#Where I can’t go back inside for a good while because my face is stained with tears

[skhardwarevers1]

I can’t wait for the weather to get warmer,,

[neowinestainedress]

SECRET — lee jeno

𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄: secret

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lee jeno x fem!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: smut, fluff (at the end), established relationship, kink discovery, relationship development

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jeno has a secret he can’t tell anybody, not even you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: sub!jeno, dom!reader (it’s their first time reversing roles so they’re both exploring how it feels like), implied masturb*tion, n!pple play, kinda hand-free org*sm/coming untouched, an*l fingering, riding, overstimulation, praise kink, minor degradation, size kink (but reversed??? reader is not bigger than jeno but somehow jeno feels small and likes to feel like that), ch*king, names used for jeno (baby boy, good boy, pup/puppy, pretty boy), names used for reader (ma’am, miss, mommy), big d!ck jeno, there’s nothing wrong with being a sub but jeno has issues because he has to always be strong so it doesn’t feel right for him, count the times I say ‘please’ in this (not my fault jeno is the bestest boy ever), aftercare (and kink discussion)

𝐖𝐂: 10.202k

𝐀/𝐍: a gift for my love @yellowgirllsblog, I converted her to subjenoism so I’m on a mission to let more of you see the light of the day and appreciate sub!jeno more. ps: you will never catch me call twitter ‘x.’ enjoy and if you do, please reblog and leave feedback! love u!

Jeno has a secret.

Once you’ll find out what it is, it won’t seem a big deal, but to him, it is.

It’s so big, so stressful, and so shameful, he can’t even talk to you — his sweet, loving girlfriend — about it.

It’s stupid, really. Deep down Jeno is well aware of how dumb it all sounds, but every time he faces it, it looks like a big mountain he can’t climb — and that will probably crumble on top of him, smashing him on the ground.

Stupid or not, big or small, it haunts him every day. Yes, every day. At first, Jeno thought it was just a temporary thing, something that piqued at his curiosity for fun, but soon enough, he fell down the rabbit hole. Looking back at it now, he probably was buried deep in the rabbit hole since forever but he —and the perception others had of him— did a good job at polishing the place real nice and don’t make him realize where he was.

Jeno accepted he is far gone a while ago, but he still can’t wrap his head around it. How is that possible? How could he, out of all the people, like something like this, be like this.

And that’s why he keeps it to himself, praying that if he doesn’t act on it, if he pushes it out of his mind, it will just leave. He’s strong, and fit, and he pounds into you every night, giving it to you like you want it. He can’t be anything else other than this, nothing but a confident, strong man that can’t be vulnerable.

But it turns out that pushing it out of his mind is not as easy as it seems. Jeno might be weaker than he realizes when he keeps going back at it, sipping on it at small doses, almost as if whatever he is holding in it’s a drug he doesn’t want to get addicted to — not knowing he already is. But for now — and forever, he thinks — this is just a fantasy, he can’t get addicted to something that is not real, to a version of him, no matter how authentic it feels, that can’t come out. But he slips further every day, hiding in your shared bedroom with his laptop or phone when you’re at work and he can have a bit of time to himself, when he stares at the box with your toys and lets time pass by because he doesn’t dare to do the next step, and lastly when he fucks his fist with your used panties and calls your name… or well, how he wishes he could call you.

And then clarity hits him again, making him groan as he rushes to the bathroom on wobbly legs, throwing your stained panties inside and starting the washing machine while he questions himself; why? He feels pathetic; masturbating over you as if he needs to fantasize about you, as if he doesn’t have you every night, and every day, and yet, it’s still not enough, it’s not how he wants you. But he feels guilty, he feels like he won’t be enough if he confessed to you, if he let you know his secret. And most of all, he’s terrified he’ll lose you. This version of him is not the one you picked, is not the one you love. And he’d damn himself forever if he lost you for something so silly.

So, he sighs, takes a deep breath, and then exhales deeply, rubbing his teary eyes before pushing his tired body up from the wall to walk back to your bedroom and fix himself.

Jeno has a secret, and he will take it to his grave.

Your boyfriend has been acting strange for a while now. At first, you figured he was stressed because of work, but now, you don’t think that’s the only reason.

Your brain goes crazy, imagining the worst-case scenario, the top one: he wants to break up with you. So, you start acting strange, too. Panicking, over-analyzing everything, and mostly, bracing yourself for the worst. Every time he starts talking to you with a serious tone, you fear that those words will come out of his lips, especially when before starting the conversation he stares at you for minutes and thinks so loudly you can almost hear his thoughts.

But the worst never comes, this goes on for weeks, and even if your boyfriend does act strange, nothing of his weirdness leads to a breakup, literally nothing can make it plausible, and even your brain gives up keeping you up at night with the fear of you losing him.

Jeno has never been so touchy. His hands are always on your body, any excuse is valid to let his fingers wander on your skin; if he needs to help you pick up something, if he needs to reach for the remote, if he has to leave for work, anything as long as he gets to feel your warm body.

And that doesn’t shock you much, Jeno has always made it clear how much he finds you attractive and how obsessed and in love he is with you and your body, but well, not like this. His fingers seem almost fearful, and so are his lips when he kisses you, and even something about his eyes doesn’t seem quite right. And then there are those unsaid words that you can see pending from his lips, and yet, they never come out. Every phrase Jeno starts is followed by a stutter and a quick shake of the head, other times his cheeks turn bright red as he zones out and you have to shake him out of whatever he is thinking, and then he goes back to act though and shrug it all off as if nothing happened.

You don’t get it, and every time you try to ask if something’s wrong, he acts surprised and tells you everything’s alright. You don’t buy it, but you feel that if something’s annoying him, he will come talk to you when he’s ready, so you leave him alone.

Jeno has a secret, and you have to find out in a way you don’t like.

You don’t like to roam around and stick your nose in things that aren’t yours, honestly, you hate doing so because you would hate if somebody did that with your things.

But you’re bored, laying on your bed, waiting for Jeno to come out of the shower, and your phone is somewhere in the living room, and you’re bored.

Picking up his phone to play some games is not an invasion of privacy, it’s the only thing you do with his phone, and Jeno is fine with it — he even lets you download those ugly, ads-filled, games that pop up in ads of other annoying games, he doesn’t get them, he hates the graphic of most of them, and he doesn’t understand how you can survive so many ads, but it’s fine, anything that makes you happy because you saved the King from drowning, cleaned a hotel room or built a pretty land.   

You would’ve minded your business if it wasn’t for one of those stupid games and ads, causing the app to crash and make you huff.

You’re pissed as you click the left bottom on the bottom of his screen to see all the apps and go back to your game, hoping it won’t die again, you’re so caught up that you almost miss the other window of Twitter and some other apps he used before.

But well, what you see is too shocking to make you go back to the business of your hotel.

You freeze, and a lump forms in your throat as you blink speechless with your mouth wide open. You feel the world could collapse under your feet but then you shake your head.

Dumb asshole, it’s fine. He might be bisexual, he’s not using you as a beard, right?

But you still stare at the video in shock, the only focus is on the naked man with a choker, moaning while the vibrator edges him, and the playful touches on his nipples make his hips rut.

And when Jeno comes out of the shower you’re still dumbfounded. Your eyes look up, and his smile drops as soon as he sees your face, it looks as if you saw a ghost, and he fears something has happened to you, but he barely manages to let out ‘are you ok?’ before you stop him.

“Are you gay?” You ask, nothing of the more rational questions you came up with before passing your lips.

He giggles nervously, eyes skimming you. “What?

You feel a lump in your throat and then reply. “What is this?” you lift the phone, video playing on mute, you can’t bear to hear the moans again. “Why are you watching porn and why are you watching porn focused on men? If you want to try something out you can tell me, but please, tell me I’m not your bearding girlfriend and this wasn’t all a lie.”

“A lie?” Jeno screams, feeling his heart pump hard in his chest. “It’s not and I’m not gay, I might be bi, but I never wanted to question much about it but... Wait, would it make you love me less?”

“No, God, no, but I don’t understand this,” you squeak, voice breaking a bit for the confusion you feel and also because his face dropped even more.

“It’s nothing,” Jeno says, abruptly taking the phone from your hand and closing the tab. His hands are shaking, he can’t believe he’s so fucking stupid, how could he not think about it? He always makes sure to close everything so that you can’t find out.

“Nothing?” You ask, eyes wide and a bit of sarcasm in your tone. “Why are you watching that kind of video...”

“I — I... It’s just something dumb the boys sent me,” he justifies, scratching his neck, but his eyes are everywhere except on yours.

You would believe him if only he wasn’t so evasive with his answers and body language, he’s a nerve wreck, he has to be hiding something. “Is it? Why would they do it?”

“I don’t know, you know they’re dumb,” he says and then pauses, biting his lips nervously before he gathers the courage to speak. “Did you watch it?”

You furrow, mumbling for a few seconds before replying as if it was obvious. “Yes.”

“All?”

“Yes, it’s not that long,” you reply without getting where he wants to go with these questions.  

Jeno nods and bites his lips, strategically avoiding your gaze.

“Jeno...” You call and he hesitantly raises his face. “Are you sure you’re not lying to me? If you like men and only them it’s fine, I would be heartbroken, but I want you to be happy, and I —”

“Stop it! It’s not that,” he snaps, face burning red when your eyes meet and you’re looking at him with curiosity. He feels doomed, you don’t even get it so how can you be into it?

“Oh.” You gasp. “Oh.” It clicks. Your mind replays the video, catching the details you missed, and you get it. He wants those things to be done to him. He doesn’t want a man; he wants you to do that to him.

Jeno stills, fearing the worst from you. “I’m not into it, that video just came up and I was curious,” he tries to save himself but it’s too late.

“No,” you stop him, “you are into it. Don’t lie to me,” your tone drops a bit, and you study his reaction, he trembles, and his face reddens even more. You’ve never seen him so embarrassed and vulnerable in all those years you’ve dated. Jeno, Lee Jeno, blushing bright red and stammering on his words right in front of your eyes. You’re dreaming, that must be it, maybe you have a fantasy you’re not aware of yet and this is your brain poking the thought into you.

But you shake your head, rub your eyes, and he’s still there.

“Jeno?” You call his name again when he gives you his back, quickly trying to find his clothes and make this less embarrassing, considering the only thing covering him is the white towel he put on before. “Look at me,” your voice comes out stern when he doesn’t listen to you and with a big step forward you have him trapped against the wall. Your fingers reach his chin, lifting his face resolutely.

But Jeno still doesn’t reply; you see his Adam’s apple move in his neck and you feel his breath get discontinued, but nothing comes from his mouth.

You have two choices; play the game he wants you to play or have a serious conversation about this. You’d rather go for the last one, you’re not so sure you’d be a master at doing what he wants you to do, but it seems like there’s no room for a decent talk right now.

You cup his chin, squeezing it enough that his lips pout, something he always does to you. His eyes widen, and his hand immediately wraps around your wrist, yet he doesn’t try to push you away.

“Tell me, Nono,” you coo, voice low and teasing, “do you want to be teased like that?”

He shakes his head, quick movements causing some still damp strands of hair to fall on his eyes, “No, no, I don’t.”

You scoff, shaking your head before leaning closer. “Why are you lying to me?”

He mumbles, struggling to talk for the embarrassment and the hold you have on his face. “I’m not,” he cries out.

“Oh, really?” You ask, letting his face go, making him lose his balance now that he can’t hold onto you. “Then you have nothing to hide, right?” He nods, biting his thumb and looking at you like a dog with his tail between his legs. “So, I guess you won’t mind if I took your phone right now, right?”

His eyes widen and his thumb falls from his lips. “Bu-but wh-why?”

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach in an exaggerated mocking move. “Bu-but wh-why?” you taunt him, imitating his high-pitched trembling voice. “Phone, now.”

Jeno’s not sure how to feel. This is what he wanted, right? And you don’t seem… mad. So why does he feel so embarrassed as he grabs the phone and hands it to you?

You smile and then open Twitter. You notice he has two accounts and when you scroll through the likes, the retweets, and more, you’re speechless. Well, now that you have him in front of you, so pliant, shaking, and red in the face, it’s not surprising anymore, but the Jeno you’re used to is not like this.

Men tied up and edged until they whimper and beg to come, rough face sitting, pegging videos, and captions about ‘good boys’ being used as sex toys by their ‘dominant mommy’, are all you see. You sigh and throw the phone on the bed carelessly.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno cries out, falling on his knees right in front of you. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I don’t need that, I swear I don’t, I can still be your usual boyfriend, I’ll fuck you so good, I promise I —”

You shut him up with a kiss, it’s rough and quick, enough to leave him surprised and, momentary, speechless. “Will you stop mumbling no-sense?”

“But I —”

“No, shh,” you say, thumb on his lips to keep him quiet. “Did I say anything? Did I look disappointed?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and he shakes his head. Honestly, he has no idea, he was too worried panicking to actually pay attention to your reaction. “Did I ask you to apologize? Do I look disgusted to you?”

“N-no,” he mumbles, but his eyes are still leaking tears.

“No, exactly,” you reassure. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, wrapping around the long hair at the nape before tugging and yanking his head back. “Now can we be serious and face this or do you want to keep crying at my feet?”

That shouldn’t make his dick twitch in the — now incredibly tight —towel but it does, still, he hopes you didn’t catch it, and nods swiftly.

“Good,” you smile slyly. You saw it, but that’s something you’re going to deal with later. “Stop lying and be honest with me. Do you want me to do this to you?” Your other hand moves down on his neck, creeping on his toned chest until it reaches his hard nipples, and when you brush one, he whimpers. Jeno tries to hide it, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together, but his body is reacting on its own, and it has never been more of an open book.

You never paid his body much attention, always letting him do anything to you, so this is… new, and interesting.

Your fingers play with the other one, rubbing against the sensitive tip and watching him struggle to keep it all in. “Sensitive much, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly, head falling down but you tug it back again, making him groan lowly.

“Head up,” you order, leaning down to come face to face, breath fanning against his, “and answer me. Do you like it when I play with your nipples?”

“Yeah — yeah, I like it,” he breathes out, leaning in to kiss your lips but you pull away.

“Ah, ah,” you click your tongue, shaking your head, “not yet, baby boy. You’ve been naughty, keeping important things from me. So now you’re going to earn it, alright?”

Jeno nods faster than he would want to, hips shaking on his heels in excitement like a dog wagging his tail.

You think it’s cute, he’s cute. And you still don’t quite know how to do this, how to be on the other side, but something inside of you makes you feel confident enough to think it’s worth giving a try. You like to be on the receiving end, so you have to give him what you usually like to receive. Also, you’ve encountered femdom content before, even liked it, never explored it much, but this might be fun.

“Words.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You raise a brow at the title, but you like the way it rolls from his lips, and it makes your body react, pussy clenching around nothing and stomach twisting in anticipation.

“Good boy,” you reward him. You love being called a good girl, so you think he’s going to like that too, and he does. His smile grows bigger, cheeks tinting red again, and most importantly, his dick reacts, twitching against the towel.

You think it’s time to set it free, so your hand grabs the hem and pulls the white clothes off him. Jeno whimpers, hands quickly going to cover his hard, throbbing dick — well, trying to, it’s too big to hide anything.

You laugh at his lame attempt, slapping his hands away. “Getting shy now? I’ve seen it and felt it countless times, don’t you agree? Or, I don’t know, have you forgotten? Maybe your brain stops working when you’re… like this,” you finish with a teasing look from his head to his bent knees, rubbing against the hard floor and becoming red.

Jeno shivers, shaking his head, but for some reason, he feels even more embarrassed. He’s not used to being in this position, and all the times he imagined to be here, he didn’t think you would be like this. You’re not much shorter than him, but you are, and now you’re towering over him, your gaze is piercing through his soul, and your voice is sultry like it has never been. He wanted this so badly but even if he fantasized for months, now, he doubts he can take you.

You sigh, rolling your head. “How many times do I have to say it? Words.”

Jeno frowns momentarily, he knows you’re having a ball because usually, he wants you to talk back to him even if he’s fucking the fourth orgasm out of you. But his ‘anger’ doesn’t last. He nods, and then apologizes. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, ma’am. You can see it.”

“Of course, I can,” you say, kneeling to his eye level, “it’s mine.” Two of your fingers brush on his hard cock, tracing the thick vein that run on the side, the one that rub your sensitive walls so good when he’s pounding into you.

He nods quickly, swallowing hard to don’t moan shamelessly, and then stutters on his words. “You-yours. You can do — do whatever you want.”

You smile widely and tilt your head because it’s not a dominant smile. You might like this a lot. You might like this more than you anticipated. There’s something thrilling about having him like this, in your hands, to play with, to tease, to edge, to push to the limit. He’s yours, like always, and yet, in a way he has never been.

“Tell me what you want me to do?” You order, those videos are not enough to give you the green light. You need to hear it from him, a bit because you’re lost on your path, but also because you need to hear him describe those things out loud and beg you to do that to him.

Jeno thinks his face might burn up in a second. Sure, if he ever dared to bring this up to you in a conversation, he would’ve had to explain it to you, but he would’ve been dressed, not hard, and his brain would’ve been functioning. Now he’s none of these things. Yet, he tries.

“I — I want you,” he starts, wetting his lips. but he fails to find the words. You want explicit things, he knows it, he can see it in your eyes burning up with desire, but he wants to be honest first, at least now that he has a bit of rationality left. “I want to be your good boy. I want to — to just give up control for once and let you do everything. I want you to control me, to move me around, to make me feel light, to make me feel like I’m… nothing but not really nothing, I want to…” he gulps, forcing himself to keep eye contact because he wants to be good, but it’s not easy. Nothing happened yet, and he’s already a victim of the electricity that’s running in the air. “I want to don’t think. I want you to fuck my brain out until I forget who I am, I want you to tell me what to do, to order it to me. But I also want to feel safe… taken care of.”

It takes you a while to metabolize everything he told you, especially the last part, and you put a reminder in your brain to discuss that later. But now you kiss him, finally giving him what he craves. You wanted to make him wait a bit longer, but you feel like he needs it. It seems that all of this has been bothering him more than you think, and he needs comfort.

“And I’m going to give it to you, if you trust me,” you say when you pull away, softly caressing his cheek with your other hand.

“I do, I trust you,” he replies, hips rubbing against your hand. You give him a quick, stern look and he stops, smile dropping.

“Get on the bed and you won’t have to hump my hand like a puppy in heat,” you order and he’s quickly — stumbling and almost falling — on his feet, walking to the bed.

Once he’s laying on the bed, you follow him, crawling on top of him, your legs trapping him down. You leave kisses on his neck, and as a response his head rolls back, leaving you more room to paint his skin with bites and kisses. And while he’s distracted with that, your hands reach his nipples. His hips buck up and he whimpers.

He’s so sensitive, you can’t believe you didn’t discover this before.

Your fingers play with his sensitive buds, at first, you just rub your fingers on them, but then you get more adventurous studying his reaction. Jeno likes it when you pinch them between two fingers, it makes him hiss and moan, while his hips grind against you. He also likes it when you roll them, low curses escaping his tortured pink lips.

After a while, you decide to pay attention to his whole chest. You won’t lie, you always loved his tits, but you appreciated them from afar, when they were wrapped under the skintight white shirt he loves to wear, or when they played hide and seek under his loose tank tops. When he fucks you, your hands always wander somewhere else, busy trying to hold onto his arms and back for dear life. But now, your hands caress his skin, cupping them as you try to hide a giggle and stay in your role — you definitely need to work on your dominance — and tease his nipples every now and then.

“Fuck,” Jeno bites his tongue, dick rutting against your body, droplets of white shamelessly dripping from his head, staining his length and abs.

“You’re so sensitive it’s almost pathetic,” you try out, testing the waters. You fear you might trigger him, but instead, he moans louder at your words, throwing his head back more, and his dick throbs. “I’m barely touching you and you’re already a mess. You dreamed this so long, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he whimpers, his hips still grinding against you, desperately chasing for release, but you pull away. “No, please,” his voice breaks and tears swell at the corner of his eyes. Jeno is so fucking pretty like this, you have to fight back the urge to reach for the phone and snap a picture.

“Just relax, and focus on the parts I’m touching,” you say, kissing him to shut his whines down. “Let me take care of you.”

And he would, he does, he wants you to take care of him. If only this wasn’t so embarrassing, whimpering and squirming just from having his nipples played with. He wants to hold it in, he can push back an orgasm, but all his good intentions fly out of the window when your mouth wraps around the left sensitive one and your fingers pinch and twist the other one.

It’s not his fault he’s so sensitive.

“Oh God,” he cries out through gritted teeth, knuckles going white for how hard his hands are clenching around the sheets. Jeno feels dizzy, your mouth sucks harshly on his sensitive spot, quickly moving from one side to the other, never leaving him with no stimulation, your fingers are just as swift at taking the place your lips left. “Please, please, fuck,” he begs, hips stuttering messily, and legs parting as his body jerks with pleasure.

“Be a good boy and come for me,” you mumble against his skin, eyes looking up at his. And that’s the last drop for him; the realization that you saw him — and made him — this weak, even the slight humiliation he feels with it.

Jeno comes undone. Long, whiny moans and whimpers slurring out of his plump lips as his body stills before breaking into violent trembles, it’s powerful and overwhelming, and it makes him cry. Mumbles of your name follow when you don’t stop, fingers and tongue moving quickly on his nipples.

“Please, please, stop,” he cries, trying to push you away, “can’t take it anymore.”

You pull away, snickering as you watch the cum drip down his body. His chest is heaving, and his body is slumped against the headboard.

“Was it good?”

Jeno nods, his movements are slow, and his eyelids are almost close, but he still makes out your face, and smiles shyly. “More,” he begs and then adds, “please. If you want to.”

You smile, he’s so polite. “Are you sure you can take more?”

“Yes, yes, I just — I needed to calm down,” he explains, running a hand through his hair that covered his eyes messily.

“Lay on the bed,” you order before standing up.

He follows your order, feeling his body ache as he gets in position, but it all fades in the background when his gaze falls on your body, watching you move to throw your clothes on the floor.

“So,” you’re on top of him, you got rid of your skirt and top, the only clothes on your body are your — drenched — panties and the bra, “what do you want me to do with you?”

Jeno thought the embarrassing part had passed, but, lord, if he was wrong. Because he’s not prepared in the slightest to ask you what he’s about to ask. You will break up with him, this will be the last straw.

“Pup?” Your voice brings him out of his delirium, and he coughs. “You with me?”

He nods, struggling to find the words. “Please,” he whines, “don’t — don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” You ask, a small frown forms on your forehead while your head lightly bends to the side to look at him. You almost look so innocent and harmless like this, but you’re not. You have all the power and control, and Jeno loves this and hates this at the same time. Maybe all of this is more mental than what he thought in the first place, or maybe he needs to relax, stop worrying so much, and just beg you. Beg you to fuck him, beg you to turn him into a brainless mess in the same way he had done in these past few months: pleading with his face smashed against a pillow to muffle his pathetic moans and his fist wrapped around his cock or his fingers inside of him, fooling himself that was you doing that to him.

“Please, fuck me,” he breaks, eyes panicking and looking around the room before you grab his face with a strong old on his chin.

“Say it again,” you order. Your face is relaxed now and the pout on your lips is rapidly swiped away by a sly smirk.  

“Please, please, fuck me, ma’am?” He asks, eyes softening as he looks into yours. He’s such a good boy, so obedient, so, so good. So, you’re about to give him what he wants, and what you want, grabbing the base of his hardening dick and teasing it against your pussy, moving the crotch of the panties to the side, but he surprises you.

“No,” Jeno cries, voice breaking again, “not like this. Not now.”

You stop, stilling and looking at him, eyes blinking as you try to understand what he means. “Not like this? And how do you want me to fuck you?”

“I — I,” he stutters, flashes of warmth heating his body up again, not that it ever really stopped, to be honest, it just keeps getting worse.

“You — you?” You urge, mocking him, mimicking his voice with a condescending tone.  

He frowns offended — and his dick throbs, but he won’t pay attention to that — but then goes on. “I want your — your fingers.”

“Oh,” you say, a smug grin on your face. “A handjob?” You know what he wants, you know where he wants it, but what you want, is to mess up with him.

“No, no,” he whines, shaking his head, reaching for your hand with his before you slap it away, making him groan in annoyance. “Please.”

“Please and no, are those the words that a good pup says?”

“No, miss, I’m sorry.”

“Good, then use your big boy words and tell me what you want. Details, or I won’t give it to you.”

Jeno swallows, inhaling deeply before confessing. “I want your fingers in my ass, please. I want you to fuck me with your fingers, miss.”

“Oh, now that’s clear,” you say, smiling tenderly and patting his head. He melts under your touch, and you keep a reminder to yourself to head pat him more often. “Good boy, telling me exactly what he needs.”

You get up to grab the lube from the drawer but when you open it, it’s not there. You scowl, scratching your head as you try to remember if you finished it and didn’t buy it again, but you don’t use it that often, so it can’t be.

“Where the hell —” you stop when, turning around, you see the blue bottle peeking from under the bed, you kneel to grab it and see that it’s badly closed. “You fucked yourself before?” You enquire, tilting your head, watching his face flush bright red even more, he tries to avoid your gaze, but you trot to him and force his face on you. “You were so desperate you couldn’t help but fuck yourself with your fingers?”

“I’m — I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to,” he justifies, throat dry and heart beating fast. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, he would’ve waited, he wouldn’t have done that, but he needed that, he was terrible at putting this fantasy behind and he needed a release. But he’s still you’re good boy, right? You’re not mad at him for this?

You scoff, clicking your tongue, crawling on the bed. “You didn’t mean to, sure… fucking yourself behind my back, pff,” you scoff. “Tell me, were you thinking of me? My fingers deep inside of you? My hand wrapped around the base of your cock?” Jeno nods eagerly as you pour lube on your fingertips. “Were you calling my name? Whimpering like the desperate puppy that you are? Calling me ma’am and miss, maybe even mommy when you fuck yourself good enough,” all throughout the talk your fingers slip deep inside of him, making him gasp and hold onto the sheets under him.

“Fuck,” he curses, not expecting you to push two fingers inside with no warning. But the surprise turns into bliss in the beat of an eye. Your fingers are slender, and yes, they’re not as long and thick as his are, but they are yours. And you’re so good at moving them inside of him, curling them up, moving them with a firm rhythm, reaching the bottom, and then pulling out, that he has nothing to complain about. “Feels so good,” he somehow manages to let you know. You think it’s cute, his voice doesn’t sound like the usual, it’s whiny, trembling, and full of desperation. His eyes are watery, and you think the red on his cheeks won’t disappear soon.

Jeno is lost in the pleasure, thinking he has never felt better, he’s almost relaxed, lulling in the sensation that sends sparks down his spine. But you want to give him more and your other hand folds his balls, making him hiss and shaking him out of that haze.

“It’s alright, baby boy,” you reassure him, but he’s not sure. Especially when you spit on his dick, adding to the mess of his cum, and run your hand on his length. He wishes you would keep doing this, but instead, you torture him; while your fingers work him open, your hand focuses on his frenulum, massaging his most sensitive spot until he’s a crying and trembling mess again.

“No, no,” he whines when your lips start kissing his leaking tip. “Sensitive — I’m…” his voice breaks and dies in his throat when your lips wrap around it. He has you everywhere and he’s not used to this. He’s not used to feeling so much and giving so little — in his mind, to give you nothing, but to you, he’s giving you a lot. This vulnerable side of him is much more than anything else. “I — I can touch you, I can —”

You shut him up with a slap on his thigh. “You can lay there and take it,” you say firmly but without stopping your movements.

He nods quickly, lips pressed in a thin line, but the pleasure is so big that his moans and whimpers just rumble in his chest.

“Moan, Jeno,” you call him out. “I want to hear you moan for me.”

“But —”

“But?” You scold, glaring at him and stilling your fingers inside him. “Are you going to talk back to me and tell me what to do?” He shakes his head quickly, mumbling apologizes. “I think so, do you want to be my good boy?”

“Yes, yes, please,” he cries, hips bucking up, at first you think he’s doing that to feel your fingers but he’s just that desperate. He truly acts like a puppy too excited to be your good boy to even think straight, his body moving on its own. If he had a tail, he would wiggle it like crazy.

“You want to be my good pup?” You ask again, your fingers pull out and then push in, dragging a low gasp from his lips.

“Yes, I want to. Want to be your good puppy, please.”

“Then do what I tell you to do,” you remind him, your hands go back to his cock, throbbing on his abs and leaking pre-cum. It’s almost… funny how big he is —body and dick— and how helpless and powerless he looks, begging for attention as if he couldn’t just take it from you, ordering you, fucking you. But he lays there, pathetically drooling on the pillow, while his dick drips on his stomach and his ass clenches around your two fingers.

His sounds are like music to your ears, and the vision in front of your eyes makes your pussy drool more, you can’t believe you’re so turned on when fifteen minutes ago you were almost throwing a tantrum for this. But Jeno looks like the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you wonder if he feels this way when it’s the other way around. All you know is that you’re mesmerized, eyes stuck where your bodies connect, his hole fluttering around you, the lube squelching in and out, and his toned, strong legs spread open just for you. Then they move up, the way his dick is throbbing in your hand and spills pre-cum, his chest rising fast, his hands clenched around the sheets. And his face, his eyes are closed but you know they’re rolled back behind his eyelids, his lips are swollen and dark pink, parted open to fill the room with the most desperate whines, his hair is a mess again, scattered around the pillow and his forehead.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whines, lifting his hips from the mattress when you hit him deeper and your hand starts moving faster on him. “Feels good, feels so good, you’re so good, you’re — you’re perfect, I love you, I love you,” he cries out, head rolled back as he lets the pleasure rush through his body.

You smirk at his words, the desperation and devotion behind his voice making shivers run down your spine. “Are you going to come?” You ask, already knowing the answer, watching him nod quickly. “Yeah? Will you be a good boy and come from my fingers only?” Your hand leaves his dick, eliciting a disappointed noise from him, but his breath gets cut off when you add another finger inside of him.

“Please,” he cries, the stretch of the three fingers making his hips move even more from the mattress, only to stop when your hand, flat on his stomach, keeps him pinned down.

“Stop squirming, or I won’t make you come and keep edging you until you pass out.”

It should be a threat, but it doesn’t even sound so bad to him, but not now, maybe one day, now he wants you, and wants to come as soon as possible. So, his hips still, the nervous twitching passing down to his leg but it’s fine, it doesn’t get in the way.

“Good boy,” you praise, patting his head, and making him smile. “Be even a better boy and come for me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice before his orgasm erupts, his body shakes before stilling completely, spurts of white spilling on his stomach, even reaching the sheets as his cock throbs in release and his hole flutters around your three fingers that are still pumping in and out at a fast speed. Slurs of curses roll from his tongue, and so does your name, while his chest rises fast before his body slumps against the mattress.

“Please, please, stop,” he cries out, feeling overstimulated.

You listen, pulling your fingers out and cleaning them on his thigh before leaning forward to kiss him.

“Want you, mommy, please,” he pleads, tears rolling down his temple while his hands look for the warmth of your body. “Please, fuck me, need to feel you.”

“Calm down,” you say, giggling at his cuteness and eagerness and get rid of your panties, throwing them behind with no care, and then follows the bra.

Jeno feels less embarrassed now that you’re exposed too, and gets lost in your body for a few seconds before he bites back a moan when your warm and wet skin makes contact with him. “I — I can fuck you, I can make you feel good, too,” he promises. “Be your good boy and fu–fuck you well.”

You smile tenderly, teasing him as you grind your hips rubbing your pussy on his dick that’s resting on his stomach. “Oh, I know you can.”

“Please, please,” Jeno cries out more. His dick is incredibly sensitive, it’s painfully aching, begging to be wrapped by something after all this teasing. You barely paid it any attention this whole time. “Let me be your good boy, use me,” his voice breaks and he almost chokes on his words as his pleading eyes stare at you for mercy. “Use my — use my cock as you please. Use me like your toy,” he says, “your good toy.”

It almost breaks your heart; he needs validation so badly and you feel genuinely bad for never noticing this before. You just thought he was always so strong and confident; you didn’t think he needed reassurance so much.

“Here, pup,” you say, sinking into him.

Jeno’s head rolls back, his hands clasping around your waist, but his hold, even if it’s strong, is different from all the other times before.

“Fuck, mommy, feel so good.” The way your warm walls wrap around him send him straight to heaven, you’re wet and fit perfectly around him.

“Yeah, you too, baby. You feel so good,” you curse through gritted teeth. He might be a mess underneath you, whimpering, crying, and begging, but that doesn’t make his cock shrink. Jeno’s big, and you should be used to it by now, but somehow it still feels like it splits you open every time.

“Please, fuck me!” Jeno laments loudly, bouncing his hips against yours, but a stern look from you makes him stop and apologize, “So-sorry, fuck me, please?” This time his voice is soft and polite, a desperate edge but with no eagerness behind — yes, there is, but he tries hard not to show it.

“Oh, fuck,” he screams when you lift your body up and slam back into him. You’re a lazy rider usually, and to be more honest, you’re just never a rider, 90% of the time riding his dick is a punishment to make you work for it, but now… well, you kept your skills well stored in. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he whimpers, hands clenching hard around your waist until his knuckles go white.

“What? You wanted me to fuck you so badly, and now? Bit more than you can chew? Is this too much for you, pretty boy? You can’t take it?”

Jeno shakes his head. “No, no I can, ma’am, I can,” he whimpers, biting his lips harshly.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” you hum in satisfaction. Your hands fall at the sides of his head, your smaller body somehow still hovers over him and makes him feel smaller than ever. Your intense stare pins him to the mattress even more, making him shiver. “Give me your hands,” you order, but Jeno doesn’t listen — he doesn’t even hear, too lost in you to pay attention to your voice. “God,” you huff, rolling your eyes back, “I really have to do everything on my own because you’re just that dumb.” You forcefully grab his wrists, pushing his arms over his head and keeping them locked against the bed.

“No, I’m — I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you weren’t,” you mock, stilling before starting to pick up the pace again, “you weren’t listening ‘cause you can only focus on how good I’m making you feel, right? Stupid, dumb puppy can only think about his pleasure.”

“No, no, please, forgive me,” he begs, tears streaking down his face, and words coming out between gags and moans.  

“Can you fuck back into me? Or are you too fucked out to do that?”

“No, no, I can. I’ll be good, I’ll be good for you, miss,” he promises, lifting his hips to meet you halfway, but his body feels so heavy and his brain is mush, unable to send signals to his muscles.

Your head rolls back and your hands wrap tighter around his wrists, you find yourself grinding against him, rubbing your clit every time you bottom all the way down. But Jeno’s thrusts are sloppy and messy, he’s not even that bad when he’s about to come. “Stupid puppy,” you taunt, slapping his ass. “Can’t even fuck me after all the pleasure I gave you.”

Jeno sobs, literally, loud cries coming from the back of his throat making him almost choke, and you’re about to stop everything in worry before you realize that’s not because you went too far — partially, maybe, he’s not really happy to be said he’s bad — but because he’s close again and he loves the way you talk down to him and slap him.

“Are you coming again?” You ask in utter surprise because you can’t believe it.

But he shakes his head, he’s fighting against himself to hold it back, and for the sake of having at least an orgasm too, you stop your movements.

“I won’t — won’t come,” he mumbles, lips quivering. “Can’t you… can’t you just use me?” he wails. “Please, I’m too tired. Just… use me like a…” The last words are a slur lower than a whisper, and his head turned to the side doesn’t help you hearing what he said.

You tilt your head to the side, cupping his chin to force him to look at you. “Repeat loud and clear if you don’t want to regret it.”

Jeno gulps, nodding vigorously, but his voice still shakes, and his cheeks burn red again as he repeats. “Use me like a dildo, please.”

“Oh… so, this is how you want to be good to me?” You ask, grinding your hips against him, the stimulation is bare for you but so much for him that you trigger whines and whimpers out of him.

“But it will feel good, even if I don’t move, you know it,” he tries to reason, pleading with his glossy eyes. “I can eat you out after, or — or now, whatever you please, miss.”

“Whatever I please, uhm?” You ask, grinning.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do whatever you want.”

You smile, caressing his face, smearing the wet mess around before your hand pats his head. “You’re lucky I want you exactly like this, like a toy.” You start fucking him with no warning, and a gasp rips from his vocal cords before he starts moaning again.

His eyes roll back at each of your hard thrusts, and you see his hands itch because he can’t touch you, but you don’t loosen the hold on him. You feel strong, a kind of power you didn’t even know you had in you, and you don’t want this to stop.

Jeno’s entire body trembles when your hand wraps around his neck, squeezing just enough to dim the flow of air in his lungs. It’s hot but unexpected, just like it’s unexpected that he almost comes on the spot.

“Oh, oh,” you hum in delight, the corner of your lips lifting as you stare at him. “You like it…” Jeno tries to deny but you can read his body; you felt his dick throb inside of you, his eyes flicker to you in light panic before rolling in his skull again, and his breath falter. “Don’t deny it, it wouldn’t be the most pathetic thing you get off to,” you mock, making him blush again. “It’s alright, you can be my naughty boy, I won’t judge.”

He can only hum, and now that you look better in his eyes, you see there’s something completely different behind them. He’s in a completely different headspace, and you fear he won’t last much longer.

It’s the same for you, the thrill and adrenaline can only push you so far, you’re not used to this, bouncing your hips harshly on his cock and having control, your thighs are starting to scream, and your brain doesn’t want to pay them attention but you both know you’re both at the finish line for this first time. Not to add, you’re in desperate need of an orgasm.

“Ti-tight,” Jeno gasps when your hold on his neck loosens enough to let him breathe in normally again, just the time that he can take a few breaths before it fastens again, it’s not too tight, it’s your first time, you don’t want to end with him passed out on the floor, but it’s enough to do its job.

“Yeah? Too tight for you? Can’t take it?”

He moves his head randomly, frenetic movements as he moves his lips to talk, useless. Your cunt is sucking away every coherent thought in his mind, the only thing filling his brain: you and the need to release.

“Don’t talk, don’t need it. I know you’re too sensitive, wanted me so much only to shake underneath me because I’m fucking you too well. Can’t even form a coherent thought in that stupid, little brain of yours, can you?”

He shakes his head, tears streaming down, but you kiss them — lick them — away.

“It’s alright, I don’t want you to think. I like it when your brain is empty. Your just my pretty boy, right? Pretty, good boy that let’s mommy fuck him?”

His nods are eager, and without even realizing his tongue lolls out. You pout at the view, patting his head when you let go of his neck, making him breathe. “Good pup. Just look pretty for me.”

“Pre-pretty,” he whimpers before a fucked-out smile paints his face.

“Yes, baby, you are,” you kiss his lips, petting his hair another time.

“Co-come, wanna come, please. Let me — let me come, ma’am,” he cries out when he has enough air in his lungs and sense in his brain. “Be-begging. I’m beg — mmph,” his words die in his mouth and his eyes squeeze tight when you voluntarily squeeze harder around him.

“Begging? Is this how a good boy begs?” You ask, looking at him sternly, not that it lasts long, because when his eyes open into yours, you fold.

“’M sorry, so-sorry,” he apologizes, “please, miss, let me come, let me come inside of you, let me fill you up. You’ll — you’ll feel good, I promise,” his words are all slurred out together, spit drips from his lips down to his chin and neck, and his body is burning up, if it didn’t mean to edge and denying an orgasm to yourself too, you would probably push him farther, curious to see how far he can go. But for now, it’s fine, he’s a good boy, he deserves it, and so do you.

“Please, please, please, ma’am.”

“You’ve been so good, baby. You can come.”

When you give him the green light, his body explodes, his hips even shyly chase the orgasm up against you, fucking back into you lazily. His head rolls back and as soon as your hand sets him free, his hands find your hips, holding them tight, hissing and groaning when you hold yourself up on his chest, nails digging into his skin as your body keeps bouncing up and down, riding your orgasms.

Your body collapses on his, exhausted and boneless just like his, and his arms wrap around it right away while he still sobs and whimpers in the crook of your neck.

“Shh, it’s alright, you’re alright,” you whisper in his ear while your hand caress his hair, wet again but not with water.

“Don’t — don’t pull out,” he whines when you lift your body, “nooo, don’t leave me.”

“I’m here,” you reassure him right away, carrying his body with yours so you lay on the side and can pull him in a hug. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he mumbles, hiding between your chest and neck. “Tha-thank you, mhh, thank you for —” his voice breaks and his sobs get a bit louder as he hides more in your hold.  

“Hey, it’s fine, take your time,” you say, still soothing him with circular movements on his back and soft rubs on his hair.

Jeno wants to talk, he has many things to say, damn, even an explanation to give to you, but he feels his body is heavy, he feels on a cloud, and you are the softness all over him, he feels safe, something he’s not used to feeling. You didn’t get mad at this, you won’t get mad if he falls asleep for a while, right? If he lulls in this sense of comfort and the aftermaths of what happened.

And almost as if you read his mind… “You can sleep if you want,” you say, kissing his forehead gently and rubbing his nape.

And he has no strength to reply as his body falls into a deep sleep.  

When he wakes up, he’s not naked anymore, a big white shirt is around his body, covering just enough so he’s not completely exposed. The mattress is stripped from the dirty sheets and there’s a glass of water on the bedside table, but you’re not next to him.

Jeno almost panics, feeling the post-nut clarity made you run away scared and disgusted, but then the door opens, and you’re there. And it’s the same you he loves deeply. He can breathe again.

“Oh, hi, babe,” you greet with a big smile. You’re holding something in your hands and you’re wearing one of his shirts. “Feeling better?”

Jeno gulps, nodding and smiling at you, words are hard to find.

“Still too fucked out to talk?” You joke, slumping on the bed next to him, handing him the package of his favorite snacks. “Figured you needed some sugar after all that whimpering and squirming.”

“Oh, please, shut up,” he says, hiding his red face behind his hands.

“Hey, you were cute,” you say, grabbing his hands to move them out of the way. “I — I liked it. Did you?”

He nods quickly, okay maybe he’s still a little into that headspace.

You smile and then pout. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it. I’m always so loud and open about everything I want to try and… it never crossed my mind you might have different needs. I don’t know if you’re hiding anything else, but you can talk to me about everything. I love you and even if I might not be into something I won’t let it be the reason for a break-up, or a fight, or worse, making fun of you,” you say, grabbing his hands. “We can always try and then see the outcome. I mean, all that dominance before was improvisation, I was nervous as fuck too, I just tried to act like you usually do, tell me I was good,” you say, scrunching your face as you wait for his opinion.

Jeno laughs, it’s a genuine laugh, and you can almost see the weight being lifted off his chest. You still feel guilty for not making it feel like you could be a safe place for him, but it’s over now.

“You were really good,” he reassures you. “And… yes, I was a bit afraid of your reaction, but it was also something that had to do with myself. I’m — I’ve always been the strong one since I was a kid and then growing up it also turned into being this big ass man with muscles, so the pressure didn’t help.”

You nod in understanding. It makes you feel a bit less guilty, but you feel like there’s something else. “Is this all?”

“I also always have to be confident, but… I get insecure. I just feel like people are so used to me never making mistakes that they don’t even see my struggles or how hard I work for things, so all my hard work goes unnoticed. But I… I want to be… praised, I want to be told I’m doing good, I want people to tell me they’re proud of me.”

You cup his cheek gently and then kiss his nose, making him giggle. “I’m so proud of you, I tell you that, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do, you’re the only one,” he says, leg bouncing nervously as he tries to find the words. But you’re holding his hand, rubbing circles on his palm and that’s calming him down a bit, or maybe not because he feels like he’s about to cry again.

“Hey,” you caress his chin and then rub your thumb on his cheek, your touch is soft, and his brain shuts off once again. It’s like he’s taking back all the wasted time he had to act tough and don’t melt in your touch. “I’m here, alright? Take your time.”  

Jeno nods, small hums slipping out of his lips before he finds the courage to talk. “I don’t know, sometimes I just… I want to feel small. And I want to be the one getting cuddled and petted, and just taken care of. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love doing that for you, but… I always see you being so carefree when you’re with me and sometimes I get… so, so jealous because you can… you can loosen up, turn your brain off and no one will judge you. But if I do it, if I get… vulnerable in your hands, I don’t know what people will say.”

You caress his cheek before your hand runs in his hair, not only because it’s covering his handsome face again, but also because you learned he likes it a lot, and as expected, he smiles. “Do people need to know?”

He tilts his head and furrows in confusion. “They don’t?”

“I doubt people care about our sexual life, or what we do in our home. So, this can be our secret, at least until you’ll feel comfortable enough to let loose even outside of these walls. If you’ll share this with me, it will be less heavy, right?”

Jeno nods, smiling and pushing back tears.

“Hey, crybaby today, aren’t you? Come here,” you say, pulling him into a hug. He holds you tight, still afraid you might slip from his hold, and breathes deep your scent.

When you pull away, Jeno’s looking into your eyes and you hum to signal him he can talk.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. Seriously, you made me feel safe and not judged, it means the world to me.”

“It’s the way you make me feel always, I’m glad you could feel that way too. And I proved I can protect you even if I don’t have all your muscles,” you joke, lifting your arm and flexing your not-trained bicep, making him laugh. “But seriously, I would never judge you, and I really love this version of you, so, unleash it more often.”

Jeno smiles widely, his eyes turning up in his usual half-moons, and then he lays on the bed, tapping the space next to him. You beam and crawl next to him, pulling him closer again, his head rests on your chest while your hands caress his hair and you just relax in the silence of the house.

“I love you,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head, his hair tickling you for a second. “And I’ll love every version of you, in any universe.”

Jeno still has a secret, but luckily, he has you to share it with.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @rbf-aceu ; @shiningnono ; @jaeminsbebu | general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[xxsabitoxx]

Gojo Satoru NSFW A-Z

Part of my 20k follower celebration (past due)

Warnings: if it isn’t abundantly clear, this is smut :)

A/N: in honor of hitting 20k followers a while back, I’m going to be posting 10 NSFW alphabets for JJK men — scheduled post 4 :)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Satoru is a mix between affectionate and exhausted. He’ll shower you in kisses and soft praises while yawning, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. He’ll mumble something about cleaning up after a nap, even if you’re squirming because you’re sticky he’ll assure you that after his nap, he’ll clean you up. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Satoru loves your thighs. He honestly loves every part of you but something about your thighs just draws him in. He loves to lay on them, squeeze them, hold them, feel the straddling his face… they’re just so soft. He can’t get enough. 

Satoru is pretty proud of his hands. He enjoys the way you compliment them, the way they feel slotted in your own. He loves the way they make you squirm and whine, he loves it. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Satoru can be a bit of a pervert, he has a fascination with cum. He’s very partial to coming inside of you or at least on your sex. Something about the sight of his pearly cum covering you or leaking out of your entrance drives him absolutely insane. Satoru is also rather fascinated by his cum staining your underwear, especially after a quickie. He’ll see his own release dripping out of you and hike your underwear back up before you can clean yourself. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Satoru is a panty sniffer and he tries to be sneaky about it. He’ll find your used underwear in the hamper and use them to get off, sniffing them while tugging his cock or using them to aid jerking off. What he doesn’t realize is you purposely leave your underwear around for him to “find”. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Satoru has a good amount of experience, enough to know what he is doing. But he can also argue that his consumption of porn videos and raunchy hentai aided his abilities. He’s a hands-on learner so it’s not surprising that he got a hang of things pretty quick. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Satoru enjoys just about anything but he likes positions where he can be really – and I mean almost suffocatingly – close to you. Mating press, missionary, spooning, cock-warming, etc. Anything where he can fucking squeeze you and keep you from getting away. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Satoru is fairly serious but that doesn’t mean he won’t make sly comments or even joke with you a bit. He adjusts his own “humor” to what you like. He wants you to be comfortable so if you seem to relax more when he jokes around and talks to you a lot while fucking, he’ll do it. But he’s also capable of keeping the talking to a minimum, letting his body do the work while praising you endlessly. Though if one of you fumbles around a bit, he will not hesitate to chuckle. He thinks its really cute so don’t take offense. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Satoru’s hair down there matches the hair on his head, he rather likes that so it’s very rare that he’ll shave or wax it bald. Though, again, if you request him to, he’ll do it. Satoru maintains himself very well, cleaning himself every day and trimming every 1-2 weeks. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Satoru can be disgustingly romantic when fucking you, especially when he’d close to coming. He tends to blabber a bit, telling you how perfect you are, how much he adores you and needs you, that he loves you. He means every word of it too. He’s always down for less serious, playful sex, but he’ll still make sure to let you know how much you mean to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

1-3 times a week depending on his schedule and how long he’s away from you. He’s not shy about it, taking time out of his busy day to get off when he absolutely needs to. He claims it clears his head, sometimes he really can’t focus if he’s too worked up. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Satoru really enjoys praising (both giving and receiving). Truthfully, he’s really into bondage and shibari but he can get shy about it. He just likes the idea of restraining and being restrained. He supposes it can count as a kink, but he really likes fucking you while you wear his blindfold or eye wraps. He finds it hot, especially since you can’t see what's coming next. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Satoru knows himself and his body well enough to know he will knock out after sex 9/10 times. His favorite places to fuck you are all within your own home… and within range of your bed. He loves to fuck you on a bed of course, but he also enjoys just about any surface of your home. He even made it a little game once you moved in together, keeping mental notes of what rooms he had fucked you in and what rooms he still needed to. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He feels a bit basic for this, but cute clothing and cute lingerie really does it for him. He enjoys when you dress up, maybe wear something sexier, but he’s very drawn to the pastels and laces on the various lingerie you like to buy. Sometimes it’s just as easy as batting your eyelashes for him and Satoru will find his cock twitching to life. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will NEVER force you to do anything, but he is also willing to try just about anything you desire. Satoru draws the line at slapping and intentionally hurting. Even if you beg him to hit you, the most he’ll offer is a spank on your ass or chest but he’ll never slap your face. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Satoru is addicted to you going down on him. This man lives for blow jobs and he is not ashamed to admit that. He also adores going down on you, considering himself very skilled in that aspect. But fuck does he love it when you suck him off. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the mood and your preferences. Satoru will tailor your sex excursions to fit your needs perfectly while still taking himself into consideration. Naturally, Satoru falls into the rough category with his hips moving quicker than he can handle sometimes.  

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Satoru is down for a quickie so long as you promise him caffeine or sweets after. I’m serious when I say this man will pass the fuck out after he blows his load. He prefers taking his time, not having to worry about being late for an event or being walked in on. Though he never really cared in the first place, people can wait on him. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Satoru will try anything at least once. He’s not shy with experimenting and isn’t afraid of risks. He understands that bodily functions can and will occur while trying different things (such as anal or pegging for example) and he understands things can… go down. But he’s fine with that. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Penetration wise, Satoru is a one and done kind of guy but he can push two or three if he’s really worked up (both hormone wise and adrenaline wise). When inside of you, Satoru can last between 5-8 minutes. But he makes sure to get you off as many times as you desire before getting himself off and calling it a night. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Satoru has no shame in using toys, both on himself and on you. He thinks they’re fun, and he finds no competition with them. Rather he uses them to enhance the experience instead of letting it do all the work. He’s very partial to the “magic wand” vibrator he bought for the two of you to use. Going as far as to buy a backup for when the original stops working. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Satoru can and will tease you until you are sobbing but he makes up for it by making you come as many times as you can handle. He’ll never leave you hanging, even as a punishment. He’d rather overstimulate you than leave you with nothing because he knows how frustrating that can feel… and he just wouldn’t feel right about it. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man does nothing to keep his voice down or his volume to a minimum. He is moaning, cursing, whining, whimpering, begging, he has no shame in any of the noises he makes for you. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Satoru has toyed with the idea of a threesome but would give you full reigns on who the addition would be. He doesn’t mind if it’s a man or a woman, he’s not picky. But the more he toys with the idea the more he realizes how possessive he is over you and can’t bring himself to approach the topic with you. He’s not self conscious, he just… he thinks nobody can satisfy you like he does so why waste their time for a mediocre experience.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

When soft he’s about 5 ½ inches (14cm). When it's hard, he’s just shy of 7 inches (around 18cm). He’s girthy, enough to need preparation before entering you but nothing too painful. He’s pretty straight, a slight curve to the right but it’s not very noticeable. He’s pale, a flushed pink tip with veins running along his shaft. He’s very pleased with his dick. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high but he can control it well. Satoru can get a bit cranky if he doesn’t have sex at the very least four times a week. Even then he considers that to be too little. But with a busy schedule he’s not always home so it can’t always work out in his favor. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Literally within thirty seconds. He’ll keep himself up for as long as it takes to get you comfortable and settled in his arms and even then he’s out within two minutes. 

[shadesofhogwarts]

(3) Poly!marauders x reader crashing out in a diner after a night out

You end up at a 24-hour diner that looks like it should’ve been condemned in the 80s. The sign’s flickering, the inside smells like burnt coffee and teenage regret, and the only other customer is a man arguing with a jukebox that isn’t even plugged in.

Naturally, you love it.

You’re crammed in a booth that was definitely meant for two people. Maybe three if they liked each other. Four is pushing it, but no one seems to care.

You’re sandwiched between James and Remus, one of Sirius’ legs wedged dangerously between yours under the table like he forgot how to sit normal. Your back is pressed to James' chest, and Remus has you half wrapped in his cardigan even though you’re still sweating from the party. Sirius is directly across from you, long fingers tapping the rim of a utensil mug like he’s waiting for someone to dare him into chaos.

You’re all a little too warm from dancing, a little too giddy from cheap drinks, a little too fond of each other to notice the grease-stained menus or flickering lights overhead.

It’s the kind of tired that feels good. Safe.

“So,” James says around a wide yawn, “what have we learned tonight?”

“That you’re a menace when you flirt,” you mumble into his shoulder. “And that social experiments don’t involve whispering in someone’s ear for three songs straight.”

James grins, smug. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Sirius groans dramatically, knocking his head back. “I told you it was going to backfire. I said, and I quote, ‘she’s gonna fall in love with you all over again, and then cry about it in the bathroom.’'

You make a face. “I did not cry.”

Remus slides a menu toward you. “Pick something greasy. You’ll thank me later.”

“I already thank you for everything,” you mumble, drunk and soft and stupidly in love.

You don’t mean to say it like that, but no one calls it out. Sirius just steals your menu and says, “We’ll get a little bit of everything. Can’t risk someone getting jealous over hash browns.”

Your milkshake arrives before the food– vanilla, with a swirl of strawberry and two maraschino cherries. There are four straws in it.

You blink. “Really?”

James shrugs. “We share everything.”

You feel that in your spine.

Sirius wipes a streak of whipped cream off your lip with his thumb and pops it into his mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You should’ve seen yourself on my shoulders. Arms up like you were Queen of the Lawn.”

You giggle. “I couldn’t find my shoes.”

“I know,” he says, eyes crinkling. “I’ve got grass stains on my shirt and your sandal in my pocket.”

“You kept it?” you laugh.

He shrugs. “Couldn’t let your glass slipper get away, could I?”

You’re all laughing too hard to breathe when the food comes– plates on plates of stuff you’ll regret in five hours. You eat curled into each other, stealing bites, dropping crumbs on laps, trading pancakes for toast and then back again.

And somewhere in the middle of it– while James is wiping syrup off Remus' sleeve with his thumb, and Sirius is chewing your straw for absolutely no reason, and Remus is offering you his pickles because “you always steal them anyway”– you feel it.

That thing.

The warmth under the laughter. The buzz under your skin. That terrifying, beautiful truth that you don’t want to sleep this off and forget it all in the morning.

You want this. Whatever this is.

Sirius catches your eye and smirks, like he knows what you're thinking. He always does.

"You've got that look again," he says, swirling the ice in his glass. "The one where you're about to overthink everything."

"Do not," you grumble, cheeks hot.

"You do," James agrees, pecking the top of your head. "But it's cute. All the best things start with a little panic."

Remus leans in, nose brushing your jaw. “Just let it happen, sweetheart.”

And so you do.

You finish your fries and steal the last bite of Sirius’ toast and let James feed you whipped cream off his fork just to see him blush about it after. You watch Remus doodle in the corner of a napkin and try not to cry when he writes your name with a tiny heart.

You laugh until your stomach aches and your throat hurts and your voice is hoarse.

And when you stumble out into the night, arms wrapped around each other, stomachs full and hearts lighter– it still doesn’t feel like enough.

But it’s a start.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: deserted by fate

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: arcane

rating: PG

length of fic: LONG. it’s long. but lots of flash back scenes and building of the relationship.

genre: angst / romance / fluff at the end

pairing: jayce x reader x viktor

summary: fate never favored a trio. fates favorite was always a duo. and she knew who fate would favor. she hated being right.

note: not beta read. proof read so many times the words blurred together and i deleted an entire section that i couldn’t get back and had to rewrite. over all though, it should be good!

tag list: @night-fall-moon

there was once three. a trio. two partners and their assistant.

three friends.

three…

three……

three………

but one was always forgotten.

—————————

the silence as war died down left an eerie rattling inside the ears of those who had survived. as they looked around to see the wreckage, some who were still marked with the iridescent galaxy that the Machine Herald had left on them, others, not a physical reminder in sight on their bodies. they didn’t need one though, as piltover sat in ruins. the blood of those who died stained the marble steps. colorful dye still stained the air from jinx and the firelights entrance. but she, the third, the spare, the left behind, stood in the middle of it, unsure whether to cry, scream or run to the scene in front of her.

where the machine herald- no- where viktor and jayce were immortalized in a blinding brilliant metal, jayce knelt with his hammer in his grasp and viktor’s hand perched along jayce’s forehead.

the tears, she realized, fell on their own. leaked out of her eyes and fell past her face but she felt none of that. numb completely as she stared at the hollow husks of the two men in front of her.

her mind repeating…

three…

three……

three………

there was to be three of them.

three creators and inventors of hextech. three researchers. three friends…

they told her that…

three… lovers…

there were three… supposed to be three…

she supposed though that destiny had always lended its hand to favor the duo over the trio.

—————————

“you know…” jayce trailed off as he sat next to viktor and pulled her legs over his lap. “many times in books, the trio never makes it. fate always favors a duo.” he said it with that joking grin, tempting fate. daring it to try to make good on its word. viktor had the decency to look at jayce disbelieving.

“why would you say that? tempt anything that would ever want to pull us apart?” he questioned, looking between jayce and her. jayce shrugged, looking sheepish.

“because they never could. we’re tied together. you guys go, i go.” he shrugged again. she looked at both of them and then down at the ground.

“fate would favor you both.” she whispered. their eyes widened.

“never say that miláček.” viktor ground out turning to her, side eying jayce as a ‘look what you’ve done’.

“yeah, i wasn’t serious, darling.” jayce said, bring her closer to him and viktor. “we’re in this together and we’ll always be.”

—————————

“we’re in this together…”

“we’ll always be…”

together…

together……

together………

—————————

she should have known that was a warning flag. the conversation they had. and they weren’t together. not now. she was right. fate had favored them, in some twisted sense of humor, divine intervention or not, fate had carved out a spot where both jayce and viktor could be together leaving her behind.

she was the one to pick up the pieces… she always had been, why would this be any different?

—————————

“viktor, please! it’s dangerous! you can’t be serious!” she yelled, her anxious anger causing her voice to bellow. his eyes sliced her down as he looked her way, the glare he had for her held nothing but contempt as she tried to stop him.

“while you may have your life ahead of you, i am on borrowed time miláček.” he rose his chin looking down at her as she had put her self between him and the hexcore. “now move out of my way. i will only ask once.”

the tears were hot as they streamed down her face and shook her head. his eyes widening at her disobedience. he took a step forward but before anything could happen, jayce walked in.

“what is happening?” he asked, setting his supplies down and slowly walking over to both of them. before viktor could open his mouth she was quick to explain.

“he was trying to add more of his blood to the hexcore. he’s already done it a few times and i refuse to let him do it again. why can’t you see it’s changing you viktor? you’re not the same. please!” she begged him, no longer looking at jayce but pleading with viktor to see reason.

eyes widening, jayce moved to step in front of her. “viktor, you can’t do that. we don’t know how it will react.”

“we’ll never know if we don’t try.” viktor ground out.

“not on you.” jayce said softly. “you’re too precious for us to loose.” this stopped viktor as it was almost like flicking on a light behind his eyes. he blinked and looked at jayce and then her.

“i-i am so sorry. oh… miláček… i am so so sorry…” he started to come forward, and stopped when she took a step back reactively. his eyes widened.

“darling, please. i’m sorry.” he begged, and she could never refuse him. neither her nor jayce could…

that had been the third time that viktor had tried to add more of his biology with the hexcore.

—————————

three…

three……

three………

three times… three people…

—————————

her feet felt cemented on the marble, watching the sun play off the statues of her lovers, standing in the blood of who knew how many. her first step felt like she was chained by stones under water, attempting to walk. her second was easier, but felt like getting your foot out of quicksand. the third felt easiest and carried the most momentum as she stumbled to them, running, her body finally falling, kneeling between them and resting on jayce’s back. three shallow breaths was all she was allowed before her sobs came in full force as she clutched the hand viktor had by his side and her arm wrapped around jayce’s neck,sobbing into what would be his left shoulder.

“you-you-you

you promised…

you promised……

you promised……… me.”

her cries bellowed out around the square below, drawing disgusted glances and pitying onlookers as they saw the hextech geniuses assistant, the third partner, the sole survivor… cry out in anguish. despair. heartbreak.

“i always told you fate favored you.” she whispered, sitting there with them until their figures were carted away. with instructions from her for them to be put in the lab that they worked in, which was somehow still standing.

—————————

being in the very same lab that both… viktor and jayce had spent so much time in, herself included, felt sickening. the lack of their presence ate at her, leaving her hollow and mauled in the tide of grief. everything was as it was. nothing had moved. it was as if it was a museum. a museum of them. their chairs at the farthest point of the room. jayce’s rolling chair and viktor’s rolling stool he used often. for a moment, the lab seemed to be lighter, golden light filtering in as jayce and viktor were huddled around a notebook, talking about some equation. their heads both whip to her and smiles grow on their faces, and when she blinks, the lab is darker, filled with the blue light of the setting sun and they are no where to be found.

she walked to the couch across the lab, her fingers grazing the fabric, as she picked it up and wrapped it around herself. it smelled like them…

“guys, please, stop! it’s cold!” she pouted as jayce held the blanket too high for her to reach, viktor doing nothing but egging it on.

“just jump up and get it, my love! you can do it!” his laugh ringing through the lab.

she pulled the blanket tighter, it wasn’t cold in the lab but she was cold. no, it wasn’t cold. her body felt like it was missing an integral part to function, and now that it had been stripped away she couldn’t rebalance. walking over to viktor’s desk she looked over all the plans that were still in tact, his desk almost exactly how he left it. hot tears welling in her eyes again as she saw his favorite mug, the one jayce got for him, sitting off to the right, long cold and molded over with his favorite tea still inside. her fingers brushed against the handle.

viktor took a sip of his tea as she watched standing next to him.

“can i try that?” she asked.

“sure.” he waved his hand at her. she took a sip and almost spit out the drink. “why is there alcohol in that damned tea?”

he turned to her and smiled, holding up a small bottle.

“you spiked it before i drank it?” her tone incredulous.

“can’t hold your liquor.” he asked as she glared at him. he got up still chuckling and grabbed the cup from her hand. “come. i’ll show you how to make the tea and we can try this cup together.” he motioned for her to follow him and she did.

she always followed him. would have followed both of them to the ends of the earth if they had let her. her jaw clenching as she tried to hold back more tears as she picked up on of his many notebooks. seeing a not that was stuck in there. she pulled it out realizing it was a small note she had given to him. it was just a little something she would do is leave notes on their desks as both viktor and jayce would always light up reading them. she opened viktor’s journal realizing it was his personal one, not looking at the entries but seeing that he had kept every single one of her notes. even taking some of the doodles she would make on their schematics and taping them in. she clutched the book to her chest and walked over to jayce’s desk.

looking at the photo of him and his mom was overwhelming and she set the photo down so she didn’t have to see it. didn’t want to be faced with the reality that more people were mourning these two as it felt like that could sweep her under the current and she was barely treading water currently. looking through his notes as well she saw underneath a few sheets of equations, the pen she got him. she grabbed it, smiling as tears came back. she had gotten this pen for him for some holiday and he had used it so much that the first refill in the pen ran out. he had no idea there were other refills.

“noooooo…” jayce whined as the sound of manic scribbling was heard. “no. no. no no no no no. what the-“

“language.” viktor stopped him, not looking up. a heavy sigh heaved from jayce as his head hit the desk.

“what’s wrong?” her voice rang out from the couch.

“the one you got me? it’s out of ink! and i can’t use it anymore!” jayce looked up, almost pouting.

“then get another one?” viktor said, turning to look at jayce like he lost his mind.

“no! this is the special pen. it was part of the gift you gave me last week! it’s special!” he says looking at her. her mouth trying to fight the smile and consequently the laugh that was threatening to bubble up. she quietly got up, went to her desk and pulled out a white box. holding it out to jayce at his desk she nodded at the box and he took it. viktor watching the whole interaction with an amused glint in his eyes.

“what is this?” jayce asked looking between them both.

“just open it, ya big baby.” she said, chuckling. he smiled at the comment and opened it, his eyes widening. thousands of refills were in the box for the pen. “i was going to give this to you later but i didn’t think you’d run that refill out of ink in a week.” she admitted. his eyes lit up as he quickly replaced the refill to the pen, without her even needing to demonstrate. he tested it on paper and when it started writing again, jayce looked at her like she hung the moon.

“thank you.” he whispered and pulled her to him, his head resting her stomach for a moment, inhaling and then lifting up and nodding to himself, trying to give the pen refill box back.

“just keep it.” she said as she fluffed his hair and walked by viktor doing the same, earning a disgruntled noise from viktor. “i fear that you’ll need them often.” jayce nodded and put them in the drawer on the right.

“when do i get a special pen that i can use?” viktor’s voice asked as he looked at her now settled back in on the couch.

“how about i get you one for your birthday?” she asked and he nodded, seemingly happy with that answer as he turned back again and got to work. her making a mental note to get another one of those pens the next day.

as she opened that same drawer, the refill box was there, open and had five left. she chuckled and held jayce’s pen in his hand. the realization hitting her, viktor wasn’t going to be here to celebrate his next birthday. she walked to her desk and took out the box, holding the complimentary pen. jayce’s was golden, similar to viktor’s eyes and also the gold in house talis colors. viktor’s pen was a deep emerald, similar to zaun’s colors, with the metal being a deeper golden color. holding their notebooks and pens in her hands felt haunting. neither would be here for their birthday’s… her birthday… the pain rose in the chest as she collapsed near her desk. her body shaking as she moved over to jayce and viktor’s side. near their desks. trying to be close to them. but how can you be close with a ghost?

———————

many whispers, glares and disgusted looks were weathered as she joined the crowd of those gathering to place names of loved ones written on parchment in the basket to be burned. she pulled her hood up further hoping to blend in as the feeling of everyone’s eyes on her was uncomfortable and magnified the hurt even more.

“i can’t believe you’re here.” a man said looking at her. she looked up at him, her eyes glazed over, darkness under her eyes from not sleeping.

“your fucking partners killed my wife… my son.” he yelled as he started towards her. enforcers restrained him.

one walks over to her, “do you know this man?” he asks her. she shakes her head. he gives her a second glance. “take the stairs up there, people are gathering there, smaller crowd.” he says before he leaves. the tears in her eyes threaten to fall as she looks up to the sky, silently thanking her partners, taking it as them intervening.

walking up the stairs feels similar to the day of the fighting. when she saw them. each step feels heavy. each step is a battle itself.

finally reaching the baskets she takes her slips of paper, jayce and viktors name written on three different slips of paper and places them together in three separate baskets. just in case someone saw them and decided to not let them be burned. a fourth stayed with her, in her pocket. she turns to leave and is stopped as ximena, jayce’s mother stands behind her. their eyes widen and ximena looks her over. the cloak she wears is black, with gold clasps. but that isn’t what draws jayce’s mother’s attention. it’s the pin on the cloak, a hammer, the talis house crest. jayce’s talis house crest.

“ximena, i-“ before anything else is said, she brings her into a hug, the feeling of loss settling in her chest like a weight at the acknowledgment of her presence from jayce’s mom.

“you have been so brave.” she whispers. at that her eyes fill with tears as she sobs into ximena’s shoulder. she smells like jayce did and it makes her sob harder.

“i miss him so much. so much. i miss them both, ximena.” she cries as ximena’s hands draw her head up and she looks at her, nodding.

“i know. i know you do. i do too.” she shows her paper she brought for the ceremony.

written in ximena’s handwriting is jayce and viktor’s name. the way she’s written them it reads viktor and jayce talis. which somehow makes her cry more at ximena’s paper, at the thought of marriage and a future that could no longer be a reality. until she sees her own name at the top. the note reads her name, viktor and jayce talis. looking up at ximena questioningly, ximena smiles knowingly.

“a part of you died that day too. i mourn that as well, my dear.” she nods, tears slipping from her eyes. the same eyes that used to look at her with love. jayce’s eyes. they always joked he had his momma’s eyes because he was a momma’s boy. now, it just hurt to see. to remember. she looked down at the ground. “and he was going to marry you both, i know he was.” ximena smiles sadly, as tears leak from her eyes, informing her thinking it a kindness. it only tears deeper at the hole they left in her. but that’s not ximena’s fault.

“i’m going up to the roof to watch everything.” announcing her leave.

“just be careful, mija.” ximena murmurs as she nods again and leaves.

—————————

watching the papers fly through the air like stars ascending to the sky was cathartic for some she imagined. that’s what jayce and viktor were, two stars, burning so bright and brilliant that she had no choice but to be attracted to their light. or maybe they were the sun and the moon, so opposite but complimentary and she was just one of the many stars in the sky that admired them. they being so magnetic that they brought her into their orbit, destroying her as they exploded, for celestial bodies that burn so bright only have so much time until they do explode and take everything with them.

a lighter in hand, she takes out the piece of paper she held onto, looking at how both her and ximena both put jayce and viktor talis. she grabs a pen from her pocket, her own pen, which became a force of habit to keep on her working with inventors and hesitated before writing her own name down and burning the slip. watching it rise with the rest. ximena was right. a part of her died that day too.

—————————

the issue when an inventor goes off on a ‘genocidal killing spree of the majority of humanity’ is it is very difficult to ensure that who they were before is not erased from memory. exactly what the piltover council moved to do, as its first order of business, once the halls were cleaned, the marble treated of the blood stains, the pillars resurrected and the dead buried. exactly why she walked to the council chambers with purpose and the speed of if hell hounds were on her ankles.

the erasure would happen over her dead body. she opened the door and was unnoticed as heard the council speaking.

“the council moves to strike viktor, hextech inventor and former academy’s dean’s assistant from any involvement with hextech. all credit will be solely to jayce talis of house talis. those in favor?” a voice floated through. she knew not who it was as she never paid much attention to the council. that was jayce and his doing. wanting to create a spectacle and make connections. one of the many things he was good at, even though deep down he hated it.

“i object.” her voice echoed as she walked into the room. the council turned towards her, many widening their eyes as they realized who she was. the room was empty except for the council members. intruding on a private meeting was something new.

“this is a closed council meeting. you should not be here.” the one at the head of the table threw out. her eye twitched, at his tone and his dismissal of her.

“and you should not be discussing mine and my partners project without me present councilor.” she said as she stepped up to where jayce’s seat was at the table and stood off the left. “there are members of the founding team for hextech still alive.”

“you were their assistant. you contributed nothing to the project.”

nothing…

nothing……

nothing……….

—————————

“you can’t let them get under your skin baby.” jayce murmured as she glared up at him.

“no, you never mention me and you hardly mention viktor when talking about hextech anymore. we have contributed as much as you have. how dare you try and erase us. what happened to partners?” she asked, thinly concealed venom in her voice.

“you know that’s not true. there are just times where-“ jayce didn’t finish his sentence.

“where councilor medarda has encouraged you to not say anything about us because viktor is from zaun and i am a poor piltoverian? i heard her talking to you three weeks ago jayce.” he had the decency to look ashamed.

“if you’re not going to include me, at the very least, ensure viktor is up there with your name. or will that ruin the “man of progress” image you’ve so carefully crafted?” snarling his title at him, she walked off, not letting him say anything else. she entered into the lab, sitting down and thankfully viktor was too absorbed in his notes to talk to her or observe she was upset. stewing was interrupted from a knock on the door hours later. expecting it to be jayce she opened the door not looking at who was there but when two finely dressed men came in and sat two very expensive looking boxes down and handed both her and viktor an envelope, then left, had you feeling dumbfounded.

“what is this?” viktor asked, his accent heavy with the lack of speaking for the past 4 hours.

“i don’t know.” was whispered from her as she walked toward the box and opened it. inside was the most gorgeous blue dress, looking as though it was made of the starry night sky itself. viktor, who had followed you gasped at seeing it. looking at her then the dress.

“that will be very beautiful on you. but where are you going?” he asked.

“where are we going?” she corrected pointing to his box, as his eyes widened. each of them slowly approaching his box like it would explode. he opened it, finding a suit and tie, matching her dress completely.

“what is going on?” viktor murmured as she looked down at the envelope in hand. she opened it, eyes scanning over the document.

“viktor, i think we’ve been invited to the inventors inaugural ball tonight.” her eyes not leaving the page.

“what?” his tone shocked and in disbelief until he saw his invitation as well. “jayce was to go to this tonight, why would we be invited?”

she shrugged, and flipped over the envelope. holding it up to viktor so he can see what was written on the back.

“NO CHOICE!” was written in all capitals and underlined three times, on both invitations. both knowing this must be important.

“we have an hour to get ready vik.” she looked at him and he sighed, resigned to his fate, knowing that there would not be a request of him if not absolutely important.

“best hop to it? don’t you always say?” pointing to the back where the washroom was. she smiled at his attempted imitation of her as they both started to get ready for the night.

——————///

a car picks both up, and thankfully both her and viktor are ready just in time for it do so. she fixes viktors tie in the car, admiring how the gold and blue in his suit compliments his eyes so well.

“you look so handsome.” whispered between the stillness that had settled into the back of the car. his hand reached up, cupping her cheek, his thumb trailing her lower lip.

“if i am handsome, then you are ethereal, miláček.” her responding smile was enough to convince him to kiss her. stopping outside the event plaza, both viktor and her exit the car, her helping viktor out, merely holding out a hand to ensure he was steady, which he reluctantly takes after side eyeing her. he never liked help, but she wasn’t taking the chance that he fall since the car parked so close to the sidewalk. then taking his left arm as you both slowly ascended inside. showing the invitations and then entering to the main ballroom, both looked around.

“i thought jayce would be here.” viktor said as he took two flutes of champagne off a tray passing by. handing one to her as she sipped it, humming.

“so did i…” her eyes squinting as she looked around, waiting for what felt like the other shoe to drop. it didn’t take long as mel medarda took the stage, introducing jayce. viktor looked and politely clapped, confusion evident on his face to his partner standing next to him. silence coming from her as she glared daggers straight at jayce. connecting the dots that this was an apology event. rolling her eyes, she downed the champagne and grabbed another one as they walked by. viktor glanced at her.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, as she sighed sipping her new flute.

“i’ll tell you later. we need to listen to the man of progress speak. i’m sure it’s important.” her smart ass getting the best of her as viktor side eyed her and then directed his eyes toward jayce.

jayce scanned the crowd, somewhat relaxing when he saw both his partners there.

“tonight, is a night of celebration, innovation and looking forward to progress!” he exclaimed, people cheering at that.

“we have been able to pave the way for faster travel, ease of trading leading to increased commerce opportunities for businesses in piltover all with the first hextech invention, the hexgates.” more cheers accompanied this as well as clapping. gripping onto viktors arm, she sighed.

“i have been honored to be referred to as the man of progress, but i do feel that it is not accurate.” there were now murmurs in the crowd at jayce’s words.

“as you see, there is not just one man of progress, there are two men of progress and one woman of progress.” gasps across the crowd flow. viktor looks at her and she up at him, confusion swimming in both your eyes.

“none of this would be possible with out my partners in hextech.” his hand reaching out as he read off both her and viktors names. claps and cheers coming from the crowd, slightly reserved as it was known in the inner circles who you both were. where you both came from. “we look forward to working harder than ever to bring you our next great invention, hextech travel. revolutionizing the way we can travel to different places, not just in piltover but in all of runeterra!” cheers erupt again. jayce waves and smiles as he gets off the stage and shakes a few hands, heading towards both his partners. both her and viktor look at him as he approaches you both, a bit sheepishly.

“mind if we talk outside?” jayce asks before either of them can speak, both she and viktor nodding and following him out.

“you were right.” his words directed at her.

“i mean, she normally is, but what is going on jayce?” viktor asks, as jayce sighs.

“we talked earlier today and i realized that i had been selfish. it is not just me working in hextech, it is both of you as well. you both should be credited with these inventions just as much as i am.” viktor frowned.

“i do not want to be in the spotlight.”

“you don’t have to be. i’ll keep making the speeches, talking to people, making deals from time to time. but from now on, people will know there are three founders of hextech.” jayce looked at both of his partners and she smiled up at him.

“you’ve not been selfish. i don’t think that’s the word. maybe, egotistical, inflated, big headed…” she trailed off a teasing smile on her face as viktor chuckled.

“thank you, jayce. i assume that you were the ones who got us these fancy outfits too?” viktor asked, after handing his cane to her to hold while fixing the lapel on jayce’s coat.

“had to make sure my partners matched with me.” jayce said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

the smile on her face threatened to split it. not happy for her own cause but ensuring viktor would forever be memorialized in connection with hextech.

“thank you, jayce.” she said, reaching up and kissing his cheek.

“thank you. i don’t know what i would do without you. without either of you.” jayce says looking at viktor as well.

—————————

“as jayce talis had stated, hextech was founded by three people, myself, jayce and viktor. erasing anyone from these works does a great disservice to their memory, legacy and the accuracy of our history.” she explained.

“‘a great disservice to their memory?’” one council member asks, disbelieving. “viktor, became a crazed man, creating himself into the machine herald and almost killed us all. people are scared. there must be something done!” this was met with a murmur of agreement.

“he almost killed us all!” another exclaims, upset and angry.

“you misunderstand me. i’m not asking for his flags to be flown around or even have a banner created of him for hextech. what i am saying is that on the schematics, the trademarks, the history of how the hexgates opened piltover, changed the trajectory of our city for good and created many new forms of technology infusing magic and science, that his name is not stricken from that. that his name is mentioned. he is explained. and at the end of the day our history explains why a child who had been part of chemical warfare between zaun and piltover, who came to piltover attempting to have a better life, eventually fell victim to the very disease he had contracted due to the chemicals piltover put in the air in zaun, but still tried to save others from his same fate.” the councils eyes widened. i turn to my left, seeing sevika present as the new council member for the undercity, recognizing her from a few run ins in the past when traveling down to the undercity for parts.

“this disease plagued zaun for years, is that not right?” you asked her.

“the gray? yeah. made people sick, making them dependent on shimmer, causing an endless loop of addiction. not to mention the limbs you can loose from it all too.” her gruff voice rang through the chamber.

council members looked at others across the table, next to them…

“i vote in favor of keeping all three names for the hextech founders accurate, for history, tradmarks and any correspondence. any marketing will just be focused on hextech itself. all those in favor?” sevika spoke, looking at her i slightly nod my head in thanks, my shoulders tight as i see across the table, one by one the council votes yes to the proposed idea, except three. majority rule though.

“you got what you want…. happy now?” a gruff voice of a new council member asked above all the chatter.

“very much so.” she said, ensuring everything was taken care i are of, before leaving.

—————————

the metal statues… if you could even call them that, are set up in a garden near the lab. making sure it had lilies, roses and poppy’s in there. three flowers and so much fauna, for the founders of hextech. at the center was jayce and viktor. she sat in the garden for hours on end, working on different things, talking to them or even just sleeping. finding that if she was sleeping and touching at least one of them, the nightmares weren’t so unbearable. she still wore the sleep deprived eye bags around like they were the new latest fashion.

after readjusting the plans for hextech, placing in safeguards and ensuring that the plans could be executed, she began to build a larger team. a team of great academy scientists, in engineering, biology, medicine…

with a collaborative foundation, the scientists with her at the helm drove forth 15 years of unprecedented and revolutionary progress. creating safe water ways for zaun and air with no pollution. creating hextech travel for all of runeterra. medical devices to help those needing mobility aides, in addition to cures to diseases that were listed as incurable.

she visited the garden the day they had found the cure to the disease the gray had created in the zaunite residents of the undercity.

“i’ve been working on hextech so much i’ve forgotten to visit. i’m sorry.” she whispers, setting down sunflowers for both men. “reminds me of you both.” her laugh is humorless and flat sounding.

“but i have some news. our team was able to do it. we found a cure for your disease viktor. those who are still afflicted with it will be able to be treated for it. they won’t have to suffer anymore.” she smiled and then looked up at viktors face, the machine heralds face. her hand reached up, caressing his cheek. “i’m just so sorry i couldn’t find it while you were alive. i wish i had. how our lives could have been different…”

“it’s so sad, because it’s been so long, vik.” she looked from his face and then back up to what his face was when he died. “it’s so hard to remember what you looked like. this wasn’t who you were. and you hated photos. thank god jayce sketched you. but it’s still not enough. and i fight so hard to make sure you are remembered.”

sitting down at his feet next to jayce, she sighed. “that both of you are.” she slumped over, looking at the ground. “i went to a wedding the other day. one of our scientists got married to their partners. one’s an architect, the other owns the bakery down the street. they remind me so much of us. it was so hard to be there, if i’m honest, because my mind wouldn’t quiet the ‘what ifs’.” the tears felt foreign to her as they slipped silently down her cheeks. she hadn’t cried since that day. the very day she-

“we would have worn house talis colors don’t worry. viktor would have looked dashing in them. gold always complimented your eyes so well vik. and the colors always seemed to just fit you jayce.” her hands fiddled with her own garment… crafted with house talis colors and zaunite colors, representing the partners who still laid claim to her life. she sighed again.

“i got back from the doctor the other day. my test results came back. i have three months to wrap everything up before the reaper catches up to me. ironic that it’s three months. the irony is not lost on me.” she chuckled humorously.

“i’ll be appointing leads for the research, people who can develop hextech since i’ll be six feet under. i think they can handle it though. they’ve made incredible strides.” she looked over at jayce, then up at viktor.

“i hope you’re both not so lost that i can’t find you or see you in the after life. i curse you both to be tied to me forever.” she jokingly laughed and got up, dusting off her pants.

“bye for now, my loves.”

—————————

fate was listening. it always is listening. will always listen.

—————————

“please… just take me to the garden.” she begged. looking up at the scientist who led the medical team and became a friend to her as she battled her illness. the hesitancy written on their face.

“damn it, i am dying. there’s no way around it. but at least let me be with them.” she whispers, their medical scientist’s eyes shine with understanding as they pick up her frail body and rush her to the garden. once there, they set her down gently at viktor’s feet.

“hi.” she whispers as her lungs seize. blood coating her hand as she just wipes it on her pant. the medical scientist tries to hand her water but she waves it away. “i think it’s time.” she holds viktors hand, a little cold but the same fingers she remembered nonetheless, and wrap her arm around jayce’s neck. “i hope i’ve made you proud. “ breathing heavy and labored. “i can’t wait to see you again.” her body relaxes more into her position, as she slumps over a bit, taking her final breath. her limbs turn to jello with her muscles relaxed and some how her arm stays around jayce and her hand in viktors, some how not falling, like they were holding her up.

____________. epilogue

the bright white of the fluorescent lights blinded her as she opened the shop up for the holidays. the darkness of 5 AM still cast the street in an eerie glow and made the shop light up like a honing beacon. she quickly turned on her holiday decorations and fairy lights. she blinked a few times and opened the front door so customers could start pouring in. filling the bakery case, then making herself a coffee she had already served 5 people. the day was a busy one, with so many customers blurring together and now thankfully almost ending.

“that’ll be $11.82.” she stated as her barista began making the order. closing the till she began helping the next customers, “welcome to hex and brew, what could we tempt you into?” she spews the greeting like she does every day. hearing two men talking doesn’t throw her off but it’s the accent of the one man. czech almost, soft but confident.

“you always get that damned gingerbread drink. why can’t you get something like crème brûlée?”

“well, because i like cinnamon and the sweet.” a sigh is heaved.

“we’ll get one gingerbread latte monstrosity and a black drip coffee. both large.” the voice now directed at her as she nodded.

“name for the order?” she asked, her throat dry for some reason and her body anxious, still writing the description of the drinks on the cups, not having looked up yet. writing off the feelings as her anxiety peaking during a rush.

“jayce is fine.” the other man responds and her hand freezes mid word, right in the middle of the words “black drip” on the second cup and finally looks up at them. her eyes meeting with the tallest-jayce- first. she shouldn’t have known who was who. she did though, as confusion, then shock and wonder settle. turning she looks at his partner.

his partner…

his partner……

her partner………

partners…

golden eyes meeting hers as the same emotions span across them as they did jayce’s. tears welling as his hands reached for hers, almost dropping everything he was holding. his hands were soft and warm, so unlike before. unlike the statue in her garden seemingly a lifetime ago. jayce’s hand reached up to cup her cheek. another lifetime of memories and love fill each of your thoughts.

“is it really you?” jayce asked

“miláček?” viktor questioned.

she breaks their connection, as their eyes widen and she quickly walks around the counter to them. “i couldn’t bare for anything else to separate us any longer.” she explained with a sad smile and a shrug, grabbing both their hands and pulling them into the back of the cafe where she had a cozy lounge break room for her and her team. “man the register?” she asked her friend behind the counter who nodded confused and started taking the next orders. once inside the break room, she shut the door, standing near it and not crossing over to the men on the other side. she closed her eyes as their presence agitated and reopened the gnarled wound that was in her chest from their absence. she always wondered why she felt this longing for someone, for people who were just like them. why none of the dates she went on never worked out. she had been waiting for them. the tears fell, ugly and fast. “of course it’s me…” her inhale is shuddering. “is it really you?” she asks, finally looking up at them, her eyes widening as both viktor and jayce’s faces are wet with tears. jayce makes the first move to her, he always made the first move, wrapping her in his abnormally large body. his warmth enveloping her, with the slight spiced scent that was just him. she cried harder.

“it’s me. it’s us. i promise.” jayce whispered. viktor came over, slithering his arm between jayce’s middle and hers. his other arm wrapping around her shoulder, pulling her against him too. clean musk fills the air as she turns a bit and takes her right arm wrapping it around viktors still small body.

“it’s us. it’s me. i-i am so sorry.” viktor whispers. she had never seen him cry before, but one time, in what felt like a lifetime ago talking about rio.

“viktor…” she trails off as his head is buried in her neck and they stay there, time holding no meaning to any of them. there would be a lot to talk about later, but for now, right now, they found each other again. that was enough.

this time, fate didn’t forget. this time, fate was forgiving. this time… fate favored the trio.

[catch1ngmoths]

please a joost kink hc post 😭 i can’t find anyyyy

⋆.ೃ࿔*JOOSTS KINK HC LIST:･જ⁀➴

Summary: what I think joosts kinks would be + some headcannons (｀▽´)

Note: this is my first time doing somthing like this so tell me if this is too much and or if I should take it down!! ^_^

Warnings: litterally just straight and utter smut so if that’s something that makes you uncomfortable click away!!

† ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ †

꩜ SIZE KINK; I feel like he would love a partner that is smaller in size then him. Which isn’t hard since this mf is literally like 6,3 in feet.

- “N-Ngh~ Joost…ts’too much..can’t take it” you whimper as you feel him push into you, he was a lot larger then you in size and hight but seeing you barely able to fit his length burned something inside him. “You can. And you will, now shut up and take it” he’d say back with a sadistic chuckle

꩜ DEGRADATION + PRAISE; I think Joost would like to mix the two together while fucking you. Saying the most dirty things in the sweetest way possible.

- “ha…such a dirty little thing…taking me so well. God your go good for me, taking it all like the dirty baby you are huh..?” He would mutter as he looks down at you on your knees, stroking your cheek affectionately

꩜ HAIR PULLING; I think Joost would love getting his hair pulled, your always running your hands through his hair through the day so feeling you tug on his hair in THIS atmosphere was something he treasures

- as he thrusts into you groaning into your neck you grab onto anything you can, that thing being his hair. As soon as he feels you tug on his hair he bites down onto your neck, not enough to hurt you of course but…yk. His thrusts become harsher, causing you to pull harder. This makes him grin

꩜ BRAT TAMING; sometimes whenever your being a bratty he knows just how to put you back in your place, fucking you stupid so you have no thoughts in your head to make those snarky remarks anymore (he secretly loves them tho)

- you smarted off to Joost earlier which ended up in you face down and ass up, your poor cunt being abused. You were so overstimulated but he didn’t stop. Everytime you were close he would stop his movements making you choke out a pathetic sob that was like music to his ears. By the end of it you’d be nothing but a little thing at his mercy.

꩜ DACRYPHILIA; seeing you cry during sex (CONSENSUALLY AND NOT IN PAIN) would literally make him go feral, especially if you’re begging since he won’t give you what you want. Bringing you to tears that made him just wanna ruin you

- Tears stain your cheeks as Joost hits that certain spot that makes you see stars, “right there…right there a-ah~” you cry, your tears leaving wet spots on the pillow below your head, making Joost groan and go even harder on you

꩜ SLAPPING; this one’s complicated because I feel like he’d NEVER slap your face. He loves you too much and takes that as way too far and as disrespectful. I’m taking about slaps to your thighs and ass yk?

- Joost kisses down your stomach and continues kissing down your inner thighs, causing you to instinctively clench around his head. At his he snickers and spreads your legs forcefully but not before placing a harsh slap to your thigh, peppering kisses where the hand print started to form

OR

- your face in burrowed into the pillow, muffling your loud moans as Joost fucks into you from behind. Before you can even comprehend what happened you feel a stinging pain on your ass. You yelp and moan louder into the pillow. His soft fingertips lovingly run over the hand print, soothing the red stinging and chuckling

† ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ †

Note: AHHH OKAY SO AGAIN THAT WAS MY FIRST TIME DOING SOMTHING LIKE THIS SO PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND IF I SHOULD TAKE THIS DOWN OR IF ITS GOOD (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[igotanidea]

Weekend came early: Jason Todd x reader

WARNING: SMUT MDNI!

A/N: I wish you all happy, evenful weekend ;)

***

It was just teasing. Nothing more. She really didn’t plan for it to end up like this.

Or—

Given how good she knew Jason’s tendency to get jealous easily--

Maybe she actually did?

***

It was Friday evening, the best day of the week, since there was two free out-of-work days on the horizon. Days Jason and Y/N were supposed to spend together for the first time in forever. He promised her that – no fighting, no blood, no patching up injuries and no vigilante bullshit.

But.

His promise only encompassed Saturday and Sunday, never including Friday.

Friday was the day when – as usual he was going to go on patrol and beat the shit out of some thugs, while playing the anti-hero.

And that left Y/N forced to tend to herself. To take care of herself in every possible meaning  of the word.

“What are you up to?” he peeked into the bedroom, observing his girlfriend, who was currently sitting in front of the mirror putting on her makeup and doing her hair, which was surprising to say the least. Ever since they met each other, years ago, dolling up and Y/N were two words that had rarely fitted in one sentence. Of course, since she was a woman, mascara, eyeshadows, lipstick and all other  make-up stuff Jason didn’t know the name of, was coming in handy sometimes, but--!. What the hell was she doing dressing up while he was about to go out?! Why was her hair shiny and flowing down her shoulders and back like a waterfall giving away the most intoxicating smell of her shampoo? Why were her lips red and her eyes so fucking seductive, highlighted by the distinct make up he never saw her wearing before!? And that look she gave him upon hearing his words? That teasing smile that adorned her face?!

WHO THE FUCK WAS SHE DOLLING UP FOR?!

What?” she teased turning towards him with a glint in the eyes. “Can’t a girl look good for herself? Am I supposed to wear sweatpants and have tear stains on my face just because you are out red hooding?”

“YES!” he had to put a hell lot of effort to prevent himself from bursting out with all the rage boiling inside him. Instead he settled on clenching his fist as a substitute for punching the wall. “Yes, you’re supposed to be pretty only for me!” Jason couldn’t care less that he was sounding like a male chauvinist.

“Now that’s a little mean, don’t you think?” she grinned innocently, batting her eyelashes freshly mascara-painted “I thought I was pretty all the time, not only when—“

“DO NOT FUCKING PLAY WITH ME Y/N!” it was so hard to hold back all that rage, jealousy, fear and the sudden feeling of betrayal. Almost as if the upcoming taking on the role of the Red Hood was influencing his behaviour as Jason Todd, the boyfriend¸ who was  always caring and gentle and loving.

Huh, apparently not anymore…..

Y/N only rolled her eyes in response, absolutely unfazed by the sudden change of tone, quickly putting finishing touches and getting up from behind the dressing table. Allowing Jason to see her fucking dress for the first time.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING IN THIS!?”

That piece of material was barely covering her, but perfectly accentuated her body, all those ideally shaped curves in all the right places.

His curves.

Fuck, he could already feel himself growing, the tactical pants becoming tight in the places they were not supposed to at the moment. She was doing it on purpose cause it was impossible that after all those years together she was oblivious and this stupid.

“Something wrong, baby?” her hips swayed when she took a few steps forward and put her hand on his bare shoulder. Right, cause he was only wearing his pants and no chest armour and jacket when her unusual preparations caught his attention, causing him to emerge from the bathroom.

“Where the hell are you going?!” he hissed  moving away from her touch despite all the instincts telling him otherwise.

“Oh, you know it’s nothing, just—“

“I told you to not play with me.”

“And I told you repeatedly that I am not intimidated by –“

‘Well maybe you should be.”  Just one move of his almost got her cornered. Almost, being the key word here, since the girl saw right through him, capably sneaking away.

“Don’t act crazy Jason. I’m just going out to have some fun.”

“FUN?!”

“Yeah.” she said in a completely innocent tone reaching for her coat “with my other boyfriend”

Jason froze.

Only for a second though.

And then his blood boiled.

She said other boyfriend.

“What did you just say?” the atmosphere in the apartment turned from playful and teasing into serious and heavy in a blink of an eye. “How many other boys do you have?!”

“Three, currently. “

“THREE?!”

“Had more, but cut down when we started dating. Besides you’re still my favourite so I don’t understand why you’re so angry about it. You’re the best in bed and -“

“WHAT?!!”  Was she even serious!  If Jason was the best that meant she had something to compare. Which could have only indicated that Y/N-. “You slept with someone else other than me!?”

Just the thought of other man kissing her in a way only he was allowed to, was too much. And there was a clear indication that there was more than just kissing. Other man- men- touched her. Traced her body, felt her moving underneath him, heard her calling- moaning- his name, had her hands all over him. Tasted her in a way that was reserved only for him. For Jason Peter Todd. Her fucking boyfriend.  

 “No.” he hissed grabbing her wrist and spinning her to him before she reached the door. “No.” Y/N met with eyes filled with lust and rage.

“What are you--?” she stuttered feeling him press her into the wall, not doing anything explicit, yet, but observing her like a prey, leaving minimum space between their bodies, once again trying to intimidate her and making it work this time.

“You won’t allow anyone to do what I do to you.” He leaned to whisper in her ear, hot breath laced with possessiveness hit her face “You understand me princess?” the unexpected grip and caress on her hips caused a little shiver to run through her body. “You’re mine. M-I-N-E, baby…” 

“You’re—You’re not the boss of me—“ she whimpered making it a little less firm than intended.

“Oh, I am not the boss?” he smirked tightening the grip on her, running fingers over her side, hooking over the hem of her short dress, tracing over her smooth thigh. “Maybe I should show you otherwise then?”

“I’m going—“ Y/N squirmed reaching for the doorknob

“Oh baby, I’m not really letting you.” Her wrist was gripped and pinned back to the wall next to her side stopping her from any movement.

“Good luck stopping me-“

There was really no space for her to fight him anymore, with those vigilante eyes tuned in on the slightest change in her expression, but she was trying nonetheless.

“You really want me to let you go, baby?” his lips brushed her cheek, his body pressing more into her. “Let another man touch you? Kiss you? See what belongs to me?” Jason’s thigh pressed between her legs causing her instinctive reaction in the form of grinding on it. “are you going to sleep with him?” he lifted the hem of her dress, reaching fingers to the inside of her thigh getting the exact shiver he craved.

“Yes!” she squealed even though her behaviour didn’t match the words at all.

“No, baby.”  He smiled softly, but his eyes were brutal and it wasn’t hard to guess what was coming for her if she kept on pushing and defying any longer.

“Ye-“

She never finished that sentence, getting pressed into the wall as Jason’s strong body claimed hers. He was done being gentle, biting her bottom lip, lifting her dress all the way up, instantly tearing off her little fancy panties, grabbing the back of her thighs wrapping her legs around him.

Grinding into her heat with the urgency and power of a predator brought to extreme.

The kiss was brutal to say the least. Almost violent. Boosted by the thought of her in the arms of another man. He won’t ever let it happen. She was his.

His, his, his. Only his.

And he was not going to share.

“Jason—“ she whimpered, but he didn’t listen. He was already ripping the upper part of her dress of, biting her neck, moving lips over her collarbone, kissing the part of her breast that weren’t covered by the bra. Marking the soft skin, making sure to leave a reminder who she belonged to. In case she forgot.

“Shit…” she moaned pulling at his hair, tightening her legs on him, leaving a wet trail on the pants he still had on.

Those actions only spurred him on, pushing him to rip off her bra, not caring whether it might have been expensive or her favourite, it had to go. Her breasts and those already stiff, pebbled nipples being the main object of his interest at the moment.

“Mine.” He hissed with voice hoarse, deep, full of uncontrollable lust for her body, grabbing onto the soft bosom, palming it and squeezing mercilessly in primal need to see the hand-shaped bruises all over it. “mine”. The other breast was devoured with his lips and tongue that was capably tasting her nipple, flicking and licking in that perfect way that never failed to make her melt into him. He knew exactly where and how to touch to elicit the perfect sounds and turn them both on to the extreme. For example, he was fully aware that tracing one finger at her sensitive spot, just at the swell of her chest, close to the side would make her cry out in pleasure and get even more wet. Making it so much easier to slid inside later.

“Jason!!” she grinded on him, raking nails down his back, scratching and leaving red marks in their wakes. Her back arched to him, wanting rather to feel his warm, broad bare chest rather than cold hard wall he was relentlessly pressing her into, getting possessive, dominant in the need to trap her.

His mind was screaming with simple thoughts: Possess her. Own her. Devour her.  Fuck her brains out.

They were already high, not even getting to the best part yet. And damn, she was dripping from the need of him.

“Jason—“

“Yeah?” he gasped pulling back only to resume his touches, tracing over her thigh getting another string of desperate mewls, smirking in complacency. “what did you want to say princess….?”

“I—“

“I’m listening….” His lips moved higher, brushing over her breast, neck, jaw, moving towards her earlobe, which he bit lightly. “You have my whole attention…”

“Mhm…” she tried to reach to his zipper, but Jason couldn’t let her have what she wanted just yet. She need to be taught what exclusivity meant. “Need you—“

“I know baby…” he smirked again, grinding his hardness more into her. Her sobbing and pleading didn’t do much to change his mind

“Please!” she sobbed, trying once more to free him, but ending up with hands pinned above her head completely helpless and at his mercy. She awoken the animal.

“Say my name princess.”

“Jason!”

“who do you belong to!?”

“You!” she moaned through the tears of need, burning from the desire to feel him, touch him, aching for the sensation only he could bring her.

“That’s fucking right. ME.”

One movement and one scream later she finally got what she wanted. It was just so easy for him to claim her given the fact she was already dripping with arousal.

At this point control was out the window.

Pushing, pulling, moving.

Lips clashing, teeth biting, hands exploring each other's bodies like they were meeting the soft skin and defined muscles all over again. Building the intensity and pleasure as never before.

Pain and pleasure.

Possessiveness and softness.

Her.

His.

Yes.

Almost there!

She was so soft, so warm, so fucking delicious and wet.

He was covered with sweat unable to hold back grunts and squeezing her body, hurting her and adoring all at once.

So close...

Yes....

Yes, yes, yes!

When she screamed his name one more time, digging nails into his back with the force she didn’t know she had, he had no choice but to follow right after.

Never ever before falling into the bottomless pit were so good.

Becoming one.

***

“Was I too rough?”

They vaguely remembered the moment when Jason, with the last of his strength, filled with care and bliss, cradled her in his arms carrying to the bed.

Silkiness of the sheets, gentle kisses and caresses, devoid of rush and voracity were the most stark and the most welcomed contrast to what they did against the wall some time earlier.

“No.” she smiled at him, their blissful eyes meeting. ‘I mean, maybe a little, but no.”

“Well in my defence—“ he started, the guilt upon seeing all her bruises and bite marks taking hold on him.

“There’s no one else but you.” Her soft voice and subtle touch on his cheek cut him off.

“But-“

“I lied.” She sighed, not apologising about it.

 “What? Why?”

“I don’t even know now.” Y/N rolled on her back, stretching herself without covering her body testing Jason’s self-control once more.

“Is there a possibility you missed me that much it forced you to push me past my limits?” he smirked, tracing one finger over her exposed belly in a very suggestive manner.

“You’re such a prick Jason Todd. I’m not adding to your blown up ego…”

“Maybe not with words—“ he laughed not stopping his actions, enjoying the Goosebumps that covered her body. “Admit it. You did miss me.”

“Mh. It’s impossible to wait till Saturday and Sunday to have you all to myself” She muttered

“Well I suppose the weekend came early for you baby.” He rolled on top of her starting another round.

Red hood, duties and that little dent in the wall that would cause them to say goodbye to the deposit money, has just became meaningless for the upcoming two and a half days.

[sharksfrommars]

woah, what’s this? Part 3 of Dad Stan?

Part 1 | part 2 | part 4

it’s what you all been waiting for. I’m honestly shocked at how much people like it? I’m not a very good writer, technically speaking, but I try my best. But seriously, thank you. The response to this has been CRAZY.

anyway, im so sorry for what your about to read. Please direct all your death threats to my inbox (/j don’t sent actual death threats obvs)

Stan and his small child hang out with a slightly deranged man

“YOU CAN’T TRICK ME, BILL!” Ford yelled. This definitely wasn’t what Stan was expecting. He held Lola close and took a deep breath.

“Look, Ford, I think you need help”

“HELP DESTROYING THE UNIVERSE! You WOULD say that, Bill, that is SO like you. And the NERVE to show up as my BROTHER? He had NOTHING to do with this. And NOTHING you do can convince me to open the poRTAL!” 

Ford got incredibly close to Stan’s face. Stan was glad that he had forgotten about the crossbow. He was less glad that Ford seemed a bit unstable and deranged. Drugs really seemed like it was the only explanation. Stan felt Lola let go of his leg as Ford continued rant and rave utter nonsense directly into Stan’s face.

Then Ford stopped. He looked into Stan’s eyes for a long while. Stan looked back, taking note of each scarlet blood vessel that stained the whites of his brother’s eyes. Something in Ford’s gaze softened and he backed off.

“You’re not Bill” he stated. “You’re Stanley”

Stan scoffed. “Yeah, pointdexter. I coulda told you that, if ya hadn’t shoved a crossbow in my face.”

Ford blinked. He scratched his bandaged hand, blood leaking through the gauze. Stan looked at it, concerned.

“Look, Sixer-“

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Ford yelled, slapping Stan.

Suddenly, Lola got between them, crossbow in hand, pointed at Stanford.

“DON’T TOUCH MY DAD!” She yelled, as she struggled to hold up the crossbow. It was half her size. Stan held in a giggle. It was kind of cute, really. It reminded Stan of last year, when he taught Lola gun safety and how to shoot ‘just in case’. Except the crossbow was much heavier.

Ford stared, like a deer in headlights. Lola’s legs shook.

“Step away from Stan, or I’ll shoot ya!” She said, a slight quaver in her voice. Ford looked to Stan.

“You bought a little girl?” Ford questioned. Stan sighed, placing his hand on Lola’s head.

“Put the crossbow down, sweetie”

“But Stan! He’s going to hurt you!”

Stan looked up at Ford with an unimpressed glare.

“Well let’s ask him.” He said, “Ford. Are ya gonna hurt me, or is Lola gonna have to stick a crossbow in your privates?”

Ford stared like a startled fox, before shaking his head.

“No. No im not going to hurt you, Stanley.” 

Stan smiled.

“See, Lola! No need to worry.”

Lola carefully put the crossbow on the ground, and pulled on Stan’s sleeve. Stan picked her up.

“So, Ford. Ya gonna let us inside?”

Ford slowly nodded. “Yes… of course, come in.”

“NO!” Lola screamed. 

“Gee, kid, ya tryna deafen me?”

Lola grabbed Stan’s face and very seriously stared him down.

“We need to get Lizard.”

“Lizard?” Ford asked, “you bought a lizard? From where?”

But Stan wasn’t listening, because he knew this gambit. 

The town they lived in before Forks, they had to leave because Rico’s boys had found Stan. They had caught Stan and Lola trying to escape town, and had tied Stan up in a shady warehouse. Lola was only 3, and was obviously terrified. But she was smart, smarter than Stan would have been at her age. She started screaming for Lizard, to the point where Rico’s boys were getting annoyed. Once Stan explained that Lizard was her toy that she left in the car, they took her to grab lizard. Whilst at the car though, she picked up Stan’s gun, the one he left in the glovebox, and his switchblade. 

Stan still had no idea how she came up with it. Didn’t know whether it was on impulse on her part, or an intentional plan. But thanks to her quick thinking, they got out of there unscathed.

Since then, Lola always left Lizard in the car when they went somewhere new. And if she felt unsafe, she would go back to get him, and whatever else she figured she’d need, usually dragging Stan with her.

 It meant she thought Stan should bring his gun.

Lola really didn’t trust Stanford. Honestly, Stan could understand why. He did just threaten them with a crossbow. He seemed out of it. He didn’t want to go into his brother’s house gun’s blazing. He could feel Lola shaking in his arms. He knew she was putting up a brave face.

“Alright, sweetheart.” Stan said, before turning to Ford. “Sorry, Ford, we just gotta get Lola’s favourite toy from the car. We’ll be back in a minute”

Stan sat Lola in the back seat. She was clutching Lizard close as Stan stuck his handgun into his waistband, hidden by his jacket.

“Ya okay, kid?” He asked.

Lola mumbled into Lizard. She had tears in her eyes.

“Sorry, Lola. Didn’t catch that.”

Lola looked up at Stan with wide wet eyes.

“I want to go home” she weeped, “it’s scary. I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

Stan gave her a hug, and kissed the top of her head.

“I know, baby. Its alright”

“C-can we go home, Stan”

“Not yet, kid. I’m gonna need ya to be brave, just for a little while, Okay?”

She sobbed into Stan’s shoulder. 

“Stan, I had a bad dream. That you were gonna go away…”

Stan held her tighter.

“I ain’t going anywhere, kid. I’m sticking with ya for as long as you want.”

It took a while for Lola to calm down, and when they returned to the house, they saw Ford sitting on the doorstep with his head in his hands. He looked like he’d hit Rock bottom. Once Ford saw Stan and Lola coming, he quickly stood up, wiping ‘dirt’ off his shirt. Unfortunately, Ford’s hand was bleeding, so he ended up spreading blood all down his front. He didn’t notice.

“I’m sorry for my hospitality, I’m a little …on edge” Ford said.

“Gee, really?”

“Now Stanley, do you want to introduce me to your daughter?”

“She ain’t my daughter.”

“But she called you-“

Lola interrupted Ford by blowing a raspberry as he tried to speak.

“Lola.” Stan said, “do you want to introduce yourself?”

Lola shook her head vehemently. “Lizard says he’s stinky.”

“Alright.” Said Stan. “You don’t have to”

He looked at Ford. “We gotta talk. And not in the snow.”

So Ford led Stan inside. Ford’s house was a mess. All sorts of weird science gizmos were spread all over the place, and there were masses of notes on every surface. It was unreasonably cold and dark inside, and it had an unsettling combination of odours. Ozone and mould, blood and sweat. Burning hair, strange chemicals, rotting meat. It was nasty.

“Lizard was right. You ARE stinky” Lola said. Stan was still carrying her, and she was still clutching onto lizard. Stan laughed.

“Seriously, pointdexter. Do you ever clean?”

Ford turned around, and gave the two of them a haunting glare, and started to cry blood out of his right eye.

“I haven’t really had the time…”

“Woah, Ford. You need medical attention. We gotta get ya to a hospital-“

“NO!”

Stan hasn’t realised he was reaching out with his free hand until Ford slapped away. Stan got a serious look on his face, and he readjusted his hold on Lola. She had buried her head in lizard again.

“Ford, what’s going on.”

Ford fiddled with his hands, and looked around erratically.

“Ford, please, let me help you.”

Ford seemed to collapse into himself, and glared suspiciously.

“What are you doing here, Stanley?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? You called ME! You think I was gonna let ya just jump into a frozen lake and die?”

“What… that was real?”  Ford looked dazed.

“Was that- YES FORD IT WAS REAL. Real and SCARY! I started driving AS SOON AS YOU CALLED, hoping that you hadn’t done something STUPID.”

“Oh”

Ford collapsed with his head in his hands. “You should have just ignored it, Stanley.”

Stan sat down next to Ford. “And let my favourite brother die? As if”

Lola squirmed in Stan’s arms, so he put her down. She stood at Stan’s side and pointed accusingly to Ford.

“Why are you mean on the phone?” She asked 

“I wanna know that too. Ya gave Lola a right scare. How did you know that stuff about her?” said Stan.

Ford seemed to consider something, before standing up suddenly.

“Alright. I’ve got to show you something.”

Lola clung to Stan’s back as Ford lead them past a sci-fi looking door and down a long flight of stairs. Ford was spouting nonsense about how he had doomed the world. Stan didn’t really get what this had to do with the fact he that Ford was clearly sick and bleeding. 

“So who’s the Bill guy?” Stan asked.

“He’s… not important. It doesn’t matter. I have to destroy the portal.”

“Portal?” Asked Stan.

Just then, doors opened revealing a massive triangular machine, that whirred and buzzed with power. Stan stood, mouth agape. Lola screamed, and started crying.

“STAN!” She cried, “we need to go home NOW. It gonna eat you!”

Stan bought Lola to his front, comforting her.

“I told ya, lo. I ain’t going anywhere. That machine ain’t gonna hurt us.” He said.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Stanley.” Ford said, a grave look on his face, “this is a trans dimensional gateway, my greatest creation, and my biggest mistake.”

“A what now?”

“It’s a doorway to hell…” whispered Lola.

Concern grew on Ford’s face. “Stanley, how does the child know about the portal?”

He was starting to look panicked. Lola had started crying again. Stan looked between them.

“Stanley, what does the child know?” Ford said, inching closer. Lola pulled away, jumping from Stan’s arms and running. She found a corner to hide in, clutching Lizard tight. Ford made to follow, but Stan stopped him.

“Ford, you’re scaring her.”

“I’m not going to hurt her, I just need to check her eyes”

“No you don’t. What’s going on.”

“Yes I do, Stanley, the fate of the world is at stake! If I’ve let Him in here, then it’s over for ALL of us.”

Ford was getting agitated, as he stormed to where Lola was hiding. Lola screamed, so Stan shoved him.

“Ford, leave her alone! Just tell me what’s going on!”

“IVE RUINED EVERYTHING” Ford cried. There was a crazy look in his eyes, all paranoia and edge.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I can’t sleep, Stanley! If I do, He gets what He wants. I can’t do that!”

Stan has one explanation, one thing that made any sense at all.

“Ford, what have you been taking”, he said, placing his hands on Ford’s shoulders.

“What? What are you talking about?” Ford said, shoving Stan’s off of him. “You, you think I’m doing drugs?” 

“Look, Ford, there’s no shame in -“

Ford shoved Stan. “Are you insane? Why would you think I’m on drugs? I’m not some…some…”

“Some what? What do you want me to think, Ford? Ya haven’t said a single thing that’s made a lick of sense. You CALLED me and you don’t even remember!”

“It WASN’T ME THAT CALLED YOU”

“OH REALLY? THAN WHO WAS IT? BECAUSE IT SURE SOUNDED LIKE YOU.”

“WHY WOULD I CALL YOU?? WHAT COULD I POSSIBLY NEED YOUR HELP FOR?”

“I drove here for 8 HOURS STRAIGHT. Through a SNOWSTORM. Because YOU CALLED ME saying you were going to COMMIT SUICIDE. I came here to HELP YOU cus you sounded like you needed it.”

“I never ASKED YOU TO COME”

Stan and Ford were in each other’s faces now, red with anger. Stan felt tears sting his eyes.

“No, you didn’t. Cause you ‘Never loved me’, that right? You just wanted me to know that?  I looked put for you our ENTIRE LIVES and you think I’m just a waste of space.”

“You didn’t look out for me when you BROKE MY SCIENCE FAIR PROJECT”

“Sweet Moses you’re STILL ON THAT? Newsflash Sixer, ya had a good life anyway. Ya got a fancy house and fancy degree, and enough college money to build a FUCKING TRIANGLE.”

Ford saw red, he shoved Stan, right into red hot metal. Stan screamed, and Lola ran up to him.

“STAN!” She cried as she went to him. Ford went to help Stan too, but Lola bit him.

“GO AWAY” she yelled, as she reached for Stan’s gun. She pointed it at Ford, who immediately put his hands up.

“Ok… ok… I’m stepping away” Ford said, slowly walking backwards. Stan started to get up.

“Put the gun down, Lola. He’s not gonna hurt anyone” Stan said.

“He already hurted you” she cried, dropping the gun 

“I know, baby. I know. This was a bad idea. Let’s go home”

“Stanley, stay” said Ford, “at least let me tend to your wound”

“Don’t fucking speak to me, Stanford.” Said Stan as he carried Lola back up the stairs. He heard Ford sob as he left, but he didn’t have it in him to care. He was tired, and this whole thing was stupid. It was stupid that Stan actually thought that Ford would take his help, and it was even more stupid to think Ford cared about him at all. That call should have made that obvious.

As they trekked up the stairs, Stan was quiet. He felt empty, like something was missing. He’d lost Ford before, a lot, but this time felt real. It felt like the end.

Then, Lola gasped, struggling out of Stan’s arms. “I left Lizard!” She cried, running down the stairs. Stan chased after her.

“Lola wait” he cried as she rushed off. “LOLA”

He chased after her, but she was quick. She got to the bottom before him. And he heard her scream, followed by a creepy, psychotic laugh.

Lola was clutching Lizard, as ‘Ford’ approached her. It was like her nightmare, with those terrifying yellow eyes and a laugh that came straight from hell. CNN

“I GOTTA HAND IT TO YA, KID. YOU SURE GOT GUTS COMING BACK DOWN HERE!”

He’s holding Stan’s gun, stumbling towards her like a Zombie.

“Ya know. I shoulda known that frilly bastard would be watching. They tried once. Bet they didn’t expect it to backfire so SPECTACULARLY.”

Ford’s face was grinning horrifically wide. Lola couldn’t move, it was all she could do to stay standing. Ford’s inhuman eyes were locked on the axolotl plush’s deeply looking face

“Hope you’re happy, Axy! I’m getting EVERYTHING I WA-“

Stan burst in with a punch. A shot rang out through Stan’s shoulder.

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER, YOU PSYCHOPATHIC SON OF A BITCH!” He yelled, his shoulder burning and bleeding. He tried to wrestle the gun out of Ford’s hands. Ford laughed.

“OOO SPARE PARTS IS BACK TOO? SIXER’S GONNA LOVE IT WHEN I STRING YOU UP BY YOUR INTESTINES AND HANG YOU IN HIS ROOM!”

“Shut the fuck up, Ford!” 

They knocked a lever, Ford’s body on the ground. Stan punched Ford, breaking his glasses.

“HAJHAHAHAHA!” Ford laughed, “SIXER TRIED SO HARD TO STOP ME, BUT THEN HE JUST HANDED IT TO ME. I GUESS ITS TIME FOR ME TO MAKE MY GRAND ENTRANCE”

And with that Ford fell limp. Stan didn’t notice, not until Ford pushed him off.

“Stanley stop! I’m sorry! That wasn’t-“

Ford pushed Stan off of him, but he didn’t fall back. He floated. Lola was crying, and Stan tried to reach for her.

“Ford! What’s going on!”

Ford tried to reach, he really did. But the world went silent and slow, and nothing Ford tried would reach him. He saw Lola run towards the portal. Ford stopped her, as she shook and bit and screamed. He saw the look in Stan’s eyes. He was scared. Ford cursed himself, cursed Stanley, cursed Bill and cursed the entire goddamn world. Stan’s eyes met Ford’s, full of disappointment and betrayal and maybe some understanding. He knew he was going to die. He turned to Lola.

“Lola, I love you.” He said, his body bathed in sickeningly blue light. 

“DADDY NO! COME BACK” Lola wailed. But the portal was sputtering closed now. It collapsed on itself. Leaving Stan stranded 

Ford could only stare, as Lola pleaded to the portal, made infinite promises. She was only little, she didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. But she could blame.

Lola stood up, once it became clear that there was no bringing Stan back. She stared Ford down, with as much rage as she could hold.

“I HATE YOU!” She screamed. And she ran out of the basement, out of the house, into the blizzard outside.

Ford knew he had to make it up to Stan. If Stan was even alive in there. But still, it took him a moment too long to go looking for her

[phoenixblaze1412]

rough sex with pantalone please (also pegging him is a MUST after he rocks our insides)

The blizzard outside Zapolyarny Palace howled against the stained-glass windows of the Regrator’s private study, but inside, it was hot.

From the firelight.

From the friction.

From the way he gripped your throat.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” Pantalone whispered, lips brushing your ear, voice like silk-draped venom as he snapped his hips into you again. “Wanted to feel what it’s like to be ruined by someone who can buy and break empires.”

You gasped beneath him, legs trembling as the edge built higher. His rhythm was unforgiving, calculated—like everything he did.

He took control like a man used to it.

And archons… it felt so good.

His gloved hand cupped your jaw, forcing your eyes to his. Behind his glasses, Pantalone’s expression was unreadable—except for the glint of dark satisfaction when your breath hitched, your body arching for more.

“You’re just another asset,” he smirked. “Owned. Claimed. And if you behave... I’ll let you finish.”

You laughed.

Soft. Dangerous.

And he froze.

Because you weren’t supposed to laugh.

Not when he was in control.

Not when he had you beneath him.

But you had other plans.

Moments later, Pantalone was flat on his back—shirt undone, cravat discarded, chest rising with fast, shocked breaths. His wrists pinned above his head by your hands.

“Asset?” you purred, kissing the line of his jaw while grinding your hips against him. The strap on you wear teasingly rubbing against his hole. “Funny. Because right now, you’re the one begging.”

He glared, but it cracked when you dragged your fingers down his chest and kissed his throat—possessively.

Slowly. As if marking your territory.

“You don’t get to own me,” you whispered, voice thick with desire. “Not when you’re the one about to fall apart for me.”

And then—you slid it in. Pushing the strap deeper until it's fully inside.

His body arched, a surprised, strangled moan tearing from his throat as the harness claimed him inch by inch.

He swore.

And then…

“F-Fuck—keep going—don’t stop—!”

The Regrator comes undone.

Pantalone had never looked this wrecked.

Sweat-slick. Moaning. Head tipped back against the velvet chaise as your hips rolled into his, slow at first—teasing, making him twitch and shudder with every drag.

“You sound so pretty,” you whispered, licking the shell of his ear. “Where’s that cold superiority now, mm? Can’t buy your way out of this.”

His voice cracked.

“You—hah—filthy little—fuck, I—”

You grinned.

“Aww. You like being used, don’t you?”

You fucked him harder.

The table rattled.

His moans were muffled by your hand over his mouth, his body trembling under the overwhelming pleasure. You could feel how he clenched around every thrust, starved for more. Needy.

Desperate.

“More,” he gasped finally. “I said—more—archons, don’t you dare fucking stop—!”

“I thought you ran this empire,” you teased breathlessly, “but look at you—falling apart for your own subordinate.”

He came undone the moment you said it.

You didn’t let him go right away.

Even when he was twitching, overstimulated, face flushed and lips parted—his glasses askew—you rocked into him gently, savoring how his thighs trembled around you.

“Yours,” he muttered against your shoulder, dazed, possessive even in surrender. “Only yours.”

You kissed his cheek. And then his lips. Still holding his hips, still buried in him.

“You remember that next time you try calling me an asset,” you whispered.

He chuckled—breathless, wrecked.

“You’re no asset,” he said hoarsely. “You’re my downfall.”

[rotthepoet]

I saw you say you have writers block so feel absolutely zero pressure to do anything with this, it was just a thought I felt like you could appreciate w/ me! I saw a Ron work forever ago (cannot remember the author unfortunately) where he was your bestie and you went on a date and came back unsatisfied from your date/hookup so he took it upon himself to take care of you but can you just for a moment imagine that situation with bestie Theo 🥹

He’s already angry because you’re his girl, and pretty much everyone in the school knows that so he cannot believe the audacity of some boy asking you on a date to begin and then for you to come back teary eyed and frustrated?! He felt like he could kill the guy for it. But obviously he’s not going to leave you like that- he’d never. So he fingers you with his pretty, thick, ringed fingers until you’re so relaxed against the bed that you’re not even sure you could stand. BUT You want more. He’s so hot and god the things he whispered in your ear while he had his fingers inside you were to die for. So you ever so sweetly blink up at him, batting your eyes so cutely, and ask him to pretty please fuck you. And of course, he happily obliges.

Other boys don’t ask you on dates anymore.

Maybe you call him daddy idk I can’t really make up my mind if that would be something he’d rock with or not

oMG I DO APPRECIATE THISSS I LOVE IT

nasty ass Slytherin boys i love toxic and manipulative men 🙏

Because Theo is literally pissed all week, Mattheo keeps making a joke that hes on the rag, because theo is unfocused, smoking constantly, adhd off the wall, shits going down

If the slytherin dorms didnt have stone walls there would 100% be a hole in them.

Regardless, He’s fucking pissed. Especially the day that uou go on the date. Hes staying up all night, pacing in the common room because his ruminating was too loud for his dorm mates, and in you walk, heels in your hand, lips downturned and obviously pissed off.

And omg theo is about to kill a man. Because why the fuck do you look so fucking upset??? Holy shit.

“Bella, whats wrong? What did he do?”

“It’s not what he did, its what he didnt do. Couldn’t do, i guess.”

“Oh?”

“…”

“Oh.”

And i mean. Theo cant just leave his girl hanging, all needy and clearly unsatisfied. He approaches you, slowly, afraid you might run away. He holds your face in one hand, leaning into your ear and promising he’ll make it all better. That he’ll step up as your best friend, this is what friends are for, right?

And god when his lips are kissing down your neck, biting and sucking over the marks your failed date had left, making them his own, you cant even argue.

So its really no surprise when he has you in your bed, your dorm miraculously empty for this time of night, and uour back is to his chest, and his fingers are spreading apart your folds, and he’s mumbling so sweetly in your ear. And fuck its so hood. Its SO good. You’re finishing in now time, pussy spasming around his long fingers, the once cold metal rings now warm and stained with your arousal.

But its not enough. Nothing will ever be enough when it comes to theo. And youre so fucking whiney and pathetic and how coukd theo say no when you practically beg him to fuck you, to fill uou to the brim with his hard, heavy cock.

I mean, he would never have said no anyways.

And so there you are, face down in bed, your tears being kissed away as Theo brings you to release over and over again, your core all puffy and sensitive from overstimulation.

He isn’t stopping until half your neck is purple with his love bites, and hes sucked a makeshift “T” into your shoulder, marking you as his.

[ilysungho]

i feel like we dont get enough dom!riwoo on here!! do u have any thoughts on dom riwoo ?! 🙈🙈 i literally cant get him out my mind,, feel like he'd be so mean but so nice all at once ~_~

- @hazeytae :3

I WAS ABOUT TO START WRITING A DOM!RIWOO FIC BECAUSE I THOUGHT THE SAME HELLO? you read my mind love 💗 this turned out WAY longer than i thought it would be but enjoy hehe ☺️

dom!riwoo would be so mean and nice all at once, i agree! he’d have his signature cocky smile on his face as he feels you grind on his lap during a makeout session. his voice is so gorgeous and i just know he would talk to you a lot, even hum at you as you beg for more from him. but he’d take it oh so slowly. granted he doesn’t mind quickies, but he would want to savor the moment when he has the time. he’d say how your his pretty girl, but then ask “or do you want to be my pretty slut for the night?”. your reaction says it all as he buries his face into your neck, leaving wet and sloppy kisses because he knows you like how the air hits the saliva on your skin, making you moan softly as you hug his chest. the grinding doesn’t falter as he tells you to take your shirt off for him, flaunting your braless figure for him to mark. he’d smirk at how thoughtful you are for not wearing anything underneath, but even then he’s pretty good at unhooking your bra with a single pinch.

~ more under cut!

riwoo would draw shapes and words on your back as he sucks your delicate nipples, humming at your moans as you feel your panties getting wetter. his jeans might have a stain before he gets down to where you need him, but it’s ok. it’s not like he needs the clothes soon anyways. his tongue would paint all over your skin so expertly that all you can do is wonder how he does it so well every time. he’d definitely want to have sex regularly, whether it be quickies, or soft and sensual sex, or hard and kinky sex. he’s into all of it and if you weren’t then that’s also ok. he’d only go as far as you allow. as he kisses your marked up breasts, he’d bend you backwards onto the mattress/couch, while kissing down your stomach, holding onto your back so preciously. he loves how you arch your back to let him do so, getting so turned on to be able to see your soaked, translucent cloth barely covering your needy cunt now. he’d smirk as he teases you for it, but you can’t even tell him off as you’re humping your hips up to his lips while begging for more. “mhm ok darling, whatever you want.” falls out of his perfectly plump lips as he pulls the useless cloth off of you. he’s conditioned you by now to take two fingers immediately when wet, and that’s what he does while his tongue drinks your juices and flicks your clit. he’d moan teasingly against the sensitive skin to get you even more riled up, the vibrations not even close to the ones from your vibrators he’d bought for you. you liked how his irregular hums made you shake over his touch, and he liked how you shook under him as he teased you so gently. but it’s not the most he’d tease you. oh no, he would tease you for so long. he’d eat you out for hours on end if he could, sending you to the edge multiple times with just his tongue and fingers.

as you whine about how you’re going to cum, riwoo would sit up, still fingering you while he tells you to let it out, taking his dick out to put a condom on in the process. and when you do, he’d take your cum and use it as lube to finally fuck you (for the first time out of many rounds). the penetration would have you arch your back once again from how he’d fill you up fuller than his fingers had. his cock would be an average length, curved and a little on the thin side. yet your pussy would swallow him up and clench around him so perfectly. he’d tongue the insides of his cheek, still coated with the taste of you, as he smirks at how well you’re taking him despite just cumming.

this would go on for a while, the two of you changing positions often, with him particularly being a fan of fucking you sideways with your hands pinned to your back and upper leg on his shoulder. as the rounds continue on, he’d get more vulgar with his word choices too. degrading you with every thrust, his pace wouldn’t falter. he’s a dancer after all; he’s used to hard practices so he has built up a good amount of stamina. and he wouldn’t stop until your overstimulated and squirting all over his dick. after all, he’d only be satisfied once you make a mess <3

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

“Love’s Gonna Get You Killed”

Chapter 6

“Distance + Retaliation”

Synopsis: A wounded mafia heir stumbles into a late-night convenience store, where a quiet clerk patches him up. He walks out—but can’t stop watching her. As danger circles and their worlds quietly collide, one question remains: Can you stay untouched in a life soaked in blood?

Word Count: 2,440

Karina X Male Reader

Suijoon dragged his bloodied leg across the cracked pavement, leaving a smeared trail as the van idled under the moonless sky. His shirt clung to him, soaked with sweat and failure.

The driver lit a cigarette, watching him struggle. “Zero for two,” he muttered, smoke curling from his lips. “Boss’ll be thrilled.”

“Shut the fuck up and drive.”

The silence in the van was thick. The only sound was Suijoon’s labored breathing and the rattle of broken weapons at his feet.

They pulled into the shipyard—the Syndicate’s ghostlike base carved into rusted steel and sea rot. Floodlights hummed to life. Armed men lined the path in silence, eyes tracking Suijoon’s limp like vultures scenting weakness.

Inside, the boss sat beneath a single bulb, suited in black, rings gleaming like threats on his fingers. His chair creaked as he leaned forward.

Suijoon didn’t even get a word out.

The backhand came fast—sharp, practiced. He hit the floor hard, copper in his mouth.

“I said nothing,” the boss growled, low and precise. “Because I’m done hearing excuses.”

Suijoon coughed, spit red on the floor. “Boss, it was a setup. I didn’t expect—”

“You didn’t think. That’s your fucking problem.”

The room stilled.

The boss stood, walking toward him with deliberate steps. “Do you think this is a game? You’re not some street punk throwing punches for pride. You’re wearing my colors. That means when you bleed, it stains me.”

Suijoon looked up, jaw tight. “I’ll fix it.”

The boss crouched, grabbed him by the jaw. “You’re not fixing shit. You’re lucky I haven’t fed you to the harbor yet. Two failures. Two.”

A blade glinted in his hand—not raised, just there, a quiet threat between them.

“You’re becoming a liability,” he whispered. “And you know what we do with those.”

He let go. Suijoon slumped, chest heaving.

“Now get out of my sight. And pray you’re worth more alive tomorrow than you are dead tonight.”

While the scent of gunpowder still lingered in the air and the distant echo of sirens began to creep into the night, you and Karina crouched in the shadows of a narrow alleyway. The glow of a single flickering streetlamp above you cast long silhouettes on the wall. Your back leaned against the cold brick, hand pressed tightly against your side—warm blood slipping through your fingers.

“You good?” you asked, your voice ragged, panting.

Karina looked at you, face pale but steady. “I should be asking that,” she replied, eyes darting to the spreading red on your shirt. “You’re bleeding—Y/N, you’re hit.”

“Yeah,” you managed, smirking despite the pain, “just a scratch.”

She scoffed, trying to stay calm, but you could see her hands trembling as she reached into your coat pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. She pressed it against the wound with shaky but determined pressure.

The truth hadn’t quite settled in her eyes yet. You could see it—the storm building behind her silence. She had questions, hundreds of them, but her lips didn’t move. Not yet. Instead, she stayed beside you, kneeling in the filth of the alley, pressing against the bullet wound of a man she only thought she knew.

The next night, you came by the convenience store again.

Same time. Same door chime. Same quiet “Hey Rina.”

But something had changed.

She didn’t turn around immediately like she usually did. No soft smile. No teasing remark. Just a faint nod over her shoulder as she restocked a shelf of instant noodles. “Hey.”

You tried to pretend it was nothing.

You placed the brown paper bag on the counter like always. Kimbap. Her favorite. You remembered.

“I brought you food again,” you said casually, like your hands hadn’t held a gun last night, like you didn’t have a stitched-up bullet wound under your coat.

She didn’t move from behind the register. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” you said, your voice low, “but I wanted to.”

Her eyes flickered to the bag, then to you. There was something unreadable in them. Not fear exactly—just a distance. Like someone looking at a stranger wearing someone else’s face.

“You didn’t tell me,” she finally said.

You stayed silent.

She looked down at her hands. “I thought you were just… someone who liked midnight snacks. Someone with good taste in tteokbokki and bad jokes.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into my world.”

“But you did,” she said sharply, not angry—just tired. “And now I can’t unsee it.”

Silence settled between you, heavy like the gun you still had holstered under your coat.

You wanted to reach for her. Say something. Anything.

But she stepped back slightly, a subtle shift in weight that said more than words could.

You didn’t push. You just nodded, grabbed the untouched food bag, and turned to leave.

And for the first time in weeks, the door chime behind you didn’t sound like comfort.

It sounded like goodbye.

Monaco. 12:47 AM.

The alley was wet—fresh with blood and rain. Sirens screamed in the distance, but no one dared approach. Not when he was in town.

Two men already lay crumpled on the pavement—one with half a face missing, the other still twitching, as if trying to crawl out of death. A trail of smeared crimson marked his final attempt. He didn’t make it far.

A third man was breathing—barely. Curled behind a dented trash can, knees to chest, his body trembled with each breath. He hadn’t even realized he pissed himself.

Then came the footsteps.

Not rushed. Not heavy.

Measured. Calm. Like death taking its time.

Click. Clack. Click.

The man’s heart pounded so loud he thought it would give him away. He pressed his back tighter against the brick wall, eyes wide, lips quivering in silence.

Then

A voice. Smooth. Low. Cold enough to burn.

“You know what happens to people who flee?”

The words wrapped around his throat tighter than fear.

Silence.

“They perish.”

Another step closer.

“Because people who flee… are cowards.”

A breath hitched. He bit into his knuckle to keep from screaming.

Smoke curled past the edge of the trash can. A faint scent of blood and gunpowder mixed in the air. The air was heavy—wrong—like the alley itself was holding its breath.

Draco’s voice came again—soft, but with enough weight to crush the world.

“I know you’re behind that trash can.”

Silence.

“Right where rats like you belong.”

A pause.

“Let’s make this simple.”

Draco’s boots stopped a few feet away.

“Do you know a gang called ‘Uncharted’?”

The man opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Just the soft click of his tongue failing him.

Then came the final sound.

A single gunshot.

BOOM.

One bullet. Clean through the trash can—and the skull behind it.

The body slumped forward, twitching once before going still. A small pool of blood began to form, stretching out slowly like it wanted to escape but couldn’t.

Draco stepped over it. Unbothered. Untouched.

He lit a cigarette and took one drag, eyes barely flinching in the smoke.

“Cowards don’t speak,” he muttered to no one.

“Only corpses do.”

He walked away, the sound of his boots echoing long after his shadow disappeared

Back at the base, the air was thick with smoke, curling lazily toward the ceiling like ghosts of your thoughts. You lay on the bed, half-dressed, a cigarette between your lips, and melancholic music spilling softly from the speakers—slow, somber, almost too fitting. The kind that echoes in your chest long after the last note fades.

Your eyes were open, unfocused, tracing the cracks in the ceiling you never bothered to fix.

You never expected acceptance.

Not really.

Not with a last name like yours, Not with blood on your hands before you were even old enough to shave, You were born into shadows, and whether it was loyalty or fear, people never truly saw you.

They saw Draco’s heir.

They saw the empire.

They saw the violence, the weight, the name.

But you accepted it—because it came with privilege, with power. And power costs. You knew that. You’ve always known.

Still…

Even her?

Even Karina?

She didn’t flinch the first few times. She smiled, even. Laughed when you brought her snacks. Teased you for your coat. Gave you something you never knew you missed—normalcy. Something soft.

But now?

Now, there’s a distance in her eyes. A hesitation in her voice. Like she’s already writing the ending in her head.

You couldn’t blame her. Who would want to be tangled in this world?

Who would want to love a man who can kill and smile in the same breath?

You inhaled, the tip of your cigarette glowing red in the dark. You watched the smoke drift away, disappearing into nothing.

Just like the idea of her staying.

You told yourself it was fine.

You’ve been alone before.

You’ve lived in silence before.

You’ll do it again.

But the thing about softness is… once you’ve felt it, it hurts more when it’s gone.

And she was the softest thing you’ve ever known.

Nightfall. 3:12 AM. Somewhere in Seoul.

A concrete room dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. Cigarette smoke hung like a veil in the air, curling around the edge of Suijoon’s jaw as he leaned over the table — maps, surveillance photos, red circles scratched in anger around one girl’s face.

Karina Yu.

“Convenience store clerk,” he muttered, tracing her image with a gloved finger. “Works the graveyard shift. No parents. In debt. No one to miss her.”

He looked up at the handful of men standing before him — all in black, armed to the teeth, faces cold, eager. A smaller man handed him a tablet — CCTV footage. Y/N and Karina, smiling, eating tteokbokki. Another angle — Y/N shielding her behind the counter when the gunfire broke loose. Suijoon sneered.

“Draco’s heir… falling for a stray. How poetic,” he said bitterly, snapping the tablet shut. “This girl? She’s not just leverage anymore. She’s the wound. And you don’t beat the heir by going for the head. You beat him by infecting the heart.”

He walked to the weapons rack, grabbing a knife, then a silencer-equipped pistol. He flipped the safety, slow and deliberate.

“We won’t kill her. Not yet,” he said darkly. “We grab her. Make it public. Let the son of Draco come crawling.”

A grunt of agreement echoed around the room.

“But sir…” one man dared to speak. “Didn’t the boss say not to—”

“The boss,” Suijoon interrupted, stepping forward until their foreheads nearly touched, voice low, venomous, “doesn’t have the balls to end this war.”

He stepped back, smile forming like a crack across ice.

“I do.”

He turned to the group. “Gear up. Black vans. No masks. We’re not hiding this. I want him to know.”

He lit another cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his eyes — wild, cruel, desperate to prove something.

“Tonight,” Suijoon said, exhaling smoke like a devil whispering prophecy,

“we cut out his heart.”

Back at the estate, you were still lying on your back, smoke curling lazily into the ceiling, headphones on as melancholic jazz hummed through the room—your only comfort lately. You hadn’t seen Karina in days. Not really. Not like before. Her eyes no longer lingered. Her smile no longer reached you. You couldn’t blame her. Who would want to love the heir of Korea’s most feared mafia?

Suddenly, the door burst open.

“Sir!” Jun-ho shouted, breathless, eyes wide. “We’ve got movement. Four black vans. Same make. Same pattern. They’re circling Gangseo District. Near the convenience store.”

You sat up instantly, gun already in hand. “Karina.”

Jun-ho nodded grimly. “Yes, sir. They’re after her.”

You stormed down the hallway, boots heavy with urgency. Just as you neared the armory entrance—thud.

You bumped shoulders with a tall figure standing in your path.

Killian Draco.

Sharp suit, colder eyes. A calm storm in human skin. He lit a cigarette slowly, took a drag, and exhaled in your face.

“Where do you think you’re going, son?”

“I don’t have time—”

“You make time,” he cut in coldly. “For me.”

Silence swelled.

“Don’t do this,” he continued. “She means nothing. A girl scraping for debt. A pawn they’ll use the second they realize she matters to you. Is that what you want?”

“She’s not a pawn. She’s—”

“She’s a weakness,” Draco interrupted. “And love? Love is an art of vulnerability. Loving means weakness. And I didn’t raise a weak little squirt.”

You glared at him, chest heaving. “You didn’t raise me, you dumbass!”

His eyes narrowed.

“You taught me how to kill, how to gut a man, how to clean up blood without flinching. But you didn’t raise me. You raised a weapon. She’s the only human thing I have left.”

Draco’s jaw clenched. His voice dropped. “You think you’re different from me. You’re not. You carry my blood. You love her now? Good. Watch what happens when they put a gun to her head because of it.”

“I’d rather die trying to save her than live like you—numb and alone.”

He stepped aside slowly, his expression unreadable. “Then go. Save her.”

You moved past him, steps furious—but he called out behind you, voice like frost cutting the air:

“But remember this, son… If she brings war to our house, if your heart turns into our downfall…”

He turned, smoke dancing from his cigarette like a curse.

“Then I’ll end it. Even if that means you.”

You didn’t look back.

You just ran

You ran.

Through alleys slick with rain and streets that smelled like metal and neon. Your breath came in sharp bursts. Your coat, half-soaked, flared behind you like a shadow chasing a ghost.

You turned the corner.

The convenience store.

Lights flickering inside, humming faintly under the pale glow of the streetlamp. But something felt off.

You pushed the door.

Ding. The chime echoed like a scream in an empty church.

No footsteps.

No soft hum of Karina’s voice singing under her breath.

No rustle of snack wrappers or the tap-tap-tap of her scanning items at the counter.

Just silence.

And blood in your throat.

“Karina?” your voice cracked.

Behind the register, taped sloppily onto the plexiglass, was a note. Scribbled in red ink.

You yanked it free.

“Looking for your little night clerk?

Should’ve kept her hidden, heir.

You want her back? Come bleed for her.

— Suijoon.”

Your fists clenched so hard the paper crumpled, veins pulsing like live wires.

And in that moment, everything else — the mafia code, your father’s warnings, the war it might start — it all drowned under one truth:

He took her.

And you’re going to burn the whole fucking world to get her back.

[grapejuicestyless]

Happier

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is not happy, despite the smile etched into her face, and nobody can see that, nobody but Harry, who can’t seem to express his concern in a gentle way.

“You look happier.”

What am I supposed to say to that? Thank you? I don’t mean to be mean when nobody meant any harm, but it feels so casually cruel for someone to pick up on the way I’ve changed and mistake my spiraling for happiness.

I don’t know the true shape of my face. My cheeks were round most of my life, meant to be kneaded between the fingers of my working class grandmother while she baked in the kitchen, but more recently the skin has fallen from the bone and what was once rolled between wrinkled fingers is tighter to my face as it strangles me from the inside out.

I don’t recognize myself either. Maybe I never did, because even when I search for the girl I once was, I can never seem to find her. I remember running around as a child with my best friend, the grass stains on my jeans and the holes in my sweater from tug of war’s in his backyard. She was happy, even if she looked tired. She was the happiest I’d ever been, but she was so young. She hadn’t found herself yet and maybe that’s what made life so good, the ignorance of the real world and how it would shape her.

Maybe the real me is the person who reaches out to her friends when she misses them, or maybe its the girl who counted down the days to her seventeenth birthday so she could finally relate to the lyrics of Dancing Queen and mean it finally. But maybe it’s the girl who sits in bed staring at the ceiling wondering why she never made it where everyone else was going. Maybe it’s the girl who wished her mother cared just a little bit more to stop comparing her to her “smarter” friends when she was twelve.

So maybe I do look happy, maybe I am happy. Maybe I have never felt happy before and maybe that’s why I feel so conflicted about if I truly am or if I am just projecting it out to seem that way.

“Harry.”

I call into the darkness, wandering the house party in a sweaty costume sticky with splashes of beer on the fabric, only half of the costume I came with.

The hallway is long and winding, but it always feels that way when I’m not exactly sure if I’m going in the right direction.

“Harry?” I call out again, spotting the other half of my costume.

“Y/n.” He smiles with a sigh, like even though the smoke between his fingers is taking off the edge, I’ve just calmed the entire air surrounding him. For me, it’s the same feeling. When he’s near, everything seems to slow down for a moment. After about the thousandth comment on how much better I looked from some friends of friends, he disappeared, and maybe that’s why their integrating looks bother me so much, because theres no hand to hold onto to distract me from myself.

I slide against the wall to sit with him, my eyes finding purchase on the same cracks across the thin hallway as he did, and the warm blunt being lazily passed from his fingers to mine.

“I think you’re rubbing all your glitter onto my pants.” he breathes out casually into the comfortable silence. I feel the tension in my shoulders expand before fading.

“I think it’s in my eyes too.”

“Just when I thought they couldn’t shine any brighter.” Harry lifts his hand to hook his index finger around my chin, smiling like an idiot when he sees my lips curl comfortably around the joint.

“Well, maybe I feel better than usual. It’s finally reflecting back to you.”

I joke, feeling sick as I recall the conversation from before. I look happier, as if to suggest that before I was miserable, and even if they weren’t wrong about that, the fact that anyone could read that without a second glance scared me. How a stranger could read me before I could.

“Well, you look like shit if you do.”

“Ouch, that obvious?”

“If I counted each time you rolled your eyes when someone told you that whole speech about how good you look, I’d run out of fingers.”

Harry laughs as he takes back the weed to finish it off. I’ve already drank more than him, so the sway in my body becomes more noticeable as the burn sears down my throat.

“It’s just so…wrong. I mean, I guess I feel okay, but do I really look good enough for all this praise?” I ask quietly into the night, my knees pressing against my chest as I hug my calves tightly between my sweaty palms.

“I think you’re very pretty, Y/n. You are pretty. But your face is changing and no amount of glitter can cover that up.” He tells me honestly, rubbing out the dying end onto his knee and sighing at the burn.

“If you still believe that then I haven’t used enough glitter.” I try to joke, to brush away the rising bile in my throat and tension in the air.

“You can fool anyone else, but I know you. Even if you’re not who you once were, I still know you because I love you.”

“Well you shouldn’t. I’m a leech. I’ll fucking suck up all the joy from your life until you’re too exhausted to leave.” I smiled at the ground drunkenly, head hung low and my eyes heavy.

“But I do. You’re my best friend and it’s pathetic how you let yourself fall so low.” Harry flicks out the end of the blunt, watching the ashes fall the floor and stain the carpet lining the thin hallway.

“I came to you for comfort, you know. Not to get drilled in a bunny costume.” I roll my eyes, the haze clearing at his bitter remarks.

“Well tough luck, I guess. You look like shit for a girl who everyone here thinks is so happy.” Harry looks at me, his hand moving to wipe away the glitter by my eye.

“I need air.” I stand up, almost stumbling against the faint curling of the carpet at the edges. It’s new and that’s how you can tell, it hasn’t fully sunken into the floor, and it’s such a shame that it’s forever stuck with the glitter from my costume and the ashes of Harry’s joint.

“You need help.”

I stop, and there’s a beat that passes.

“You’re a real asshole when you’re high, you know. I have my own shit, I don’t need to be taking yours too.” I smile at him, but only because he was smiling at me.

“Maybe I am.” He responds plainly, and when he looks the other way, I feel heavier than before, more picked apart than before, more vulnerable than before.

Theres a thousand eyes on my back just waiting for me to crack, like the chip in my tooth from how hard I’m smiling while talking to strangers about my hopeless life. And they all say I look happier.

“But y/n,” Harry calls out for me, and for a moment I believe he might apologize.

“You look happy.”

[sakura-gyarugal]

-Akatsuki randomness but it probably only makes sense to me-

Modern au I guess? Lowkey slander at some points. I love my boys tho- oh and very ooc

When going to brunch, Konan always makes sure to dress up while the rest of the members come in sweatpants and stains on their shirts. Excluding Itachi. He comes with a nice button up.

Kakuzu was definitely in the crypto and nft market not because he believed in it but because seeing all the idiots fall for it gave him an infinity money glitch

Kisame sings into the google microphone and expects the song to pop up. He also searches “song that go oh ohhh ohhh oh”

Sasori asked the group to use tone indicators and Deidara flat out says “slash joking” or “slash genuine”….like in real life

Hidan owns an Instagram account where he flexes in the camera with Russian phonk behind it. It has a stupid amount of flashes that he used from CapCut

Itachi sends inspirational quotes, good morning messages with a bunch of flowers, and stupid minion memes. Konan always hearts react while Deidara and Hidan skull react

Deidara is pretty handy in machinery, math, and chemistry but can’t make himself food without burning it…he’s so bad that he burns food in an airfryer

Already put this in a post like this before but Zetsu’s favorite movie is definitely smile, terrifier series, walrus, and the human centipede

Sasori has a really weak immune system and is constantly sniffling. He carries lysol and hand sanitizer everywhere

Deidara and Hidan quote things from Instagram reels and tiktok that literally no one else gets. A few things they constantly say: the yes king audios, are we deadass? jobs bro, never cook again, are you serious right now? I’m employed? What does this mean? The grandpa screaming at the camera saying “what!!!? oh hell nah!! Oh hell nah!!” They’re literally so insufferable

Orochimaru is an active member on Stan Twitter

Kisame owns Nike tech in every color 😔

Konan takes selfies with the group then blocks out their faces with a black square. Proceeds to mention everyone in the photo.

Yahiko def passed out getting his first piercing while konan and nagato held his hand.

Zetsu just says stuff when the room gets quiet. It’s always weird to. Then the silence gets more awkward.

Nagato cries to those sad dog commercials.

Deidara gets his accounts suspended every month for “hate speech” he simply makes a new account and continues hating.

Hidan definitely pointed to a person wearing a band shirt and said “name five songs”

Kakuzu lives on Facebook marketplace. He buys the stupidest crap too. Like one day he came back with dinosaur statue and put it in display in his living room.

Obito refuses to buy new socks and underwear until it’s nothing but a string left. He’s just walking around with holes in his underwear and socks 😭

Itachi is lowkey lactose intolerant. That doesn’t stop him from eating his favorite desserts

Sasori is allergic to everything. He uses it for his benefit. “Sorry guys can’t come today. The air is very dry therefore I have to stay inside.”

Yahiko used to be so many girls MySpace crushes

Itachi uses the fanciest colognes, hair care, skin care, etc. when the other members come over, they go immediately to his room and starting showering themselves in his expensive stuff 😭

Kisame does not play about his car. No eating, no drinking, and if you park too close to his car he’s going to leave a note on the windshield.

Konan is not motherly toward the group. In fact, she’s the ones that suggest them to do stupid crap. Oh, you think you can make the jump 6ft in the air? Hell yeah. Itachi is the voice of reason in the group.

Zetsu is probably on a stupid carnivore diet and tries to convince the other members to do it with him. Sometimes you see him sitting in the dark eating a stick of butter.

Obito goes on reddit for help. Like…for everything. “Am I the asshole for asking out my female friend for the 100th time after she told me no when she was 13?” “My left arm goes numb. Is that cancer?”

Deidara has the entire group as his close friends story but he posts the most mediocre content ever….like why are you posting your chipotle bowl with a sad song? No cares buddy

Kakuzu has all the members blocked unless he needs something

Sasori believes he’s like Dr house…he is not. He’s more like young Sheldon.

Nagato sucks at keeping secrets and lying. He turns bright red and starts itching making it very obvious

Hidan is banned from public libraries across the country

Itachi does audiobooks.

Kakuzu definitely pirates movies. He also brings full entrees to the movie theaters along with his camera.

Deidara has an instagram where he posts his cat, photos of himself, Hidan, clay projects with the stupidest captions. He always has foreigners in his comments like “?” Or “guys don’t translate the caption” or “what does this mean?”

Sasori and Itachi leave yelp reviews if they hate the service. Itachi will be more easy on it like, “The service wasn’t very great and I found the food to be a little underwhelming but appreciated the atmosphere of the restaurant.” Whereas Sasori is like, “the chicken is fucking disgusting. How hard is it to cook chicken? The owner and his chefs should kill themselves. In fact I hope you die by your uncooked chicken.”

Konan has a deep hatred from booktok yet she reads the books just to see if they’re really that bad

Nagato got a haircut but was too shy to say it looked bad and proceeded to cry in his car

Orochimaru posts freaky trap posts on tiktok with grandmas commenting “😍😍😍”

Obito probably owns a cybertruck

It takes Deidara an hour to be fully coherent after waking up. If you ask him a question he’s either going to grunt, glare at you, or slowly blink

Hidan bought his fur jacket off of depop…or he robbed someone. Who knows.

Kisame wears shirts with stupid quotes on them like “women love me. Fish fear me.”

Hidan was playing candy crush on kakuzu’s phone and had Kakuzu crashing out after Hidan used all of his combo candies

Deidara probably snatched a shirt from a kid because he believes he needs the sonic shirt (that fits like a crop top on him) more than the kid

Konan has those kpop key cards but instead it’s photos of Nagato and Yahiko

Obito likes girl bands. You just see this middle aged guy glowering and in his headphones it’s playing “flip that by loona”

Hidan has a streaming channel where he plays COD but it’s mainly him fighting with his viewers or trying to spread his religion. 5% gameplay 90% of yelling 5% reading his chats.

Kakuzu’s favorite show is the Atlanta housewives and sharktank.

[peachy-posy]

Counting Steps (Vash the Stampede x Reader)

Summary: While traveling with Vash, you get a wound and decide to hide it from him.

A/N: Howdy! This is my first Trigun fic, please be nice hehe. This was originally written with Tri Stamp Vash in mind, but then it turned into me mixing him with 98 Vash, and so now we have this.

I'm considering making a little series about the reader and Vash because I am so whipped for this silly blonde man, the brain rot is insane. If that's something you'd be interested in lmk!

I hope you guys like it <3 ALSO this was cross-posted to my AO3

Warnings: Mild violence, mild blood/injury, fainting

Word Count: 2.5k

This was inspired by this quote from @creativepromptsforwriting: “When were you going to tell me you were bleeding? When you’re already dead?!”

98. 99. That’s another 100 steps. Start over.

You grit your teeth, clutching your side fiercely. Luckily, you are wearing black, so Vash hadn’t seen the sticky, dark stain appear. Your faithful traveling companion walks several paces ahead of you, leading the two of you to a nearby settlement. You couldn’t be that far away now, right? God, you hope not. 

You lose your footing, stumbling briefly before catching yourself. White hot pain shoots through your abdomen, and you can’t stop the hiss that slides out between your teeth. Fortunately, Vash doesn’t seem to be able to hear it over the sounds of the wind. A bead of sweat rolls down your face, and you pause, allowing yourself to pant for a moment. Not for long, though. You have to keep moving.

Counting your steps in increments of 100 has been your method of keeping yourself focused. It was a simple task, something to devote all of yourself to for the time being. If you could keep going, one step at a time, you knew you could make it to the town. 

17. 18. 19. That’s another 20.

Your mind wanders to the very situation that caused you to get an injury in the first place. What a mess today has been. 

You have been traveling with the infamous Vash the Stampede for months at this point. Shootouts and run-ins with bandits and bounty hunters made for another Tuesday. Usually, that was no problem for you guys. You knew your way around a gun and could certainly hold your own, so what the fuck happened today?

30. 31. 32.

The two of you had stopped at a small plant you’d come across while traveling in the desert, thinking it was a good chance to take a breather. Little did you know, you were walking right into a stick-up, with a small group of bandits robbing a family that had stopped there as well. You and Vash stepped in quickly to help, easily incapacitating the bandits. Vash’s attention readily became focused on helping out the family, noticing that the oldest child had gotten a gash on the head.

Allowing Vash to handle the damage control inside, you had stepped back outside to catch your breath. You walked over to the side of the building, leaning against it and resting in the shadow it produced. Out of the corner of your eye, though, you saw movement. Apparently, there was another person involved that had slipped away. You sprung into action, running around the building to where you’d seen the figure disappear. After that, everything happened really fast.

The man was quick, and he lunged at you with startling speed. You were able to dodge the initial thrust of his knife towards your gut, but you didn’t sidestep fast enough, feeling the blade tear a gash into your side. The adrenaline in your system helped you to ignore the pain, and you whipped around, kicking the knife out of his hand and twisting his arm behind his back. Before he knew it, you had him pinned on the ground, arms pulled uncomfortably behind his back. Drawing your small revolver from its holster, you swiftly hit the back of his head with the grip, feeling his body go limp under you. 

After he passed out, the tension left your body and you leaned back with a sigh. It was at this point that you started to feel the sharp, stinging pain radiating from your side. Glancing down with a wince, you moved your jacket aside, laying your eyes on the gash that had been so generously given to you by your friend here. Because you wore your jacket open, it looked like it had blown out of the way and been spared by the blade. So, at the very least, you wouldn’t be spending the evening sewing the jacket up. Your body was a different story, unfortunately.

It was a small, but deep, clean cut. It wasn’t anything worse than what you’ve had before. But, it would definitely need some stitches. You were almost positive you could patch this up with the first aid kit inside. 

You released your jacket, heaving yourself off the ground with some effort, applying pressure to the wound. Once on your feet, you made your way back around front, finding the entrance to the small building. 

Vash was crouched, chatting to the teary-eyed children, calming them down with a practiced ease that came from many years of experience around kids. He smiled at them, and said something that drew a giggle from the children. Their parents watched from nearby with grateful smiles, eventually pulling him into a conversation with them as well. A soft smile formed on your lips, as it often did when you saw him have these types of interactions. 

Your pain brought you back down to reality though, and you grimaced. Your eyes scanned the room for the first aid kit, and you found it lying on a small table. You quietly walked over, and immediately grabbed some gauze to hold against the wound. You sifted through the contents, searching for the thread, knowing you definitely had some. It wasn’t until you remembered that one of the kids had gotten a cut to the head that you turned around, seeing the last of your thread stitched up in a wound already. Vash might be holding onto some more, but even if he were, it likely wouldn’t be enough. 

Well. Shit.

You faced away from everyone again, trying to think of what to do. You were less than half a day’s walk from the next town. You didn’t have any supplies other than some gauze that would help. Telling Vash would worry him, and he’d definitely want to carry you the rest of the way, even though you knew his prosthetic had been causing him soreness recently. 

You were just gonna have to suck it up and walk. You stuffed gauze into your pockets as discreetly as you could, before hearing your name called from behind you softly. You turned your head to the side, heart skipping a beat at seeing those gorgeous blue eyes gazing at you.

“Everything okay?” he asked quietly, concern creasing his brow. You wanted to reach out and smooth your fingers over it, not wanting him to worry about anything. 

Instead, you gave him a convincing smile. “Yeah. I found another guy outside. We should probably tie him up with the others before leaving.” The person running the plant assured you both that they would be fine while they waited for authorities to arrive to take the men away. You made sure your body was angled to where he couldn’t see your bloody hand or the gauze. 

He raised his eyebrows, surprised to have missed one, but ultimately nodded, letting you know he’d take care of it. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mayfly. I’m getting sloppy!” he joked, and you’d giggled in reply, heart fluttering every time he called that. It was just friendly, of course. Because that’s all you were - friends.

That’s another 60 steps. Or was it 70?

You jam your eyes shut, breathing through the worsening pain. You sigh defeatedly. You ran out of gauze an hour ago. The bleeding has slowed, but not fully stopped. Not with all of the pulling from walking. At least the sun is starting to go down, giving you a break from this damned heat. 

You look up, seeing Vash’s back ahead, his red coat blowing gently in the wind. The distance is getting greater between the two of you. You’re starting to regret not filling him in about your situation. After noticing your silence not long into the walk, he’d asked once more if everything was all right. You smiled, told him you were fine, and that you’d tell him later tonight. He accepted that begrudgingly, giving you a Look, but had ultimately given you space.

You stop walking, your breathing uneven and heavy. Your vision wasn’t quite right either… had you really lost that much blood? The chill settling into your bones screams ‘yes’ at you. Vash is getting too far away. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You feel your body trembling, and you close your eyes, a dull ringing in your ears beginning. Your grip on the gauze pressed into your side is getting looser, but you’re starting to care less. It’s not like it’s working anyway.

You are startled out of your thoughts by the feeling of hands gripping your upper arms. You gasp, opening your eyes, struggling to get them to focus for a moment. Once they do, you see Vash in front of you. His mouth is moving, and he looks worried. Oh. They’re his hands, you note, glancing at his arms. 

The ringing in your ears subsides enough that you can hear his voice again. He’s calling your name.

“…you okay? What’s wrong?” He asks, searching your eyes.

“Huh?” You manage eloquently.

He sighs, closing his eyes, but he doesn’t let go of you. “You’ll be the death of me, Mayfly. What’s wrong?” He asks. “I know you said you’d tell me later, and, well, it’s technically later now, so…” he trails off, but his words have an expectant tone to them. This doesn’t really seem to be something he wants to budge on.

Not that you’re planning on withholding what’s happening at this point. You are almost certain you’ll pass out here soon. 

“Um…” you start, averting your gaze. Finally, he seems to notice the way you’re holding yourself. Specifically, the placement of your arm, tucked into your jacket. His expression shifts into something more knowing, and he seems to have caught on. 

He gently reaches down to pull your hand away so he can take a look, but as he does so, your knees buckle and you start a hard fall to the sandy ground. You shut your eyes, waiting for the impact that never comes, as you are wrapped up in a pair of strong arms before falling very far.

You are slowly lowered the rest of the way, and find yourself resting against Vash’s chest on the ground. He’s muttering something under his breath, and you’re murmuring an apology. He pulls your jacket back, sucking in a sharp breath when he sees the bloodied gauze.

“When were you going to tell me you’re bleeding? Once you were already dead?!” He asks, and yeah, you probably deserve that. He’s peeling back the gauze gingerly, scrutinizing the wound, concern etched into his gorgeous face. He’s talking, likely scolding you, but that annoying ringing in your ears is back, so you can’t hear him. You should not be thinking about how pretty he looks right now, but your vision is turning black and you don’t really care anymore. His head turns to face you, his eyes widening. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite identify.

 But everything feels heavy, and you are very tired. You slump into his chest, closing your eyes. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next thing you know, you are lying in an uncomfortable bed, tucked into itchy, white sheets. You groan, taking in how dry your mouth is and how bad your side hurts. 

Oh yeah.

You open your eyes, sitting up with a gasp. You blink hard to clear your vision, but curl into yourself as pain shoots through your abdomen. You feel a set of familiar hands take you by the shoulders.

“Woah! Take it easy! Just take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You feel one of the hands move from your shoulder to rub your back soothingly, and you look up. Those beautiful blue eyes meet yours, relief flooding his features. Vash murmurs your name with a relieved smile.

“There you are. Are you okay?” He asks softly, gently pushing you to lay back down. You put up no resistance.

“Yeah, just a bit sore,” you manage, glancing down to your wound. You move your hand to touch it, applying pressure experimentally, but he moves your hand away, holding onto it instead. Like a worried friend, you remind yourself. You take a moment to glance around the clinical-looking room, and think you already know the answer, but ask anyway. “Where are we?”

His thumb moves slowly across your knuckles, just like a friend would do. In a friendly way. “The local clinic. We weren’t very far out of town when you passed out. I just brought you here right away. That was last night.” His expression shifts from soft to scolding, and he runs his other hand through his blonde hair. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Don’t do that again!”

You offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Vash. We’d used the last of the thread for stitches on one of the children, and I thought I could tough it out.”

He stares at you, and you wilt a bit at his hurt expression. “Why wouldn’t you tell me though? We may not have been able to stitch you up right away, but I could have-“

“Carried me into town?” You finish, and he nods. You reach up, gingerly touching his prosthetic arm. His eyes widen slightly, not expecting your touch. “I know your arm has been bothering you lately, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

His expression softens endearingly once more at your reasoning, the look he’s giving you making you fall in love with him all over again. 

“Oh, Mayfly,” he murmurs, “let me decide what I can handle, okay? It wouldn’t have been so bad.”

You understand, but you also frown a bit at his words, raising an eyebrow at him. “But who looks after you? You have and would push yourself past every limit you have for the sake of someone else.” 

He sighs, but doesn’t deny what you say, either. “How about we work on compromising a bit? We’ll look after each other, and make sure we aren’t pushing ourselves too hard.”

You try to level him with a stare, but end up relenting with a sigh and a smile. “Fine.”

He smiles back at you, mirroring your tone. “Fine.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and it seems like something comes to his mind at that moment. His smile becomes something more like a smirk, and you regard him suspiciously. 

“What,” you deadpan, somewhat dreading whatever he has to say.

He props his elbows on your bed, resting his chin on his hands, leaning forward. 

“Nothing! I’m just flattered,” he replies, and you really, really don’t like the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“By…?” You ask, narrowing your eyes.

“I didn’t know you thought I was pretty.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. Of course you do. But you’d never just say that.

“Yeah, right.”

“No really! You said so yourself! Remember? Something like, ‘I should not be thinking about how pretty you look-’”

You choke, blushing furiously. Oh my god. Right before you passed out. You must’ve accidentally said that out loud, delirious.

 “I-I did not!” You sputter back, but you know it’s futile. He’s laughing too hard. You hate it, but even now, as he is laughing at you, you can’t help but love the sound of it. You’d do just about anything to keep him laughing and smiling like this.

He pokes your cheek, his laugh dying down. “For the record, I think you’re pretty too. ‘Specially when you’re blushing like this.”

Holy. Shit. 

Never mind. You wish you had bled out.

[angelllbby222]

Conflicted Chapter 31:

Maddy P.O.V

“I love you so much baby.” Izzy groaned as he rammed into me continuously, rocking the bed by his speed.

“I love you t-too.” I whimpered feeling my orgasm about to take over.

“Your never gonna leave me again right?”

Not even for him?” he whined almost pleading me to answer.

l was too euphoric to mutter a response as I felt Izzy sucking the sensitive parts of my neck.

Leaving them all bruised and purple.

“Say something Maddy please.” he urged not letting himself release until he heard exactly what he wanted from me.

“Yes. It’s you Izzy. It’s always been you.” I croaked looking up at him, pouting and seeing his hazel eyes that I missed so much.

He leaned in and gave me the sloppiest kiss, leaving strings of wetness as he pulled away and came inside of me making sure I took every last drop.

“Such a good girl f’me huh.” he said giving my ass a slap and plopping down beside me.

I quickly covered myself feeling sudden shame from being naked like this inside of a trailer with Izzy knowing my brother still wasn’t talking to me and here I was slutting it up with one of his best friends.

“What’s wrong?” Izzy asked as he sat up, grabbing his pants and slipping them on, letting them hang loosely around his waist as he let up a fresh cigarette.

“I feel guilty for doing this while Duff is still ignoring me.” I sighed feeling my lips pout and tears silently rolling down my cheek.

“Your grown enough to make your own decisions Maddy.”

“If Duff doesn’t approve he needs to get over it.” he replied gruffly.

“I know but he’s my brother Izzy. If he’s upset then it affects me too.” I replied angrily.

“Why are you being such a little girl over it. I didn’t get with you to handle your tantrums.”

“Why are you being so mean.” I huffed wiping my tear stained cheeks and climbing off the bed to confront him face to face.

“I’m not. I just think you’re overly sensitive and I don’t want to deal with a cry baby post fuck.” he casually responded letting out a cloud of smoke as he ran a hand through his black locks.

“You’re such a jerk.” I cried pushing him out of my way to exit the trailer.

I didn’t even know where to go since all the boys including my brother were rehearsing backstage so I just waited outside feeling helplessly guiltier by the second.

I was just another idiot who decided to sneak away with Izzy back into his bed. I didn’t even wanna leave my brother while he was practicing his drums because I planned on talking to him once and for all to figure things out.

But instead he caught a glimpse of Izzy kissing all over my neck while gripping my ass as we both snuck away to go to his trailer which I doubt my brother didn’t know of.

I heard the trailer door open and close.

Izzy came out to let me know he was going back to rehearse with the boys and asked if I wanted to join.

“I don’t feel comfortable being near you while you’re mad at me.” I retorted rolling my eyes at him like the dumb little girl I was.

I wasn’t even that much younger than him.

It was only a 6 year gap which he made seem like it was ages apart.

Twenty five and Nineteen weren’t that far apart.

Right?

“Come on. You know Duff will kill me for leaving you all alone out here.” he groaned.

“You don’t even care about me.” I said feeling utterly rejected at that point.

He came over towards me in long strides and pulled me up harshly by my arms placing of his arms on my lower back squishing me all the way into him while having the other hand on my cheek.

“What don’t you understand Maddy. I don’t act this way with any girl.”

“I don’t even have any emotions towards the girls I fuck or that try and talk to me.”

“You make me feel so many different emotions at once I don’t know how to act sometimes. I know I shout at you but I really feel something for you that I’ve never felt with any girl which drives me crazy especially when Duff says I can’t be around you.”

“I’m so in love with you. I want to fuck you and make love to you at the same time all the damn time. I want to kiss you everywhere when I see you. You’re always so fucking beautiful and sexy. And you have the sweetest personality which is the total opposite of me. You’re so fucking nice it kills me sometimes because I could never be that nice to you but that’s why I want to be around you all the time because you pull me in with your sweetness. You make me feel so good about myself, like someone genuinely cares for me.”

“God I wish I could fuck you right here against this trailer so everyone can see how much I want to make you mine.” he grunted swiping his tongue on my lips until I parted them feeling his tongue against mine.

“Izzz. Someone will see us.” I giggled against his kisses.

“That’s what makes it so fun baby.” he groaned grabbing my legs to wrap around his waist as he grinded his erection against me.

The parking lot where all the bands had parked their trailers was silent expect for small “uh, uh, uh.” whimpers that left my mouth like a chorus.

Izzy had me pinned against GNR’s trailer with my tiny skirt hiked up, rubbing my pussy up and down his clothed erection keeping my legs tightly gripped.

“Give it to me baby. Cream all over my fucking pants.” he grunted pinning me against the trailer further to help grip me as I bounced up and down feeling my pussy get slicker with the friction of his jeans.

“Izzy?”

“Is that you man?” Duff barked as he saw me looking disheveled and seeing my ass out as I bounced up and down Izzy.

“S-stop stop. Put me down Iz .” I gasped slightly out of breath due to the nature of our activities.

“I’m gonna fucking murder you.” my brother muttered watching as I fixed my clothes into place while Izzy readjusted himself in his pants rolling his eyes.

“It’s not like she didn’t want it Duff.” he said shaking him off.

“Fuck you motherfucker.” was the last thing Izzy heard as he fell to the ground.

authors note

wht did we think :)) i’m back! i’ve been rlly busy w school so apologies!