied into his affectionate manner, his hands always on you, seeking any excuse to press his lips to any part of you. Robb didn’t hug you often out in war, but he did the best he could pushing his touch right up to that line.

When he did hug? He was loving. Pulling you close, an arm wrapped around your waist and the other smoothing down your hair, or as best he could when it was done up simply in the encampment. Help you bury your face in his neck as he kept you there until whatever calm you sought him out for was found and eased your worries. He’s used to being the eldest brother, he knows how to comfort in a hug when his younger siblings came running. And even though it was a little more intimate with you, that instinct to make you feel safe and protected was still there, if not more inflamed then usual.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Stemming right from his affectionate behaviour, Jon is happy to give hugs to anyone he cares for. So many outsiders have this idea that the Northerners are such cold and uncaring people, when in reality, they simply save that for whom is most important. His siblings, especially the younger ones, got hugs all of the time while they were growing up. He and Arya even had their own special tradition, skinny and short as she was, she would jump up into his arms as he’d catch her and hold her close. One day he joked when she got older she’d be too big to do it anymore, but she insisted that the day she grew to be tall like Sansa would never happen.

With you though? That was the same, yet not. As children it could be, Jon could hug you and not think twice. It was not until he had become older, nearing his fourteenth name day that he realized that his physical closeness could be seen as with other intentions. So he changed things, usually keeping that for only when it was the two of you. Still you never questioned it, and it wasn’t until you both kissed did you realize why he had eased off of it and followed suit. He’d love to hug you more, but Jon just knows he can’t. He can’t hug you in public for risk of someone putting it together when he’d struggle to let go or keep it polite, and he couldn’t afford this being discovered. Not yet.

Jon Post Resurrection:

It once more was split between two sides of him. For his siblings? That affection had never gone away and it was going nowhere. The moment he and Arya were alone, she ran towards him, jumping into his arms as he caught her like it was any other time, or truly, like it had been the last time. She was a little bigger, and he a little more tired, but it was all the same. The same with seeing Bran again, the two brothers didn’t hesitate to bring the other into their arms tight, followed by a kiss to the forehead as Jon always had done with his younger siblings. One sibling did not have the same reaction, but she was another story, another problem which Jon did not wish to contemplate at that very moment. So he ignored their lack of affection.

It was not unlike before, but for very similar reasons oh his past life. Now, he could be seen with you, be open with you. But he chose not to, not in front of others typically. Jon reserved that softness for few people’s eyes. Perhaps it came from the fact that he knew even though the North called him King, he was still just a bastard. He felt he had to always prove he was worth this title that they and Robb bestowed upon him, trusted him with. He couldn’t look soft or distracted when it mattered, so he could continue to lead them all undoubted as much as he could manage.

In private though? Jon was always the one pulling you into his arms, keeping you close, and running his hands innocently over you. Having you in his arms felt safe, and as if he too were keeping you safe. It was comfortable, it eased the tension, the panic, the paranoia and vigilance which came forth with the traumas both of you had endured. He would ensure you slept with you in his arms, your front usually hidden in his chest as he keeps you hidden from the rest of the world, and many times, Ghost coming to sleep at your back to keep you just as protected.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Robb:

To an outsider? Yes it could be seen as fast. Married and together for only one night, then spent many months thousands of miles apart. By the time he said it, you had only once more been together for a few short weeks. Were that the only amount of time he knew you, that would be fast and it would be odd. He’d barley know you let alone enough to use such a passionate word.

But, that was not the case. He had known you since he was a boy of ten, and now at twenty and five, you were as part of his life as his siblings were, only more. It was after learning that his father had been murdered. He had taken you and twenty thousand some Northerners to march south and free him, and instead, Joffery had beheaded him for a treason he did not commit. It was beyond devastating. Robb was the eldest, the one leading this army. He should’ve been more composed, but he wasn’t. He disappeared from anyone sight. That pain needing to go somewhere he had slashed and hacked away at the bark of a strong tree as he let himself go more with each hit. You had come across him. Red in your eyes with tears he was sure you didn’t even know were pouring down your cheeks.

You had called to him, but there was little you both could say. You both knew. Instead, Robb dropped his sword as you both fell into each others arms. You both had promised to kill them all, and you both had told one another how much you loved them. He said it, you said it, and he never went back. It was natural to say it, because Robb did not care about the speed of which things were progressing emotionally. He needed you as you needed him now more then ever, and you both did not hide away that love was the most important aspect of all of it.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He feels it. Don’t ever get Jon wrong. Deep down in his heart, he loves you. He’s in love with you. Every definition of the word love for him belongs to you. It always has. Since the moment he saw you across the yard on your first day that spark was there, and it was only cemented that first night he watched over your ill, unconscious, dying self that he understood this would not go away. He knew then you were his and he was yours, even if he didn’t know then what the word was.

But, he’d never say it. He never did say it. Telling you that would make it real to the point there would be no denying that your future together was always in question. What love could you both truly share in earnest when it would be taken away by your duty one day? Jon felt it and he always did, but he never said it. He was sure you felt it as well, but again, he never said it. It was putting you at a risk he wasn’t willing to have. Saying it was love to each other would make separating so much more painful, so as much as he desired to tell you the extent to which he’d always been deeply in love with you, Jon never did.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon had almost said it many times, had said it passively a few times after that, and then one much more obvious time to ensure it got through your thick skull. You were scared, and distant, and traumatized at first. He refused to push you more then he worried he already had, and ensured that he wasn’t continuing to push you too much. Robb was a major factor. Jon loved you, he always had and now something dark, and clawing, and burning was deep within his chest that radiated something even more possessive then love, but he knew the part of him which as ostensibly still a man, knew better. Robb was your husband, the man you died with, the father of the child murdered within your womb beside him. He refused to have you wrongly think he wanted to replace Robb. He didn’t. Part of Jon wished and always had wished he could walk in Robbs shoes and even more when he married you, but not enough to push you before you were ready to handle it.

Now though? He wonders if he doesn’t say it enough. Jon is not an overly talkative man, neither you a talkative woman but you had the intelligence and eloquence of a life of royalty to know how to articulate yourself better then he could. Jon usually preferred to act a physical being, show you rather then tell you and he wonders now sometimes if he was neglecting to make sure you knew with no doubt that he loved you. You both felt it, but he knew sometimes he was so quiet and closed off, you may just so happen to doubt how much and that was a worry Jon did not wish to ever give you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Robb:

If there was only one truth in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms, it was that Robb Stark was indeed a jealous man. It didn’t always come off so easily. He wasn’t aggressive or rude, nor did he border into possessiveness about it. Robb knew he had you, you were his wife, about to soon be the mother of his child, and the Queen at his side. No one else stood a chance, let alone against the sheer love you felt for another. But, you were more then those things. You were still highborn, before this you were still essentially a royal princess just without the title, you were beautiful and intelligent and well spoken and your hand always sought after but never able to get close. Robb knew you were popular in the realm even if you didn’t see it that way.

Which meant in a camp full of soldiers, you were something for them to think about. He had eyes, so he could see how men looked at you. And through more..unnatural manners...did he also hear what they said about you in their private laughs. You were an object of desire for them, but it only bothered Robb when it was so brazen. When someone put you in that position directly, let alone in front of Robb. He never had to be aggressive about it. Robb knew exactly how to stand his ground and assert his authority without raising his voice or using force. He would make them back down without much effort.

He wanted to show you off, but he also wanted to keep parts of you all to himself and the best way to ensure no one overstepped, Robb would simply have to keep you with him at all times to ensure no one made you uncomfortable with comments or advances. Not that he was opposed to the idea, and he was fairly sure you weren’t either despite your protests.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Jon was jealous twofold. But that came as a slow burn of jealousy. At first, he was jealous of Robb. He was their fathers firstborn son, he was the heir to Winterfell, he was the trueborn and he got everything Jon wanted. On a good day, Jon could admit that Robb was better at him then near everything. On his bad days, he would wish to argue how much better at Robb he was then things, but, those came less and less the more he moved away from his teenage years. He was jealous of Robb his whole life, and there was no getting around that. But that jealousy didn’t come with hatred. Just envy.

Only, it was a bit different now. Still, there was no resentment or hatred, but that envy and anger was strong. Because now Jon had a reason to be jealous. Robb was marrying you. It was neither of your choices, but that did not take away from the fact that it was going to happen. You’d marry him, have his children and a happy life that Jon could never give you. It stung, it stung a lot watching the brother he always saw get everything Jon wanted, now too, having his girl. And in truth, even at the Wall, Jon never stopped being jealous. It always just sat there, brewing behind the scene ready to flare up at any moment.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jealous was the wrong word. Jealous implied that there was anything another man could want with you, from you, or offer you that he couldn’t give or have with you himself. Sometimes, what he got was insecure. What Jon felt was the weight of a bastard who married a girl raised as a princess, and what he couldn’t offer you. You deserved the kind of luxury you were raised with in the Crownlands, but he was a bastard, he hadn’t been able to give you that before and he barley could now. It made him insecure around very few, only those which could offer you such a life now. Jon had never said it outloud, nor would he, but there was a very short list of men who Jon feared may offer you the life of a Queen you deserve and he would only have the love in his heart to offer you to stay.

The only other thing he got was possessive. But that had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the fact that Jon knew what men were, and did not appreciate the thoughts of men being directed towards you. You were Jons, there was no going back on that now and he would glare so harsh across the way at men looking at you, that they’d stop simply because the men could feel the target of danger being painted on their backs. Jon would keep his distance, but take you harder and longer those nights. Leave a claim on you so deep that any man who came anywhere near you could sense his person on you thick like incense being blown in their faces, and they would know a possessive wolf had you for himself already.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Robb:

Robb will kiss you anywhere, any time. Literally. He needs no reason to kiss you. The second he shared your first kiss together in his bedchambers only hours before the wedding ceremony, he knew he’d find himself always wanting more. Especially now out here, at war. He would make sure he valued every single second he had with you in case of the worst. He’d barley ever let you walk away from him to attend to your duties without pulling you in for a kiss. He’d pass you by in any way and press his lips to your hair, or in front of his men to be formal yet cheeky, press a kiss to the back of your hand or a gentle peck on the cheek. All knew he wanted to kiss you more, but they were amused at their Kings attempt at self restraint.

Robb loves kissing down your neck. Not even to mark it up roughly, but how sensitive you were there the tender skin, how when you’d try to speak when he did so you’d stutter, and that high pitched gasp so sweet. Making your breath hitch each press of his lips? He loved it, it made you so pliable as you’d melt in his arms and he adored it. As for where you’d kiss him, Robb loved you’d press your lips down his chest. Usually making your way to another destination, but he loved the look of you small against his broad frame and your pretty lips pecking at what you could find as if unhappy to leave any skin untouched.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

It sounded so innocent to say, but Jon loved when you kissed his cheek. For years as a shy little girl, it was the way you showed you were grateful. A simple kiss to his cheek usually paired with that bright, sweet smile you saved only for him. He wasn’t brazen enough to do it back, too afraid it would show off his feelings, but sometimes when he was feeling cheeky, he’d dramatically kiss the back of your hand with a bow before leaving the room, always making you and sometimes his father laugh at his antics.

When he kissed you for the first real time though? Thats what he adored. Your lips were soft and perfect and followed along with his so well, it was as if you both were made to kiss the other. He couldn’t get enough of it, really. Not wanting to sound full of himself, but he kissed you so much and enjoyed it so much he considered it likely one of his secret great skills. He took pride in that, and any chance he had you properly alone for a decent period of time, he would spend hours kissing you if he could.

Jon Post Resurrection:

That had not changed in him. That Jons favourite thing to do was to kiss you. Only now, he did not need to hide it. And he was not so private that he would never kiss you where anyone could see your embrace. His usual now was a kiss to your sweet lips, before he’d cup your cheeks to tilt your head down, pressing a kiss to your forehead and many times the hair at the top of your head. Sometimes moving you back up at the right angle to kiss you once again.

He could never explain it, but there was something about kissing you that he adored. He was good at it, he could do it now whenever he liked, and he could control how long he kissed you and many times, often did. Stealing your breathe in a perfect way, your air taken away and being reliant on Jon to let you go to even be free? It was everything he wanted, and he exploited that. If Jon had one way to show his love, it was kissing you, and it was the one skill he could say he had over many men and he would hold to that one boost of real confidence.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Robb:

He grew up the eldest sibling. He had 5 brothers and sisters, he was very used to it. He was eleven, near twelve by the time Sansa was born. So he got very used to what little children were like, especially when Arya and Bran followed not terribly long afterwards. Rickon was still but a baby when he left Winterfell for war. He was confused by everyone leaving, and the chaos surrounding Brans fall and his mothers absence. He’d follow Robb around all day everyday, clutching at his leg and crying. Robb did what he could, and while what he could was alright, he suspected Rickon appreciated Robb trying more then if he succeeded.

It made wanting children with you easy. Seven hells he’d been trying, but war was taking an incredibly stressful toll on your body and he suspected it was making it harder for you to conceive a child. He didn’t blame you, it would happen when the gods knew your body was ready for it to happen and he wouldn’t try to force it any sooner. But he wanted children, at least six, as many as his father had. And the moment you had come to him telling him you were with child? Well, Robb knew it was only a matter of time before that picture became a reality, and he couldn’t wait.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Was Jon good around kids? Yes. Did he like kids? Yes. Did he want kids? No, never. He half raised four of his siblings, he was always good with kids and he enjoyed them. He adored that Rickon was born so late, so that while his other siblings were getting old enough to not wanting to be so attached to their siblings sides, Rickon was young enough that he still did so. Rickon was found at Jons side if not Robbs a lot, and they both were happy for it.

But Jon wanting kids? That was a life for a Jon that did not hold the surname Snow. He refused to father a bastard, and he refused to give himself any chance that would result in it. He didn’t go through with losing your virginity’s together that afternoon because of that dark voice in his head pecking at him like a raven asking what if he got you pregnant. He couldn’t do that to a child, being a bastard was not a good life for a child and he wouldn’t be the one to do continue the cycle.

Jon Post Resurrection:

If he were attempting to keep his words in polite company, Jon would simply say that he was more then eager to become a father. He half raised all of his younger siblings, he was always good with kids and he still was. He spent time with less younger ones these days, but he spent much time with Gilly’s son, Sam. Acting almost something like an uncle to the small boy, Jon felt internally that it was quite good practice for when you and him had a child and they came of that age. Not that Jon wanted to necessarily push you for that so soon, losing your first in your womb left scars both literally and figuratively that he was sensitive not to overstep.

It didn’t stop Jon from wanting them though. He wanted to see you swell with his child, with many of his children as he also wanted to see you with many little ones running about around you. He wanted to have children with you for himself as much as he wanted to make you a mother. Show you that this thing you always wanted, and one horror after another tricked you into thinking you either did not deserve it or could not have? He wanted to prove that this was still something you both could have, but now together. And marrying you? Well, the child according to you should still be named Snow, but they wouldn’t be bastards, and they wouldn’t be raised and known as such, and that was just enough for Jon to want to start giving you children now, and it was only a matter of time.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Robb:

Mornings are routine and not of much variety out at war. You’d both wake up, dress quickly in case something pressing should come up requiring his or both your attentions. You both would eat, and then truly, that tent is empty until nightfall. Mornings are not interesting in the sense of, your days are filled with duties and war councils. There isn’t time to spend on routines. Not out here.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

They were mostly uneventful from his early days to now. He slept alone, he got mostly ready alone and the maids would come in only once he was mostly ready for the day, wanting to have some peace to himself when he first woke up. He still does that now, only at Castle Black which means Jon had even less of a reason to dilly dally in bed. He had duties to attend to, and his father didn’t raise him to laze around.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Mornings aren’t as plentiful as he’d like now that he is King. He awakes before you most days, dresses, gets some smaller work done and by the time you arise? Jon will help you dress gently, stand you in front of the small vanity to sit as he does your hair for you in the styles you both preferred on you and he was an expert in. Stopping by the dining hall to eat briefly before his day started, and Jon was King, so he had duties to attend to. And that routine scarcely ever changed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Robb:

They would go one of two ways. Some nights, Robb felt the burden of this war bearing down on his shoulders. He’d be hunched over his desk in his tent writing and reading and planning and plotting. You’d be laying in bed trying to entice him to come sleep, but those nights it was impossible. He had too much to do and too much on his mind. Night would come and go and by the time he would consider sleeping it was so early to morning that it would be a waste. Those nights were not fun, they were the roughest on him and Robb tried to lessen how often he’d stay up so preoccupied with this war. He also simply put, didn’t like how much it kept him from enjoying you.

The rest of the nights? There also was a routine, but slower. It would start with undressing the other down to each of your softer night clothes. Having a meal together, and on a good night? A bath would be drawn which you both would take turns washing the other. Some nights you’d both stay there for a while, enjoying the others company. Other times you’d both get out and Robb would enjoy you in other ways. If you did not fall right asleep, thats when you both would find ways to preoccupy the other until you both got tired enough to sleep. Those nights were far more often then the previous kinds, and Robb was trying to work on them happening more often then not.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Nights were the same as his mornings. Routine, routine, routine. Only as a boy, Jon would drift asleep trying to come to terms with how in love with his best friend he was. That transitioned to being with you and resenting he couldn’t fall asleep beside you, to being at the Wall, and clinging to any memory of your sounds, looks, or touch to create a phantom of you in his mind to fall asleep to.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Nights were sort of the same as his mornings, but slower. Jon could take every task left and slow it right down, take his time to enjoy the quiet, the peace, and you. Undress you as he did the morning, you both taking your time with one another in a bath. He would sit at his desk and get work done while now you were there either helping for doing your own tasks which calmed him, giving him peace of mind that he always knew where you were. And many if not all nights would end with him in some way, taking you to bed. But that was another discussion entirely.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Robb:

Robb is lucky for how long he’s known you. At this point, there was very little for him to find out about you or you about him. Fifteen years of friendship before marrying you left little up to the imagination. That being said, marriage did mean there were some new things to learn about each other. More gentle and intimate details and Robb was perfectly content letting that all sit out in the open. What he liked, what he was like, what he wanted, none of which he’d leave your many times confused little head to figure out on your own.

Robb knew you had things he still didn’t know about, but you were always more reserved. More quiet about yourself, much like the way Jon could be which clearly was why you both were such good friends. But because Jon was like that, it meant Robb could handle that with you. You didn’t keep things to yourself to be malicious, sometimes he knew you would simply not know how to bring it up. Robb would put it together some times, and others not so much. But he was fine that you were slower to open up completely, because you accepted how open he was. Together it was as if you both completed the other.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Taking his time with you was important. He could always tell you were shy and timid, and needed to get used to even having friends the way Jon was offering. If he bombarded you with details about himself, there was no telling if that may simply scare you off. You were slow to open up, and Jon felt it fair to match that energy. Of course, he was keeping one big, fat secret that he was in love with you. Never telling you that he was so in love that as a boy, he would daydream about the ways he could convince his father to find a way to let him marry you. He never revealed those and never would, even now. Those were simply a little too embarrassing to admit.

It got easier when you both were older, and used to being together. Those quiet nights up far too late for your own good, talking and joking about anything you both could think of. You and Jon learned little details then which he treasured forever, and he knew you took to heart. Those moments, Jon opened up more then he had with anyone else. In truth, if he casted aside any of the physicality of him romancing you, it was those small little moments before his fire in his bedchambers that he treasured the most. Two quiet, reserved people opening up because it was just so natural with the other.

Jon Post Resurrection:

There was very little Jon had to hide from you now. There was a bond there, something deeper then love or friendship that tied him to you and you to him. Jon didn’t even need to be able to read you so well to understand what was going on inside your mind, and even more literally, your dreams. There was something tethering you both to one another and it made keeping secrets something near impossible now.

Even if he had secrets to keep that mattered, Jon did not feel compelled to keep them to himself. He wanted to tell you, he knew how you would react and why your reaction mattered. That was really all there was. That was it. Jon was open with you as could be, and implored you to feel safe and understanding that you could do the same, because that connection, that bond, that love between you both was now so strong that not being open was barley an option anymore.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Robb:

It was not that he was an impatient man, it was that the manner which Robb displayed his discontent with things might come off as impatient to the untrained eye. His men saw most of this side. His tone and demeanour darkening, and even though he would normally use slow and clear words it was laced with a bitter poison that would burn your skin were they to be directed to you. It was how he learned to establish his authority amongst so many lords which were older and more experienced then him. They perceived it as a lack of patience rather then them being put in their place. He never had to be angry when doing it, when Robb yelled in anger, that was when the men knew they had screwed up monumentally.

But with you? Robb couldn’t be more patient if he tried. He didn’t care about rushing you. Sometimes of course he’d persuade you into things, his patience almost being used as a seduction tool against you, but that was only in the bedroom. In your lives together, Robb would always allow you to take your time. He never had any reason to rush you. After all, you’d never get short with him, so why would be get angry with you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

That door could swing open in either direction. Usually, Jon was very patient. He wasn’t losing his temper and would keep his cool. Or at least, thats what he was like now. It took a lot of time to develop that skill. Jon knew he had a short temper, and it took years to reign that in. He never let it out on someone who didn’t deserve it, sometimes he was just angry and impatient when talking to someone but it was not personal to them. But with someone he cares about? Jon would get angry and impatient, but usually on their behalf. Once you were someone Jon cared about, it was a lot harder then anyone thought to make him mad at you.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon was a strange combination. He could both be a very patient man, but also a very quick tempered one. He could jump to anger and yet use all of the time in the world to stew on that anger. Death and returning to life had not changed that about himself. He seldom found patience for pomp or elongated formal routines. He wanted to get to the point to get to what mattered.

It was you he was patient with, caring for your much more soft and sensitive mind then the one he left you with. Only once had he taken his anger out on you, and Jon had and would continue to go to the ends of the world and back to prove he’d never do it again. It was an awful truth he learned, and took it out on the only person near, the one who told him that truth, you. He would never do it again, and you fully trusted in that.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Robb:

Raised as the heir to Winterfell, it is safe to say that if Robb was not born with a good memory, he was raised to gain one. Afterall he had places and lords and knights and servants and people and towns to oversee. Names of the families families and beyond. He had a lot of information rolling around in his head, but he was at this point well organized about keeping them in order. He could compartmentalize things and keep himself from losing his mind.

With you though? He’s known you since he was ten years old. It would have to be a failure of grand proportions for Robb to not know every little detail about you. Some he didn’t even realize he remembered years later until it came up in passing. But he’d known you for so long that you were hardly a stranger. What he learned since being married? Well, those were new details to remember which made them even less likely to be forgotten. Learning things about you after thinking he’d known all there was, was exciting. Seeing you in a new light and he eagerly treasured everything he’d learn about you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Truly, what even is there to say? He knew everything about you, because he watched you all the time. You haunted him, he saw you in everything and everyone and it was only because he knew so much about you, that he could connect the smallest of dots and lead it back to you. Jon wanted to know everything there was to know about you, and he had the memory to ensure it would never go away. He feared using the word obsessed, but, if he were to be brutally honest with himself, yes, he knew everything about you, because his love for you always bordered an obsession, which included knowing everything there was to know about the pretty Baratheon girl in his home.

Jon Post Resurrection:

There is little to even elaborate on. Jon remembered everything and anything about you when you were just a pretty Baratheon princess he was in love with. Now you were his wife, and you both were linked by blood in a very dark and unchanging magic sort of manner. If he knew everything there was to know about you before, Jon knew even more now and he doubted that even somehow losing all of his memory in some horrid accident would truly rid him of the knowledge he learned and held about you. Because everything he knew about you was in his heart, not his mind.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Robb:

There was only one answer. Everything had fallen apart. Theon had long since betrayed them, his mother betrayed him by freeing the Kingslayer, his plan to capture and kill the Mountain had somehow been ruined and his plans to second handedly assist Stannis Baratheon sailing on Kings Landing by keeping the Lannister forces distracted had thusly fallen out too. News came that his grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully had finally passed after being ill for many years at the same time news that Winterfell had been burned down and Bran and Rickon were likely dead added on top.

Robb had gone the entire day trying to keep himself together. Finally in the room he was to use as his bedchambers for the next few nights, he sat on the edge of it and allowed the emotions to flow. He hadn’t cried the way he did when learning of his father, this was more of a defeated cry. Tears fell from his eyes without much fuss as he hid his head in his hands. Then you had walked in.

Nervous and wide eyed, you went to him to soothe his pain right away. Robb was receptive to it, as he declared that you only had each other anymore. But you had other ideas. Opening up his palm you dragged it under your clothes to rest upon your stomach and gently stated, “You have us.” Us, him, you, and a baby in your belly. It was an instant change the moment he put it together. Robb had many happy memories of you both, but nothing beat learning in the darkest of moments, that you both were to have a child together. It would always be a memory Robb would treasure until the end of his days.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

That would be the night he kissed you. A game of hunt, you, Robb, and Jon would play it for fun out in the wolfswood at children, but now older with Theon it was more of a challenge. You and Theon were quick and good at hiding, and Robb and Jon knew the wolfswood like the back of their hand. They’d hunt you both, and were one or both of you to not get caught by the middle of the night, you’d win.

It had begun pouring rain as the sky turned dark, Theon had been found. You hadn’t. Robb tried to get you to give up, but you likely thought it was a trick. Jon stayed behind to find you, perhaps, with intentions he wasn’t entirely sure he had yet. By the time he caught you, he could tell the air had shifted. He could tell you felt a charge and that something was going on. You tried to run, but he panicked. If you left now, Jon may never find the courage ever again and he couldn’t waste this single opportunity. So he made you stop, turned you to press your back against a tree and with only a few short and painfully tense seconds passing, Jon made his choice and kissed you.

Many things that happened in the years since that moment, but that one? Jon knew that memory would stay with him forever. The kiss he was terrified to give you, but opened the gates to a mutual love that he’d keep close to his heart until the day he died, and even then, not even death could pry that memory away from him.

Jon Post Resurrection:

There were a few which stood out. Guilty, Jon knew many of which were filthy. That night on Bear Island when he finally managed to get you to open up to him, feel comfortable around him the way he knew you were craving but felt guilty about. That first night when you brought him back, how chaotic his mind was while trapped with Ghosts, both their consciousnesses blending together in such a strange way both he and his direwolf feared would be forever. Then returning and knowing somehow it was by your hands? Seeing you was one thing, wide eyed and fearful not knowing it was not danger you were walking in on, but something you both thought at one point you’d lost. He dared not retread the manner which he took you multiple times, lest his mind dive far too deep in a perverse thought he could not escape.

But there was one innocent one, one he never thought he’d have because one day he saw you on the opposite end of such a sight years earlier. He watched you marry Robb under the Winterfell Weirwood in the summer air surrounded by strangers. But, then it was Jons turn. He was the one who married you under the Winterfell Weirwood in the perfect snowy winter surrounded only by people whom cared about you both, and you both to them. How quiet it was, and this time how that quiet was not filled with his mind in agony, but peace. Feeling your gloved hand under his as you both knelt before the heart tree to prey, and how he lost a little of his reserved sensibilities and kissed you. Perhaps a little too passionately. Twice. But it was a romantic daydream he thought of many times as a young lad and long since given up having with you, and yet here you both were. Choosing it of your own volition. Not even the night you shared together in his bed could top the ceremony itself, not a single thing.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Robb:

As King in the North, there is no lacking of protection at his own back. Everywhere he went, men and guards followed especially here in the south at war. He was not particularly thoughtful of his protection, because he had what he could have and made it work as best he could for a man who’d ride into battle at his mens sides.

As for you? He was very protective. Losing you would be devastating. With no room for question, Greywind would follow you no matter what. The direwolf was fine with it, feeling both antsy at war and not in battle, and Robbs love for you extended to his wolf. Guards followed you as well when necessary, but really? Keeping you right at his side was Robbs protection. He knew where you were and what you were doing and how safe you were that way. If he could see you, feel you, hear you? His mind was at ease. He could rest well knowing you were safe at his side. Perhaps he should award you with more freedom sometimes, but as long as you didn’t truly complain, Robb would continue to let his protectiveness be overbearing.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He’s always been protective. When he was young, Jon would stand over you almost like a guard dog. Or a guard wolf really. You were small and innocent and adorable and he felt a deep and burning need in his blood to keep you safe. He always could be found watching over you if time permitted, and he knew spending time with you was the best way to protect you.

That didn’t change the older he got, and in truth, it didn’t change at all. Jon did the same things, only now you knew why he was so protective, and you still didn’t protest. A bit of pride could fill Jons chest, that you even now, were still appreciative that he would always watch over you.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon? Protective? What ever could you mean? If anything were to happen to you, Jon would station every single guard in as many locations as he could and make sure Theon ensured you had two guards following you at all times at the least. He never has spoken it to you, but he and Theon have indeed had discussions about protocol in regards to your safety as both are aware that you sometimes let your own self preservation fall lax in favour of doing things for other people. He is just waiting for the day someone tries to go too far with you in any way to let it all out, and everyone including you will see how protective their new King in the North will become about his wife.

But personally? Jon watches you like a hawk. His dark eyes always seeing, his keen ears always hearing, and his senses merely knowing where you are in relation to him in the room. He has Ghost follow you often, and many times, not that he would tell you, has gone into Ghosts mind to watch over you himself during the middle of the day if he can spare the time. He is possessive and obsessive about keeping you safe, and most would and will see it as overprotective and overbearing, but Jon can genuinely do no less when it comes to you. Without you, he would he a shadow of his former shadow.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Robb:

He’s at war, he does what he can. Meals are not extravagant. There’s no where he can take you. There isn’t much of anything for special days or name days that you could give each other. At any time, you would have to pack up and leave or lose something charging into battle. What you offered each other out here was emotions, was support and love. Not tangible gifts. Were Robb able to take you back to Winterfell where you both belonged? Of course he would spoil you endlessly, but he had to keep focused. Not spend too much time in the fantasy that was nowhere close just yet.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He couldn’t do much. He had to be careful. Anything too elaborate could get him caught, and you caught, and it would all be over. There were times Jon would plan out days to spend with you out in the wolfswood, but that wasn’t anything special. That was necessary, planning out how to spend as much close time with you in private as possible, where, and when would be too long that it would be suspicious. You both tried, gifting each other small things that would mean a lot to the other, but Jon was unable to give you what you deserved. He couldn’t afford too, not if he didn’t want to get caught.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon does not have much in the way of opportunity to do things for you in a traditional sense. What anniversary would you two celebrate? Thats far too complicated and too much pressure for both of you, his duties and yours leave the day to day very busy and no time for anything such as dates or courtship. Neither of you have been very good at giving each other proper gifts for celebrations or name days nor does Jon want to put pressure on you by doing more, because he knows it would wrongly pressure you into thinking he expects you to do more when he doesn’t want that.

What Jon does do, is make up for it in a slightly insecure way. You many times now lost all of your possessions. Most of what you owned had been in Kings Landing, which were lost to you the moment Ser Barristan Selmy smuggled you through the tunnels underneath the Red Keep and out of the city. Then anything you and Robb acquired when at war were lost when the Boltons and the Freys betrayed and butchered you both. Anything you owned when a prisoner of the Boltons were not yours and you would rather burn everything they made you own or wear then keep it for keeps sake. You had arrived at Castle Black in clothes they gave you, and when Jon had what little of clothes in the Nights Watch he could have made tailored to you, you wore those and left the rest behind until Maege and Alysane Mormont gifted you more proper clothes on Bear Island. Everything you owned after that? Was because of Jon.

Was it insecure? That he was trying to make up for being a bastard, by giving you everything he could? Possibly, but he did it anyways under the guise of simply giving you your belongings back. He had dresses made for you all the time, had books found or sent to Winterfell to fill the little bookshelf he had made for you in the bedchambers because he knows you miss all of the unique collections you had in Kings Landing. Jon spoiled you in those sorts of gifts, but truly, he didn’t quite know how to stop.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Robb:

His jealousy was his worst habit. You didn’t seem to mind it, but Robb knew it could be a problem in his own relationship to other men. He didn’t often let you see the effects of his jealousy, but his men did and sometimes that could only add on top of his jealousy because now you were further the centre of attention. Which only encouraged his jealousy further.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Truth be told, Jons worst habit was you. Keeping you a secret, not giving you the romance and care you so publicly deserved. Not courting you the way a lord would or should, but in the shadows were he ruined things about your purity because he couldn’t stop himself. He never went too far, but it didn’t mean Jon was not aware that he was not treating you with the proper respect. He was not treating you the way a royal girl deserved. He knew he was reckless by being with you, but he couldn’t stop. It was Jons worst habit, but he couldn’t stop.

Jon Post Resurrection:

He is possessive, obsessive, and near addicted to you. Jon knows it is a problem, you are so much of his life. Maester Wolkan put it perfectly once. Since he was brought back from death, Jon has genuinely never known a life you were not in. You brought him back and have been at his side every single day since. You did not. You came back to life alone and traumatized and tormented and tortured. So he knows he is more obsessive about you then you are him to a degree that makes him feel a bit mad. He should be more reasonable about you then he often is, but he cannot help it now and it is terrible and scares him. He was once scared it would all frighten you off, but now hes more aware of how it looks to others. The North has more or less gotten used to it, but how will he appear to any outsiders? It was hard to say and Jon was certainly not looking forward to finding out.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Robb:

Not in an extreme sense was he overly concerned with his looks. Obviously, Robb had eyes. He knew he was handsome, and he knew women thought he was handsome. Bright and bold blue eyes, brown and reddish rich curls, and years of training had sculpted him with muscle. He took a certain pride in his appearance but he was not vain about it. His life and person was not defined by how he looked, it simply encouraged a bit of confidence more then before.

The only time he truly realized how much he cared about how he looked, was when you were to arrive in Winterfell with the Kings company. You knew what he looked like, it wouldn’t come as a shock but it really felt as if there was a pressure to reassure you that you should be happy with all aspects of marrying him. He wanted you to be attracted to him, but really, it did not take much to put together that you were. How quickly your mind was getting used to the idea of being with him and by your wedding night together? Robb knew you and he were as attracted to each other as you truly should be.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Jon was not terribly concerned with how he looked. It was the perception of who he was as a bastard that mattered to him. Not what they thought of his looks. He looked how he looked and whatever care he put into it was nothing compared to how be obsessed with the way people perceived him. He knew you found him attractive, and that was the only validation he needed. He put in the effort of himself for you, and the rest of it was whatever it was. You were the only thing worth charming, and if you didn’t complain about how he looked, Jon would not spend his time fussing over it for your non existent sake.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Truly, you are attracted to him. Thats all that matters. He thinks little of how he looks, his shape, his scars, his hair, any of it. You like how he looks and there isn’t a single thing that would matter to Jon more then that. People can say what they want, as long as you’re happy looking at him, thats all the validation he needs that he’s doing enough to impress you as he believes a husband should.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Robb:

You were always important to Robb, but now? Now you were his whole life. He dragged you from battlefield to battlefield, fighting one side of a war to another and watching the toll it took on both of you. But, you were all each other had in the end. Your love for each other and now the child growing inside of you? What Robb would do without you? He couldn’t imagine a life beyond you.

Returning home? One day being forced to remarry and have a child that wasn’t the one he created with you? Robb didn’t want to feel whole without you, there was a comfort in being so in need of each other. Being out at war, who did he have? His brother sworn to a new life, two of his brothers first hostages and now dead, one sister missing and likely dead, and another still a hostage he won’t know if he’d ever see again. His father dead, his mother betrayed his trust, his friend betrayed his family? Robb only had you, and with how split your family was, you only had him. Robbs entire life was you, and in truth, at that point, he was okay with that.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He could, but by necessity. Jon was going to give you up one day. He was being selfish by keeping you the way he did. He felt complete when he was with you, but how complete was he truly when he knew it would not last. He had to be his own person outside of that. He had to be complete without you, because one day you wouldn’t be there. He cheated a little, taking your heart with him to the Wall meant he never really let you go. You stayed in his memory for that entire time and perhaps yes, once could say Jon didn’t feel complete without a part of you. But he had no choice but to handle it, and when you were dead, well, that completeness was clearly important to him. Because he felt more dead inside without you in the world then ever before. He only had no idea how much that would change one fateful night.

Jon Post Resurrection:

No. All Jon knows in his soul, is that he is made for you and you him. Something stronger then love is there in his veins burning for you like he’s been strapped to a pyre only you are there with him, feeling the same. Something between you both has put you on each others path to such a powerful degree that it used to scare him. He thinks it still scares you, but that is alright. He is happy to be brave enough for both of you as long as you need him to be, because he is never going anywhere. He had to give you up once, and it lead to both of your deaths. In this new life, where you are the one to bring him back of all people? Jon will never let you go again, and he couldn’t.

Death is the only way that could tear you from Jon at this point, and even then, Jon knows he would do whatever it took to be the one to bring you back to him that time. Nothing would tear you both apart anymore, he would not be himself without you. He would walk, and talk, and fight for his people but everything that brought Jon back a man, a human, it would all be for nothing without you. Without you, he would walk this world a husk of a man that used to have a heart and soul.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Robb:

He’s never told you about when he was fourteen. He doesn’t quite recall when or why it begun, but he remembered looking at you differently. At twelve you were still short and young and innocent, but there was part of you that was mature. Your nature, your mind and truthfully, were you not so short then, you looked his age at the minimum. It was easy to fall for you in a heavy crush.

You were his first real crush that meant anything, and he had once made the mistake of telling his mother and backtracking saying not to ever bring it up. It went away on it’s own, he never would’ve gone to you about it especially when you were so innocent. But it existed, and when he was told he was to marry you, in truth? It made adjusting to it so much easier. Robb knew he was never going to have a difficulty falling for you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

When Jon was finally considering if making love to you was something you would both be interested in, Jon had a dirty little secret. He never followed through on it, but it came into his mind. He wanted to make sure it was good for you, that it was memorable. Jon was as much a virgin as yourself, but he wanted to take care of you. You’d be a scared thing in his bed, and he needed to be confident. But, he didn’t know how. So he considered it. Only finding his way to the Winter Town brothel to ask the whores there for advice. But, the bastard son of Ned Stark being seen going into the brothel? He’d never hear the end of it, and he never would want you to think he was being unfaithful. So, he never did it, but he wanted too. Just to ask them what to do, how to make you feel good. Instead, he went into that afternoon having to trust his instincts, and perhaps, for his confidence’s sake, it was a good thing that in the end, both of you changed your minds.

Jon Post Resurrection:

It is a very small thing, but he would feel embarrassed if you knew. Jon knew you loved to read, and that you must have had such a wonderful collection in Kings Landing. When on Dragonstone, one morning Jon walked the castle alone. He came across a grand library full of books and scrolls, half of which were in a language he did not know, only assuming it must have been High Valyrian. He could imagine you in here for hours and hours looking and reading through everything you could. He had gone to Selyse, asking if there were any books he should take back with him to suprise you with. Where you were he didn’t even know, but she pulled out so many. Half all in High Valyrian but she assured Jon that these were ones you read time and time again always deeply invested, and many more in common that he could understand your appeal in them.

Even now, he still asked her for more suggestions. He’d ask any in Winterfell now who knew you as a girl what to have brought in for you to read. You never said it, but you knew it was suspicious that the little bookshelf he brought into the chambers for you was full of titles and books he never would’ve heard of or known to bring in for you. But you read them happily all the same, and that made it worth it. Afterall, Jon still had trunk loads of books which he hadn’t let you know he brought over for you yet, and slowly would build your new little personal library in Winterfell a bit at a time just because he knew seeing a new title on the shelf made you happy.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Robb:

In a partner, Robb has a few things which are important to him. Many of which tied in together. You had to be someone who respected who he was as a Northmen, respect the North itself, his family, his beliefs and causes. You should have your own opinions and feel free to say them of course, but as a partner, as a wife at his side? You needed to be on his side. Robb’s beliefs and values were of great important to him as they were for many Starks, and he needed someone who wouldn’t stand there and fight him on the basis of what he believed.

He needed to be able to make the hard choices, and not have his wife stand opposite to him and tell him he’s wrong. There are things he needs to do as a Lord and now a King, and he needs a wife who won’t disrespect the heavy burden which comes with that. He will always take care of you, but in your own way, he needs you to take care of him right back. He needs a wife who will give and take, your strengths match his weaknesses, and his strengths carry for yours. Anyone who can’t give him that, would be a wife Robb would have great difficulty in adjusting to.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Forward, aggressive women. Truth be told, Jon never considered what kind of woman he didn’t like, until he met Ygritte. That was the harsh lesson he learned. She was everything you were not, and whatever similarities you shared were superficial. She took all of those to the extreme enough that it didn’t matter anymore. She was angry where you were sweet, she could be dense where you were incredibly smart and perceptive, she was aggressive where you were considerate, she was loud and mean where you were quiet and gentle.

He foolishly thought he could pretend to not love you anymore, just to be able to pretend to love her, but it was stupid. It got him shot full of arrows, and a deep understanding that it was pointless to ever think he would replace your love. But, it he had to pretend ever again, Jon knew it could never be a repeat of what Ygritte put him through. You never forced Jon to do anything against his will.

Jon Post Resurrection:

In truth, it had not come to pass yet. But he was waiting for the day it would and he hated that he still did not have a plan of how to handle it without issue. If Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne, he would never at this point agree to his aunt, the Daenerys Targaryen to be his Queen nor did he think from what little he hear do the woman, would she want that either. But, Aegon would need someone strong at his side, stronger then most Queens in recent passed. And Jon knew who that strong Queen was.

You were married to Jon, and when you had children it would be even more difficult to make happen, but Jon had a terrible feeling that the men around Aegon were smart enough to recognize the power of combining the feuding Targaryen and Baratheon on the Iron Throne once and for all after all of the fighting and rebellion, and Aegon likely would begin to see the benefit in that union as well. He did not know what would happen when the day came that such an idea came to fruition and turned into something akin to a plan, but Jon was desperately working away in his mind at how to stop it. He was only a bastard after all, and in the eyes of many in the south, him being a bastard was an insult at your side, and someone like the true heir to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen would be a fitting suitor for you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Robb:

Robb’s sleeping habit is that he will always sense you moving. If you try to slip from bed, he will yank you back into his chest. Even without being awake, Robb can sense where you’re going and if he can help it, will make you stay with him for as long as he can keep you. If not, Greywind has been known to wake up in his place and follow you. Robb wouldn’t call himself a needy man, but when he has you, his pretty little wife in bed, especially out in a war? He’s keeping you with him as long as possible before he needs to get up and face the day. His men and this war can wait twenty more minutes for him to get his fill of feeling your soft self pressed up against his front.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He struggled with sleep. He always had. He’d have strange, dark, melancholic dreams that would almost plague him with a sense of doom. He slept alone his entire life, despite knowing what it felt like to have you in his arms. Sleep always came to him with difficulty, both in falling asleep and with how often he’d wake up in the middle of the night only to struggle once more to fall back asleep. He’d get up and do things to occupy his mind, he’d wander, some nights even finding himself in the training yard alone hoping to let out that energy he couldn’t do anything with otherwise. Sometimes he thought maybe he’d sleep better were you next to him, but Jon would then glance in the general direction of the corridor your own chambers were in, and told himself with anger to give that dream up. Once the dreams started at Castle Black, that sleep got no better, and it only got worse and worse until that night came where his own brothers were prepared to put him to sleep for good.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon hates sleeping without you in his arms. There have been very few times you have not slept in his arms since you and he reunited, but those few times drove Jon mad. He despised them, he barley slept. He would take Ghost and sit in the Godswood the way his father used to after a kill to stew in his thoughts in the eyes of the Old Gods. Only it was simply a very grumpy man who missed his wife.

When you both did sleep in the same bed, he stayed awake longer then you. Watching over you as you slept to make sure he could protect you from even your own nightmares. He never told you about how often he had nightmares of his own. Nor that he would wake up many times and rip the sheets and furs off of you to push up the thin fabric of your shift to look at the scars on your womb, and up more to see your chest breathing in your sleep. He’d feel the scars littered about his chest, then feel his beating heart over the final one and pull everything back into place, then drawing you back closer into his arms before trying to settle long enough to sleep once more.