#Why. Why. Why. What is wrong with you. What the fuck

[neilsbeloved]

get the job done

summary: every night, clark feels bits of his sanity chip away as he has to involuntarily listen to your moans and whimpers despite being miles away from you. he doubts he can control himself any longer especially with a familiar red stone hanging around his neck.

pairing: red k!clark kent x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ / smut with no plot / oral (f) / dubious consent / use of vibrators / unprotected sex (no male cum) / voyeurism (i think) / overstimulation / inappropriate use of superhuman hearing / size kink / clark competes with a vibrator / competitive clark / mutual masturbation / big dick clark fr / mentions of using somebody’s moans to get off

Clark Kent is the best college roommate you could ever ask for.

He cleaned, he cooked, he has cool parents that always sends him freshly baked goods—and above all, he's always down to get you your art supplies whenever you run out of them in the middle of the night.

Though, you always wondered how he manages to get to the edge of the city then back to the dorm in less than ten minutes. Whenever you did that, it took you at least an hour. You didn't question him about it though, you figured there so much more things to worry about than your roommate being Sonic the Hedgehog's cousin.

Clark could say the same for you.

Never asks questions, keeps your hands to your own things, washes the dishes when it piles up, always offers your help whenever he and his journalist friends needs it—it's a breeze living with you.

Well, almost.

Whenever the clock hits twelve and you bring out your friend from underneath your bed, it's the only time Clark wishes he can fully block out his superhearing; give you your privacy and let him fall asleep without having to hear of your hushed breaths and restricted moaning.

Why not leave? Clark could easily super-speed out of the dorm room then come back after you're done.

He did that before already. Running off to the farm in Smallville to sleep in his own room, barely alerting you that he did. It worked for the first few minutes. He was able to get some quiet, got to close his eyes, relax—everything.

However, just as he was about to fall into sleepland, your voice invades his head again. The intensity of your voice seemingly felt like he's doing it intentionally; zeroing on your voice despite the distance he willingly put between the two of you.

With his cock hardening every second he heard your voice desperately calling for him, he couldn't help but be forced to relieve some of the pressure using your moans, no matter how against the idea he was.

The next night he left the dorm, he tried going as far as the Fortress of Solitude. Sitting just outside of the grand palace, head in his hands, eyes closed thinking he finally escaped the threshold of your sounds.

Unfortunately, that breathy voice of yours saying Keep going, Clark, you're fucking me so well proved him wrong.

Clark strolls back inside of the dorm, bag slung over his shoulders after he had just finished his last class for the day. You immediately appear into his view, nose deep into your drafting table, sparing him a quick glance.

"You don't look nice. Didn't sleep well?" You chime, voice characteristically monotonous.

Clark sighs. His shoulder slumping down as he takes a seat on his desk, rubbing his face in his hands. "Not really. I was caught up on some midterm review last night."

"Midterm review?" You furrow your eyebrows, "Oh! Is that why you weren't here last night?"

"L-last night? I was here." Clark clears his throat.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow as you throw him a look over your shoulder. "Dude, I woke up at like three in the morning and your bed was empty. Hours later you're back on your bed snoring."

He raises an eyebrow at you.

"Don't worry, Clark. You don't have to tell me if you're sneaking out," you say teasingly, only to laugh loudly when you see Clark roll his eyes at you.

Only if you knew what he was doing out of the dorm.

The both of you began working in silence, occasionally bringing up some mundane things to talk about like what the two of you are having for dinner, or if either of you are going to a party you got invited to.

"Why ask me, aren't you and that dude in finance going out?" Clark asks, stretching his arms up while dropping his pen on his notebook.

You grimace, shaking your head. "He spilled coffee on a plate I was supposed to submit."

"That's gotta leave a mark," Clark hoots, throwing you over a look before laughing. Very much entertained at the way you glared at him to shut up. "What'd you do about it?"

"What else was I supposed to do? I left his sorry ass in the cafe, Jesus." You huff irritatedly, scratching the side of your head with the tip of your pencil. "Every man's either stupid or reckless, usually it's both."

"No argument from me there," he responds, reminding you once more why you enjoyed having him as a roommate.

After another round of silence, his phone rings in an awfully loud ballad ringtone.

Whenever that ringtone sounds, you know it's that blonde named Chloe. While in other cases where it's a White Snake ringtone, it's definitely Chloe's cousin Lois. You, on the other hand, picked out the Mario Kart theme song as your designated ringtone after finding out about Clark's little habit of assigning a specific ringtone to a person.

"It's Chloe, she needs me at the Planet." Clark says with a nod, closing his notebooks shut and grabbing his jacket. Before he leaves, Clark calls for you. "Oh—and I might spend the night back at the farm. I need to help my dad out with something so… I'll just bring you some muffins."

When he sees you raise a thumbs up, Clark nods, locking the door shut as he left.

Fuck, Clark, keep going.

Don't stop.

Mhm, just like that!

Your voice rang in his ears. Constant cries of his name falling from your lips like an endless prayer.

Clark's jaw ticks, resisting the urge to let the growl in his throat free as the bartender over the counter looks at him with concern. "You okay, Kal?" The red rings in Clark's pupils flicker dangerously. The Kryptonian downing the shot in one straight swig, barely even affected by the lousy human alcohol.

"Never better," Clark says, jerking his head for another shot.

Yesyesyes—Shit, Clark—

The marble counter cracks under Clark's hold. His eyebrows knitted in concentration as he tried to block out your sounds. As beautiful and dirty they were, this wasn't the time nor the place he should be hearing them.

He swears, one more whimper of his name and he'll—

O-oh! I'm almost there, please…

"Keep it," Clark slams a hundred dollar bill he stole from someone in the club, the bartender looking at him confusedly. Before he gets to ask him, Clark had already dashed away.

When he arrives, his mouth falls open in utter surprise.

You laid there naked, legs spread, your cunt out in display for anyone to see. The pink toy in your hand pressed firmly on the quivering mess in between your thighs. Your cheeks were dusted with color, eyes closed shut, lips wide and spilling all sorts of moans and pleas.

One hand was on the pink toy, the other was busy fondling your breasts. Rolling your firm nipple in between your fingers as the coil in your stomach tightened by the second.

"Oh—mmhm—fuck! Almost there, almost there… godgodgo—" A silent scream breaks through you, your hips stuttering a few times before you ultimately shake on the mattress. Legs clamping around the pink toy as spots of white appeared in your vision.

Clark's name leaves your throat, smothered by the pillow you grabbed beside you.

Then, you hear a voice from the corner: "Aww, c'mon now, angel, don't cover your mouth."

You stiffen, body shooting up in alert. Your eyes drifting to the figure at the corner of the room; his legs were spread apart, big hand holding his even bigger cock as he shamelessly runs it up and down the length. Deep groans emitting from his every movement.

It's Clark, your roommate.

He's jerking himself off in the corner of your damn dorm room.

"What? Don't stop on my accord, angel. Keep going," he shrugs indifferently. Lips pulling into a smile that urges you to continue. "Oh c'mon… do you want me to beg for it, angel? Beg for you to continue pleasuring that little cunt of yours until that gadget finally makes you come?"

Your cheeks heat up with the vulgarity of his words. Clark doesn't even use curse words on a normal day,  hearing these stuff come out of him now is bizarre.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about, Clark."

Clark chuckles at you, deep and pointed, letting go of his cock and standing up to start walking towards you. Your legs close out of instinct, nuzzling them both to your chest as Clark sits a feet away from you, right by your feet.

He catches your lust-blown eyes in his, only to glance down on your lips, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Angel, let's not fool ourselves here. I know you've been fucking yourself every night thinking of me. Picturing my mouth…" he runs a finger on your exposed knee, "…my fingers…" he flicks his attention back up, noticing the way your breathing slowly clipped and your eyes glued on his member. "…and of course, my cock."

You shake your head at the last bit, trying to get some sense back into your brain. Telling yourself over and over again that this has got to be some sort of nightmare—or dream, actually.

"You think that little toy of yours is enough to satisfy your needs—but no, it's isn't, angel." Clark nears his face to yours, the manly scent of his aftershave invading your senses. "Not even close."

He pulls away with a smirk, enjoying the way your legs clenched together with just his mere words.

"C-Clark…" you breathe out, trying your best to sound composed. But it's hard, especially when your roommate—the very one you've been fantasizing about—is sitting in front you with his hard cock in display. "We shouldn't do this."

The man in front of you scoffs, an air of smugness surrounding him. "Why not?" He asks you softly, "You didn't seem to have a problem crying out my name a second ago."

You open your mouth to respond but he beats you to it.

"I'm betting you anything in the world that if I pry these legs of your apart," he places a hand on your knee, "Your pussy would be dripping wet."

You don't respond anymore—you don't think you can. Your head is spinning with everything that's happening. You just wanted to get your release for the night, not get tangled up with Clark-on-viagra.

But you can't say that it didn't intrigue you.

This version of Clark—the way his voice went deeper than it usually did, the blazing hot presence he carried himself with—you can't say that it didn't make the mess between your legs ache even harder.

The way he watched you like a predator watching his prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce on you—it was fucking hot.

"So what do you say, angel? Are you gonna let me show you how much better I am than that lousy gadget of yours, or are you gonna stick with that?"

Your response? A wordless one as you spread your knees apart, letting him see every inch of you from your glistening cunt to your stiff peaks. Clark's eyes glow red, his sharp canines coming into view as he zeroes in on your puffy clit, begging to be tended to.

"Good choice, angel," he grins, kicking off the rest of his pants before lying down in front of you.

Clark's head is face-to-face with your pussy. His arms wraps around on both of your thighs in a secure grip before he dives in.

His tongue finds your clit with practiced ease, swirling the wet muscled around it, alternating between sucking and licking before you start to feel the tip of his fingers prod at your hole.

"Oh my god," you gasp, the quick rising of your orgasm has you gripping the sheets in ecstasy. "Keep doing that… keep—keep your mouth on that clit, Clark." You feel him chuckle against your pussy, finding the way you're instructing him adorable.

It's not Clark's first encounter with pussy. And it's definitely not Kal-El's too.

He looks at you, making sure you keep your eyes on him before he thrusts one finger inside of you. He barely lets you adjust on his thick finger as he goes right into fucking it in and out of you while he sucked on your clit.

Your legs shake uncontrollably around his face, trying desperately to clamp around his head but his arms are stopping you. The muscles of his biceps flexing harshly.

Clark puts in another finger, testing your hole with his thick fingers as he keeps his eyes locked onto the delicious upturn of your eyebrows. The walls of your shared dormitory now filled with your shameless moans.

"Right there!" You gasp, darting out to grab his wrist as you began meeting his thrusts with your hips. "So… sosososo—fucking good, Clark."

"Yeah? How good?"

"Incredible," you breathe.

The knot in your core tightens, your walls clamps down on his fingers greedily.

"Better than your toy?" He arches an eyebrow.

You don't answer, your mind currently running in circles as you focus on the overwhelming sensation in your pussy.

Clark's eyes narrow, teeth coming in contact with your clit as you writhe. "Asked you a question."

"Better! It's… ohh fuck…" your mouth falls open, feeling the finish line near.

Clark grins, looking at you with satisfaction. "It's about to get better." he flicks his tongue in continuous strokes, making up for the bite before he starts thrusting his fingers into you. Making sure your wetness trails down the fluffy covers of your bed for tomorrow's reminiscing. "Come all over my hand, angel. I want you to make a mess of yourself."

You do as he says, your legs giving out as you feel a rush of pleasure shoot through your core. Your eyes squeezing shut as a broken cry of his name falls from your lips.

Not even a second later, you already feel Clark cleaning you up with his tongue. Greedily licking up every bit of come that oozes out of your hole, caring about nothing else aside from making sure he gets every drop. No matter how hard you pull at his hair, pushing him away from further overstimulating you, it practically does nothing as Clark's strength overpowers you.

Next thing you know, you're convulsing around his tongue again, this time, faster than you ever did on your vibrator.

Your voice is hoarse by the time Clark pulls away from you. Your thighs tensing involuntarily as he finally lets go of his superhuman hold on them. The lower half of his face is drenched in your release, glistening again the smooth skin of his chin.

He moves up to you, hungrily taking you in a lust-filled kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue—sweet, mildly salty, and very messy.

"Not done yet, angel. Fun's just started," he grins, running his tongue over his sharp canines.

God if that didn't make you ache even more.

You let him pull you closer to him, the weight of his cock resting idly on your pussy. The sheer length of his cock making you squirm in place. Clark only chuckles, giving you a few slaps to side of your thighs.

"Don't worry, angel," you start to feel his tip run up and down your slit. Clark's forehead creasing as he dips back down to angle his hips so that your wetness coats the outside of his cock.

You gulp. The air gets knocked out of your chest the moment you feel the first two inches inside of you.

"Oh god," you cry out, holding onto Clark's biceps. "Clark, you're… Fuck—I can't—"

"You can, angel. Just a little more, c'mon. You can take dear ole roommate inside that greedy cunt," Clark grunts, nose scrunching up as he looks at you with nothing but lust.

He pushes in further, and when you've thought his fully inside you, he's still pushing in.

"God, Clark, how fucking big are you?" You can't help but let it out, too overwhelmed by the stretch in your cunt to even care about your words.

Clark smirks, "Big enough for you to take, angel."

You finally feel him bottom out, and it's like your heart shoved up your throat.

"How's it feel, angel?"

Your walls flutter around his cock as a response. A deep growl ripping through Clark's throat the moment you do.

"I'm takin' that as a yes to move, angel. Now, if you wanna be naughty and muffle your moans," he drops his eyes to your swollen lips, "Feel free to bite me."

He begins moving at a brutal pace. Pounding in and out of you with much force that your bed frame's hitting the wall in loud clashes. Clark sucks on his teeth as he goes delirious over your tightness, losing the grip he has on himself the longer that he keeps fucking into you.

"Clark! That… nhhngg—feels so fuckin' good, givin' it to me so—so fucking good baby," you ramble, saying the only words that you know at the moment.

The red rings in Clark's eyes pulses, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. Losing yourself to the pleasure as sobs of his name fill the small space. He feels more energy surge through his body, fucking his thick cock into you with much more vigor until you feel his balls slap onto your ass with every thrust.

Your core tightens, the knot in your stomach coming way earlier than you want it—you can't stop it, the way Clark's fucking into you in an inhumane pace has you nothing but puddle in his arm.

"O—Oh, Clark! I'm coming!" you sob out, locking your arms around his neck as you feel a sort of chain on it.

Clark's hands moves from the mattress to the side of your neck, using you as leverage to thrust even deeper, groaning deeply each time. "Go on, angel, come for me."

A wave of pleasure—way more intense than before—ripples through you. Your legs shooting up to wrap around Clark's waist as his pace never faltered, continuing the ruthless way his hips crash into yours with abandon

Mindlessly, you tug on the chain around his neck. The pendant on it slipping from the opening of his shirt. Your eyes caught on the red stone pendant, the mere stone glowing just subtly.

Clark looks down, his pupils flaring red the moment he sees the pendant. He turns back to you, watching in satisfaction as you squeeze around his cock like a greedy bitch in heat.

You shake from under him, back arching up into his clothed chest as you release one more time. Clark bites his lips, pulling out of you haphazardly only to feel a gush of your wetness spray onto his cock.

The two of you look down at the same time, seeing the part where you two had connected be drenched with liquid—both yours and his.

Something drops onto your chest, just right above the center of your breasts. When shift your head just subtly, you see a familiar pendant on your bare skin.

"Oh my god…" a shaky voice comes from above you.

There you see Clark, again, only this time he doesn't have that dark and lustful look in his eyes—no, this time, he actually looks shocked.

You shake your head, thinking maybe it's just the orgasm doing tricks on you. But then Clark speaks—

This time, a little less deep and more Clark Kent: "Oh no."

hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! xoxo

[brucedefender4eva]

“So… Dick…”

Dick raised an eyebrow, stuffing the rest of Bruce’s homemade brownie into his mouth and looking over at his best friend. “Yes… Wally…?” Dick mocked, chuckling to himself.

“Bruce… is, like, in a relationship? Right?” Wally asked slowly, very pointedly, not looking at Dick, no matter how much the acrobat tried to grab his attention.

Dick’s was already twitching. Wally knows how unhappy he is about Bruce being in a relationship. “Yeah…? Walls, where is this going?”

“Is your mom happily in a relationship, or just in a relationship?” Wally wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"...What the actual fuck did you just say to me?" Dick asked quietly, slowly standing up from his position on the floor and towering over Wally, who was still sprawled out on their couch.

“Nothing!” Wally exclaimed nervously, holding out his hands in front of him. “Just a joke! Poor taste… please don’t hurt me.”

"You better watch yourself, Wallace." Dick hissed lowly, grabbing Wally by his collar and holding him very close. "Kori and I would still be very happy in a relationship with just two people."

Wally squeaked, caught between feeling terrified and slightly turned on. "... Kori agrees with me. He's a certified MILF," he whispered, which was obviously the wrong thing to say at the moment.

Dick's scream of rage was heard throughout his entire apartment complex, and Wally was very glad he was gifted with the power of superspeed. It was inevitable that Dick would find him eventually, but running to Antarctica would surely slow him down.

Right?

——

“Hey, Cass!” Cass set down her gym bag and turned to face the other dancers in the ballet classes she was taking for fun at a local center that was up-and-coming.

“Morning. Did you all get the routines down? I had a little trouble on the jumps.” Cass made herself giggle softly, and by the sounds of the other girls talking and giggling as well, she was nailing this small talk thing.

It had taken some trial and error to realize that a lot of people don’t like ‘bragging’ even if she wasn’t bragging. She had no trouble with the jumps. In fact, she had memorized the entire routine the first time the instructor went over it, but societal norms prevented her from stating that.

“Anyways… Cass. Are you, like, being picked up by your Dad again today?” Michelle, a woman Cass thinks uses the word ‘like’ a little too much, twirled her hair around her finger. The rest of the girls and guys giggled as they stared at Cass, awaiting her answer.

Cass cocked her head to the side, not understanding why they were all suddenly interested in who she was being picked up by.

“I don’t think so. He’s busy.”

A mix of groans and complaints filled the hall as all her classmates turned to each other in disappointment, which was confusing for Cass. Why would they care who was picking her up in an hour and thirty minutes?

“Damn, I was really hoping to get the chance to talk to your hot Dad.” Kyle, another classmate, groaned and clicked his tongue in disappointment. There were loud murmurs of agreement.

Cass blinked. "What?" She asked.

Maybe it was the tone of her voice, the expression on her face, or the way she tilted her ear closer as if to hear her classmates better.

"Uh... I think class is starting."

Cass stared at the backs of her retreating classmates, making a conscious effort to restrain her bloodlust.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all.

——

"Oh, Bruce was over at Ollie's mansion yesterday," Roy mentioned, tossing a handful of caramel popcorn into his mouth as he eyed Jason moving around his kitchen like he owned the place.

Jason hummed absentmindedly, completely focused on the new smoked salmon recipe he was trying out. "Yeah... I think he mentioned business or something. I wasn't really paying attention to what the old man was saying." A loud sizzle and the opening of cabinets. "Did you move the paprika?

Roy shrugged. "Hey, it's basically your kitchen. I don't touch anything in there." Jason muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Damn fucking right it's my kitchen' as he continued opening and closing drawers and whatever else.

"So anyways..." Roy continued slowly. "I saw your Dad swimming around in the indoor pool and stuff." Roy could feel his cheeks heating up, going back and picturing Bruce slowly rising out of the pool wearing only one of Oliver's Speedos (disgusting on Oliver, not so much on sexy Bruce Wayne), water cascading down his muscular bare chest.

Jeez, did he forget to turn on his air conditioner?

"Has he always been so... ya know?” Roy probably should have stopped when he no longer heard any sound from the kitchen.

“Like…?”

“Well… DILFy…” Roy continued, like the idiot that he is. “I mean, everyone’s seen what he looked like when he was younger, which was hot as hell, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like he’s only getting better with age,” Roy said, looking up only to see Jason staring at him with barely contained rage.

"Get out," Jason ordered icily, brandishing his spatula like a weapon. Considering who trained him since childhood, Roy wouldn't be surprised if Jason did know how to use it like an actual weapon.

"Uh, Jay, I don't know if you remember, but this is my apartment-" Roy was cut off by his own butcher's knife being embedded in the wall right beside his ear.

Jason had thrown the knife so close that loose strands of hair drifted down onto the couch from where he had been unwillingly given an impromptu haircut just off the side.

"Or I could leave."

——

“… so fucking hot…”

“… I know right…”

“… have more…?”

“… fucking duh…”

Tim pulled down his headphones and looked over Kon and Bernard, who were staring intently at Kon’s phone.

“Hello? Are you guys on Insta looking at hot guys or something? What’s going on?” Tim chuckled and immediately stopped when he noticed the guilty expressions on their faces. “Now way… seriously?”

"Well... It's not Insta..." Kon coughed and handed his phone over to Bernard, who was decidedly not looking Tim in the eyes. “Tim… you know how your Dad came over to the farm to ‘destress’ from Gotham life for a bit?”

Tim raised an eyebrow and slowly shut his computer, giving his boyfriends his full attention. “I wouldn’t say he was de-stressing from Gotham necessarily, but yes, go on.”

Kon played with the spiked cuff on his wrist and pursed his lips. “Bruce insisted on helping around the farm even though Clark and Pa said he didn’t have to…”

Tim waited. “And?”

“And he was super fucking hot!” Bernard blurted out, his cheeks flushing a bright red as Tim’s head whipped around to look at him.

“What?!”

“Look! Kon took a bunch of pictures!” Bernard shoved Kon’s phone into his hands, batting away Kon, who was trying to snatch it away.

Tim was in complete disbelief as he scrolled through pictures and short videos of his father walking around shirtless, sweating, and hauling heavy things.

“You-! You-!” Tim sputtered, holding Kon’s phone above his head before hurling it down to the ground and watching it shatter. “Perverts.” Tim hissed, grinding his heel.

“Babe.” Bernard tried, moving closer then holding his hands up as Tim hissed louder.

“Get away from me!” Tim gathered the broken pieces of the phone, intent on throwing them into a blazing fire and destroying all those… pictures of Bruce. “And stay away from my mom!”

Kon winced as Tim ran out of the room, wishing he didn’t have super hearing. “Oh wow… those are a lot of… descriptive torture methods. And curses…” Kon took in a shaky breath and turned to Bernard with a crooked smile. “I think we fucked up.”

“Oh, do you? Do you think we fucked up by thirsting over Tim’s admittedly stupidly sexy Dad/Mom? Just start ordering Tim’s favorite chocolates.”

——

“Your Dad’s so cool, Damian…”

“I will stab you right now. Don’t fucking test me, Kent.”

Jon got over his kiddie crush very quickly…

——

Alfred gracefully sipped on his tea, watching as the other ‘grandparents’ milled around and conversed with each other.

It was a meeting of ‘the help’ from wealthy families that somehow, over time, became family and unofficial parents and grandparents. Good ones and otherwise.

“Oh, and how’s little Brucie?”

Alfred looked up from his tea (subpar at best) and smiled politely at the nanny from the influential Korden family. “Master Bruce is as well as ever. Implementing new technologies to help Gotham has him at the business for longer, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.”

“Poor pitiful child.” Another man cooed. Alfred didn’t know him; his family simply wasn’t important enough.

“Yes, yes. What he needs is a partner to set him straight.” Another portly woman butted in, her small purse stuffed to the brim with scones and biscuits. “When is he going to settle down, Pennyworth? He's getting up there in age, soon he won't be as attractive to potential suitors.”

Alfred felt his eyebrow twitch, but he was a man of grace, no matter what Bruce said or had witnessed in the past. “Master Bruce is currently in a relationship-“

“Oh, come off it!” A man laughed, slapping Alfred on the shoulder, causing Alfred to have to fight to control his facial expression of disgust. “You know what we mean! Proper folk. One of ours.”

“Oh! If I were a few years younger! I wouldn’t let him say no!” An old man wiggled his eyebrows lewdly, causing the women around him to titter and giggle in agreement.

“Alright.” Alfred set down his cup and smiled thinly. “Even if you were the same age as Young Master Bruce, I doubt he’d want anyone with such a disgusting personality,” Alfred said, ignoring the shocked and offended gasps.

“Like I’ve said, he’s in a relationship. Your opinion on this relationship means absolutely nothing. You need the Wayne family, not the other way around.” Alfred sneered, happily turning his nose up at the other attendees.

“You in particular, watch your fucking back.” Alfred snarled at the older man who had spoken about dating Bruce himself. “I will take care of you personally. There is nowhere you can fucking hide where I won’t find you and beat you till an inch of your life.”

“Well- well, I’d never-!”

“That’s right! You’d never! The lot of you are just a bunch of-!”

Alfred walked out of that sad little meeting hall with his dignity intact and his knuckles bruised, which he hid expertly underneath his crisp white hand gloves.

“How distasteful.” Alfred sniffed, dabbing at a splotch of blood that landed on his lapel.

——

“Huh…”

All the Batkids looked up at the same time while Alfred continued to pour Bruce’s tea.

“It’s just… none of your friends have been over for quite a while,” Bruce said thoughtfully, staring at his children’s faces. “And you haven’t been going to your tea meetings, Alfred. Don’t tell me… You had a falling out?” Bruce asked, frowning in concern.

“Uh… Roy is busy with Lian.” Jason shrugged, glad he had an easy excuse.

Dick chewed on his waffle with a stiff expression before relaxing into an easy-going smile. “Kori’s off world for a bit and Wally is… dead.”

“What?”

“Dead asleep from how much crime is going on in Central City! Haha…” Dick forced out a laugh and stabbed his next waffle with more force than necessary, making all his siblings flinch and Bruce look more concerned. “He’s just busy heroing Dad.”

“…okay…” Bruce said slowly, reaching over and patting Dick’s hand before looking over at Damian and Tim. “So?”

“Kon and Bernard are… having their own dates together. Ya know, having time for each other or something.” Tim shrugged, shrinking down in his seat with a scowl on his face.

“Jonathan knows what he did,” Damian said simply, leaving it at that.

“Right… and you, Alfie?”

“No comment.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow and dropped a few sugar cubes into his tea. “No comment?”

Alfred stayed silent for a second longer before letting out a rough sigh. “I simply realized the company that I keep can be… a little too rowdy.”

“Yeah sure.” Bruce rolled his eyes, already knowing all of Alfred’s tells for his lies. “Well, you should invite them over. Oh, we can have a pool party sometime this week. It’ll be fun!” Bruce clapped his hands and smiled at his kids.

“Oh, Bruce-“

“I dunno if-“

“Well-“

“Master Bruce-“

“Let me rephrase,” Bruce said, holding up a hand and stopping everyone from speaking. “You will invite your friends whom you spent so many years complaining, griping, and whining that I wouldn’t let you reveal your identities to over. And you will have fun at this pool party next week.” Bruce said softly, causing a chill to run down everyone’s spine. “Understood?”

“Yes…”

“Alfred, I can’t force you to bring those snobs that you hang around with for some reason, and if you’ve somehow discarded them, you will be getting new friends.” Bruce narrowed his eyes as Alfred opened his mouth to speak. “Yeah, you don’t get a say in this. You’ve forced me through the years to put myself out there and make friends because socialization is a need. I’m simply returning the favor.”

Alfred closed his eyes for a second before opening them and looking down at Bruce with a slightly annoyed yet resigned expression. “Of course, Master Bruce.”

“Great!” Bruce smiled brightly. “Now, I’ve got a date in an hour, so I have to get ready!” Bruce grabbed his cup of tea and walked upstairs happily.

The dining room was silent until they heard Bruce’s door close.

“I will not let those… perverts, around Baba.” Damian hissed, clenching the butter fork in his hand dangerously.

Dick stood up slowly from his seat, making his siblings and Alfred look at him. “No… we invite them. But-“ Dick’s eyes gleamed evilly, “we make it very clear what will happen if any, and I mean any, certain comments are spoken.”

There was a nod of agreement. “Alright, let’s do this,” Jason said, also standing up, a determined look in his eyes.

“Good luck,” Cass said grimly, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her contacts. She didn’t expect anyone from her ballet class to come, especially after she made it very clear she wouldn’t accept any comments about her Dad, but she would see about the Birds of Prey. That was tough in itself.

“Don’t look at us like that, Alfred,” Tim said. “This is some serious shit.”

“Just… don’t kill anyone. Your father will be very disappointed.”

“No promises.” They chorused, leaving the dining room to make their calls.

[luvlyycy]

neighbor!phainon is a handy man. [suggestive, cursing]

What does being a handy man mean to Phainon?

Everything. He can do anything. Fix anything. It only takes him an hour to understand the problem and how to fix it. Fixing your sink?

Phainon had it done within a day.

Fixing your TV?

Done within thirty minutes.

Making your food?

He's never made a bad meal.

You once even jokingly asked if he could take a look at your car.

"I used to be a mechanic!"

What?? How many jobs exactly did he have?

Your sat on his bedroom floor, back up against his bed as he sits in front of you. His guitar in his hands as he plays it like it's the easiest thing in the world.

"I used to be in a band." he hums out, fingers strumming against the strings.

"You're joking. You used to do everything, apparently."

He laughs at the way you say it, like it's a bad thing. You think it is, he's way out of your league.

"Mm, it wasn't that long. Just a year?"

You huff, blowing your hair out of your face. Maybe you're a bit jealous. It seems like every attractive guy is good at everything.

"To be honest," he starts, now tapping his fingers against his guitar before looking at you, "If it's with my hands, I'll always be good at it."

Oh.

There he goes again. It's always sexual tension with him. First it was at parties, then it was at his house, now here? He always finds a way to make you flustered.

"That, that's cool."

He stares for a second, smiling, "I can prove it."

"Phainon."

"What? What is your pretty head thinking about, huh? Silly. I mean like, I can do whatever you want me to. I am a handy man after all."

You huff and lean your head back roughly against his bed, "Can you like, do massages?" why would you ask that?

"That's easy. I can massage, do nails, do hair, makeup, waxing—"

"What the fuck did you go to college for?"

"Mechanical engineering. With Mydei. We used to live together, with a shitty landlord." he winces at a thought before shaking his head to forget it.

"I can fix lamps to, I found that out the hard way."

You laugh for a second, "Okay, genius. I'm assuming you paint to?"

"I can paint with my fingers and paintbrushes."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious!" he laughs out, placing the guitar gently on the ground beside him and leaning back, resting his palms against the floor.

"Yeah right, there's no way!"

"The painting in my living room."

"You're fucking kidding."

He raises his eyebrows with a smirk, "I'm not."

"Phainon, that's genuinely amazing."

"Thank you, princess. I do it when I'm bored."

"Wait wait, so can you like.." you start thinking for a second. It's like a fun game of trivia.

"Origami?"

"Easy."

"Rubiks cube?"

"Oh honey, try a little harder."

You flush for a moment, looking away from his face, "Crocheting?"

"Mom taught me. That and knitting."

You stare in awe, before laughing in disbelief, "What the hell? How?"

"I could teach you, it's so easy. Like playing golf, or pool."

"Can you swim really good too?"

He grins, "I used to be on my basketball, football, and swimming team."

"How??"

"I moved around a lot!"

You stare at him for a second and he watches you back, his head tilting to the side— resting on his shoulder. It's silent, not awkward. Just quiet as you both look at each other.

"Could you teach me?" you mumble out, fidgeting on your lap and he laughs for a second.

"I may not be a good teacher. Although, maybe I am good with my mouth?"

You wonder if he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

taglist! : @httpshujii @lost-wicked-artist @lov3-ly @aloudice @blushho @aerithsthingss @rxstrife @whatamidoing89 @boycock-boycunt-boyslut @foreverz @emperatris-rinaka @monoclesnapple @panpanstyle @dyingsweetmackerel @stardustbee @diluxama @thebasicbword @comet-kun @killsxu @reminiscingthesea @mei-simp @n8mareee @qiqifruit @miyamizuna @ravinee @nico707 @what-is-wrong-with-everyone

[satellitespinner]

ROOMMATE!ELLIE HCS

. ✦ ݁ ˖ word count: 4.0k

. ✦ ݁ ˖ content warnings : college!au, rich!reader, ellie is a cunt, weeeedd, lesbian drama, kinda enemies to lovers, comphet!reader, this is lowkey crack, fluff, angst, ellie is a bitch, jesse and dina are here (who knew!) cat mention, love island mention lol im so sorry, cheating kinda, nonconsenual recording and posting (not ellie.) SMUT, hickeys, fingering (r!rec) strap sex (r!rec) cum eating (r!rec) recording (by ellie) dirty talk, pet names, short smut sequence, reader has hair. willing to do a part 2!!!!

thank you to my lover @valeisaslut for proofreading and assiting with this <3

As always, comments, critiques, and reblogs are always welcome! talk to me and i’ll talk back! ⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

find the dividers i used HERE!

roommate!ellie who moves into the luxurious dorms 3 days after you do, with only her backpack and sanity in tow.

roommate!ellie who is already pissed, it's raining in September and she still has to move all her shit in so she can get comfortable before class starts.

she immediately notices what kind of environment she has stumbled into, as there's only two types of people at a school like this: entitled nepo baby rich girls, and hot girl fit jocks who are nine times out of ten majoring in medicine or law.

was she generalizing? yes.

did she care? no.

her eyes immediately shift over to your fancy coffee maker, and the stupid cute rug outside of your bedroom door. she silently thanks god for the fact that she's in a suite, and not cooped up in some tight fit dorm where her roommate is practically forced down her throat at all times.

roommate!ellie is shocked to say the least, when you scurry out of your room to greet her. you looked.. wealthy. hair neatly pushed out of your face, gold bangles complimenting your skin neatly, and a fat wad of gum that squished between your teeth when you spoke.

“Hi!” you greet her sweetly. ellie notices the way your skin crinkles under your eyes when you smile.

roommate!ellie who gives you a small nod and a tight lipped smile, choosing to keep her distance rather than engaging with you.

you decide not to take her nonchalance to heart and direct her to where her room is. maybe she's just quiet!

roommate!ellie who does not leave her room… but you can hear her rock music blasting through the walls and into the late hours of the night.

when you do see her, it's usually a flash and then she's gone, a quick trip to the kitchen when she doesn't expect you to be awake on the couch, or her scurrying off to class or work.

roommate!ellie who gets so fucking annoyed when you bring your friends to the dorm.. like overly annoyed. as soon as you guys enter, she doesn't miss a beat. “Can you guys, like - go obsess over guys in your room?” you then sigh and just lead them to your own room.

her snarky remarks would lead others to expect that you were the worst human on the planet.

one day she overhears you on the phone with the bank, and can't help but mutter, “What? Daddy put a limit on your black card?” and roll her eyes. you just frown and take your conversation to the bedroom.

roommate!ellie feels a little bad, but unfortunately not bad enough to stop. she torments you in little ways, like telling you to fuck off when you ask her to watch love island with you, or giving dina and jesse that look when you get back from class.

you didn't know why your new roommate resented you so much, but it hurt your feelings cause like? you didn't do anything wrong, you were just trying to make friends with her :(

roommate!ellie who knew exactly why she loathed you. she envied you. your perfect wealth, your perfect status, your perfect boyfriend, who she hadn’t even met but could already guess was just as privileged and perfect as you were. but most of all, she envied the way you never had to worry about money or future, things she had to worry about since she gained consciousness. it clearly wasn’t your fault, but the resentment in her chest made it impossible to bond with you.

roommate!ellie who got into this school by a scholarship she worked hard as hell to get. joel wasn't poor, but still didn't have enough to buy her a space on the “rich people” campus. she was determined, to say the least, to prove to herself and others that money wasn’t everything. that she could have a future as bright as everyone else from the ground up, no silver spoon rusting in her mouth.

by this point, roommate!ellie has made it her life’s mission to embarrass you. she teased you like no other, most of her hits directed at your wealth. she even went as far as insulting your intelligence, at which you responded by scoffing and reminding her of the acceptance rate of the school. “I’m here for a reason, Ellie.” you’d say.

as the leaves shifted colours and snow coated campus roommate!ellie has only gotten worse, you slowly notice the uptick in her irritability after her work hours go up. you notice jesse and dina less and less as it gets colder, and you can hear ellie crying more often.

at this point you’ve started to grow curious about your mysterious roommate, she was practically an enigma to you.

so… what better to do than to snoop?

roommate!ellie’s room resembled that of a teenage boy, and his alcoholic divorced father at the same time. you tiptoed around, eyes catching on multiple rock posters that you almost recognized.

her room was messy, an accurate depiction of the mind you so desperately wanted to know. you laugh at a few of her items, a bong sitting beside her tv, and a few what look to be empty carts laying beside it. then your eyes shift to her bedside table, a leather journal lay closed beside her lamp. you don't mean to be nosy. but the journal is just sitting there, staring back at you.

you flip to the most recent entry, dated to be two nights ago

“Nothing is working, a ticket back home is almost 2 thousand dollars. i dont want to stay here for christmas.”

you move a hand to your mouth, a weird sort of sadness washes over your body. your empathetic to her situation. youre about to close the book and exit her room when your eyes graze over a piece of paper folded in the back of the journal. curiosity gets the better of you, you gently unfold the tattered paper, it looks older than the rest of the book.

its a simple pencil drawing, a sketch of you sleeping on the couch, a few Z’s are written above your head in the same scrappy handwriting.

you sigh and retreat back to your room before she arrives home.

roommate!ellie who hears your boyfriend before she sees him.

shes already had a shitty day. she was late to class because of her fucking trucks being too loose, some prick spilt coffee all over her white t shirt, and jesse and dina wouldn’t stop talking about her “crush on her cute roommate.”

and when ellie enters the suite, ready to flop onto the couch and die, she's met with the soft banging of your headboard and your boyfriends rather loud grunts. your soft moans fill the air, causing ellie’s ears to flush red.

she slams her backpack down with a little too much force, paying the fact that her laptop could very much be broken no mind. she practically stomps over to your door, and the moans of your boyfriend's name stop as soon as it collides with her fist.

she hears shuffling through the door, but she doesn't wait for you to chase him out and apologize. instead, she makes her way back into her own bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

roommate!ellie ignores your apologetic texts and the few knocks on her door to wander over to her dresser and roll a joint. she hates it here.

roommate!ellie who only gets worse. she calls you names under her breath when you make her dinner as a peace offering, and ignores you when you ask how her day went. this time however, you just nod. wracking your mind on how ellie must feel.

to her, you’re probably the annoying prissy roommate who doesn’t know when to stop.

you sympathize with her from a distance, the idea of plane tickets slowly creeping up on you.

roommate!ellie doesnt do college parties. she doesnt do recreational drinking and meaningless small talk. but guess who does? dina and jesse, and.. you.

roommate!ellie is already annoyed when jesse and dina arrive, you had invited them to pregame in the kitchen alongside you and your equally as rich friends. ellie was quick to speak for them all, a loud no leaving her mouth. she hears one of your friends whisper something along the lines of ‘Told you.” as they walk back into her room.

roommate!ellie’s friends are quick to judge her based on her hostile behaviour.

“I mean, don't you think you're being a bit too mean..?” jesse asks hesitantly. before bringing the glass bong to his lips.

“Maybe she isn’t as bad as you think?” dina suggests, wrapping her thick locks around a curling iron, her focus is on the mirror but her ears tune in intensively.

roommate!ellie doesn't care, she rants about the most minuscule things as she drives.

the party is loud, full of strangers and she can smell the sweat from outside. she groans as the group enters, immediately met with the sight of you grinding onto your boyfriend, his hands on your waist as you sway your his to the rhythm of the song, his expression is dull, uninterested. as if he didn't have the most beautiful girl dancing on him, ellie shakes the thought and walks over to the counter for a drink.

ellie wasn’t drunk, she was buzzed at the most. she ends up on the back porch with some junior, Cat. she was nice, short black hair cut into a bob, l covered in tattoos, she reminded ellie of her sketchbook.

cat was funny, she knew just what to say and how to say it. but ellie’s mind just wasn't there. she decided to ignore the feeling, and allows cat to drag her inside the house to dance.

cat grinds against her for a while, black mini dress slipping above her thighs. ellie’s hands move up and down her waist. ellie pulls the girl closer, her lip makes home between her teeth as cat moves her lips over her neck.

ellie quickly pulls her into a messy kiss, lips moving against her own loudly. cat stops her movements, pulling ellie closer by the neck. ellie opens her eyes as cat pulls away, her eyes meet your own across the room, she couldn’t really decipher what you were feeling, but she did notice that you were alone. polo wearing boyfriend nowhere to be found, ellie rolls her eyes.

“Do you wanna go upstairs..?” cat whispers, her lips gently brushing over ellie’s ear. now, ellie wasnt one for one time hookups, but cats sultry tone corrupts her. so, she accepts.

cat leads ellie up the stairs, fiddling with a few door knobs, all the bedrooms were already pre occupied with other horny students trying to get laid. cat sighs, and pulls ellie towards the bathroom. “no line?” ellie questions. cat laughs and knocks gently on the door.

when the door opens ellie and cat are greeted with an embarrassed blonde, one of your prissy sorority friends, wiping her mouth as she leads her male counterpart out the door. a face ellie is sure she recognizes. but she can't exactly put her finger on it.

she shakes the thought, and follows cat into the bathroom.

roommate!ellie who notices when your boyfriends nice guy facade starts to falter. she notices when your arguments bleed from your bedroom, to the living room, his loud booming voice overpowering yours. she noticed when he began to let the word bitch slip out during petty disputes. and she especially noticed when you would cry over him in the late hours of the night.

sure, roommate!ellie was an asshole, but she wasn't evil.

“Hey.” she whispered, her pajama clad frame resting against the door frame.

you were quick to wipe your tears, standing up from the edge of your bed. “What do you need, ellie?” you approach, “Here to rub it in my face that im having a hard time?” you scoff, ellie’s eyes widen her words jumping from her mouth.

“No i-” she tries to reason, but to no avail.

“Just mind your own! You have never cared about my feelings before, so just - Fuck off, ellie!” you all but whisper, ellie was never seen you like this. mean, cold. she felt like she deserved it.

roommate!ellie who continues to bring her friends over and stink up the house with weed, and blast rock music late at night. but she does it, respectfully?

now, she texts you in advance, and sometimes even asks you first. It wasn't complete selflessness, but it was baby steps.

roommate!ellie who sits down next to you one day when you're watching tv, some cringe reality show that you had been binging.

it feels.. normal, as if she hadn’t been barking insults at you for the past few months. you two laugh at the contestants, she gives her input on the whole show.

“You remind me of Amayah,” she laughs “sensitive gangster.” you laugh loudly. lightly punching ellie in the arm. you two settle once again, the episode halfway over by now.

”You want food?” you ask, opening your phone up to the doordash app. ellie hesitates for a moment. her face unsure.

“I’ll pay. Remember, daddy’s black card?” you wink at her, already punching in your order. ellie agrees reluctantly, and you type hers in too.

roommate!ellie who begins writing in her journal about you. I mean, she was already writing about you. but that was about how much she hated you.

roommate!ellie who feels like she's been shot when she hears you return from class with your stupid boyfriend in tow.

roommate!ellie who decides to swallow her pride and leave her room when he's over. but when she exits her room she is met with a very familiar face, the guy from the party. your boyfriend is quick to meet her gaze, guilt, fear, and probably regret wash your present in hand. over him. he knows, she knows.

“Ellie! this is my boyfriend!” you introduce him by name, unsure if they’ve ever met before. your smile is wide, arm wrapped around his muscled one. if only you knew.

roommate!ellie who doesnt know how shes gonna tell you. you were just starting to get along and she’s not sure how you're gonna react to her telling you that she thinks your boyfriend is cheating on you. with no proof.

roommate!ellie who decides that it isn’t her place to tell you, she isn’t even fully sure yet. and doesn't want to ruin your progress.

roommate!ellie starts going out with cat, its just.. dates. and sex.

roommate!ellie who just cant stop thinking about you. even when you're together, watching love island in the living room. she thinks about you when shes studying, when she’s been dragged to a party by dina, and even when shes knuckles deep inside of her not-so-girlfriend.

roommate!ellie who makes the totally rational decision to start avoiding you, in order to dissolve her tiny crush.

roommate!ellie who one day decides to buy you a christmas present, shes still coping. it’s a simple gift, a small stuffed animal that reminded her of you the second she saw it.

roommate!ellie who rolls her eyes when she enters the dorm, your friends filling the kitchen space. her eyes immediately shift to the shady blonde from the party. she doesn't greet you instead retreating to her room to pack a bowl. your present in hand.

roommate!ellie immediately calls joel for help, ranting about you, and your boyfriend, and your fucked up friends and how much she wants to kiss you. well she doesnt say that.

roommate!ellie who decides she's going to tell you, you don't deserve to be surrounded by people who disrespect you. besides her.

well it turns out, roommate!ellie didn't have to tell you. because when she checked her snap, there was real footage of you and your boyfriend. posted for everyone to see.

roommate!ellie is the first person to send you the video,

williams: this u?

williams: sent a story.

roommate!ellie hears you scream all the way from her bedroom, she can tell you tried to cover it with a pillow. but she still heard it.

you stomp into her room, silky pajamas leaving little to the imagination. tears stream down your face.

“Did you know about this?!” you yell, your voice wet and cracking.

ellie stands from her bed quickly, eyes wide. “No! Why would I-”

“You’ve been out to get me since we met, Ellie!” you cry, your tone accusatory. ellie is about to respond, but you aren’t done.

“I dunno if you're jealous, or heard some things that aren’t true? But im not this evil bitch you paint me out to be!” your voice gets louder. more tears stream down your face. ellie wants to reach out and rub them away.

”I would never do that! jealous or not I promise you-”

“You’re so full of shit!”

“He was cheating on you!” ellie shouts, her arms rushing to your face, pulling you close. she practically stares into your puffy eyes.

“I saw him a party with that blonde friend of yours, i dont, i wouldn’t”

“Fuck you! and all of my friends are blonde! that doesn’t help!” you slap her hands away, you scoff as you walk out and slam the door.

roommate!ellie isn't sure how to feel. she wants to prove it to you that she had nothing to do with your dickhead boyfriend leaking your sex tape. but she also wanted to ignore you forever for yelling at her.

roommate!ellie who gets in a fight at a party, a party that you had skipped out on. one of your boyfriends friends was badmouthing you, calling you a slut. as if your boyfriend wasn't the one who recorded it and posted it.

ellie got a few good hits in, but the kid obviously kicked her ass. there was only so much she could do against a six foot football player.

roommate!ellie who practically ripped the door off of its hinges as she entered your room after. a black eye covering a good half of her face and a busted lip leaking blood all over your white rug.

“What happened to you?” you question, worry overtaking your features.

“What happened is your stupid boyfriend, I got my ass beat defending you. So wh-” she rants, pointing to her bruised eye socket.

“ex-boyfriend.” you correct.

“Dude!” her eyes widen. you laugh, walking towards her. “Cmon stupid, lets get you fixed up.” you grab her by the arm, leading her into the living room.

roommate!ellie who practically melts when you bring a soaked rag to her lip, rubbing the old blood away.

“Y’know, I’m quite flattered you came to my honour today.” you smirk, ellie nods. you continue to rub the damp fabric against her lip.

“Had to, he was calling you names.” she explains, her eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah, im sure he was.” you roll your eyes, a quiet sigh leaving your lips.

ellie frowns. she doesnt think before reaching out and flicking the small pout on your lips. you look back up at her, confusion visible. ellie’s hand moves to cup your face.

“What do you say we get him back?”

roommate!ellie who is just so grateful for your help.

“mmm, Ellie…” you moan, her lips digging into your neck as she pushes your panties down your legs. her bed is cold, comfortable.

she quickly runs a finger up and down your slit, bringing it up to circle your clit. ellie’s move to are rushed, shes in no mood to tease.

“God, you're so wet.” she slips a single finger in, slipping it in and out sloppily. her lips move from your neck to your lips. the wet, messy, kisses only releasing more arousal from you.

“Wanted this for so long, Baby. Think about you all the time.” she admits. you moan into her, bucking your hips into her hand.

ellie slips another finger in, gently scissoring them into you. you groan at the stretch.

“I know baby.” she reassures, “Gotta stretch you out for my cock.” she mutters, taking a nipple into her mouth.

roommate!ellie’s dick game was lethal. she had you face down ass up, hands on your hips as her large purple strap digs into your hole.

“Ugh mmm! fuck! ellie!” you cry, your filthy moans fill the room. ellie is sure that people from the other dorms can hear you.

ellie’s hands leave your hips, her firm thrusts continue. she reaches over to her nightstand, equipping her phone.

she quickly opens her camera, hitting the record button.

“Yeah, baby, you like that?” she smirks, taking her lip into her mouth as she thrusts into you. you reach back, taking ellie’s hand into your own. your whiny moans filling the microphone.

“Ellie! i love it so much!” you whine, tears starting to form in your eyes. ellie laughs, digging the strap as deep as possible. “Love your dick so much!” you whine, ellie’s ego skyrockets. you had never sounded this good when you were with your boyfriend.

ellie grits her teeth. “So much better than him, Huh?” you whine out a loud yes, her strap digging into you. you moan her name, she mockingly moans yours back, matching your high pitched sounds.

“I’m gonna cum!” you whine, tears finally breaking through, mascara runs down your face. ellie slaps your ass, her thrusts becoming faster, and harder.

“You gonna cum on my dick, Baby? come on baby cum for me.” her seductive tone only making you more turned on, her phone still held above you. you arch your back tightly, your hand squeezing ellie’s free one.

“Fuck! Fuck! mmmcumming!” your voice cracks as ellie digs into you two last times. she carefully moves her camera to zoom into her thick strap coated in your milky cum.

“Holy fuck, look at her.” she groans. she moves two finger to lightly scoop up some of you. she brings her fingers to your mouth, and you welcome them without hesitation. she moans at the sight of you. she gently fucks her fingers into your mouth before pulling them out.

“C’mere.” she beckons, bringing her hand to your hair, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. That's when she cuts the video. she kisses you again. murmuring tiny praises into your skin.

roommate!ellie quickly discards of her strap, opting to clean it later. she lays down beside, you your skin sticking to her own.

roommate!ellie who sends that long video to your punk as boyfriend and laughs when he replies with “Tf? Fuck you Dyke”

roommate!ellie who holds you until you’ve completely fallen asleep, content etched into your features. your soft breaths cascade through the room.

roommate!ellie is shocked to say the least when you come see her a week later with a mysterious piece of paper in your hand.

FLIGHT TICKET.

Flight:

AAB1234

Boarding Time:

7:30AM.

DESTINATION:

Jackson, Wyoming.

roommate!ellie who doesn't know what to say, she doesn’t know if she should thank you, or berate you. you’re standing there smiling at her, waiting for her to accept the slip of paper.

“How did you - wha-?” she looks around, up at you, back down at the ticket and then back at you.

“Well.. I did some digging, and-” ellie laughs, in disbelief.

“You went through my shit?” she scoffs, her tone coming out way ruder than intended.

“Listen, I-” you ramble, trying hard to explain yourself. ellie doesnt let you.

“What the fuck?” she looks up at you again, fidgeting with the paper in hand.

“I was only trying to help, Ellie. Think of it as like, a thank you?” you reason. you didn't expect her to react this way.

“Right.” she laughs, slamming the paper onto the counter. the loud slam making you flinch. “wha-” you stammer, “i dont want your fucking help.” she grumbles. waltzing into her room and slamming the door.

Back to square one.

taglist:

@andieprincessofpower @loserabby @mastermasterlist1p1 @blxeberryblood @firefly-ace @doodl3b3ans @modernvenuss @remusandlunakinnie @justagirlexisting @softqirls @bambi-luvs @r3starttt @jujuszn @fempr1ncesss @miajooz @vxsellie @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @everluna @lovewitchss @elliesbabygirl @talyaisvalslutsoldier @chappellroankisser @cheriedivine @laceyxrenee @hotpinkskitties @avalovesmus1c @rbnvrnxoxo

[lijojo]

genshin sugar daddies: when they finally meet each other

you have seven sugar daddies: one for each day of the week. and although it can get overwhelming at times, you’ve done well to keep each and every relationship relatively separate, no matter how demanding of your attention they are. well, that all goes to shit when they’re all attending the same fucking party.  

tw: nsfw, dark content

you’re fucked. 

“is something wrong, dear?” ayato inquires. you do your best to put on your prettiest smile, smooth down your dress like nothing’s wrong, and squeeze his hand to reassure him that everything is a-okay.

“i’m fine. feeling a bit under the weather, is all.” 

everything is not a-okay. underneath your jewel-encrusted gown you are trembling. kaeya shouldn’t even be here, you think. but there he is, chatting up some local politician that ayato had introduced you to earlier. it takes everything in you not to suggest leaving the gala when you had just arrived an hour ago.

ayato smiles, pressing a chaste kiss between your brows. “alright.”

home. just a couple weeks ago, ayato has begun to change his vocabulary. he says ‘ours’ instead of ‘my’ and ‘we’ instead of ‘me.’ every time you take off your new diamond-encrusted ring, he gives you a look you can’t stomach and glides it back onto your finger whenever he gets the chance. he’ll kiss you sweetly like nothing’s wrong but from the way his hand lingers on your ring finger says otherwise. 

“i wish i could take you home right now,” ayato laments, taking your hand in his and slowly caressing the back of your knuckles like a lover would. “but you know how things are. publicity is half of the job.”

that’s why we entered this kind of relationship in the first place. you purse your lips. it was supposed to be contractual, nothing more.

ayato’s whispers of sweet-nothings into your ear contrasts your thoughts. he tells you how beautiful you look, how your cerulean gown matches his suit, about how he’ll take it off when you get back, all the while he’s navigating you through the crowds of people. his hand rests gently on the small of your back, as if it was his way of soothing you. 

you’re fine, you tell yourself. there’s too many people here. kaeya won’t see you. you dread the idea of locking eyes with him, the dark scowl that’d spread on his lips, if you had the misfortune of seeing him again tonight. he might’ve known that you had other clients, but if he met them in person, you’re sure you’d never hear the end of it. 

“are you sure you’re fine?” ayato asks softly. he brushes a stray strand of hair away form your face. he presses his lips to your cheek like it belongs there.

a frank ‘no,’ dances on the tip of your tongue. your survival instincts are screaming at you, begging you to call off this entire thing. you want to go home. you want to tell him no, you’re not fine. but if you do, ayato would most likely take you home. not your home. but home. and as much as you wanted to escape, you knew being in a room alone with this man who stared at you as if you were is one and only was even worse. 

so you don’t. you do what you practiced. you stare into this man’s eyes and smile like you mean it. you kiss him on the lips, to which he reciprocates eagerly, and tell him, “i told you, i’m okay.” 

the way ayato smiles is devious. he smoothly hooks his hand around your waist and guides you to the center of the ballroom. try as you might, you can feel the envious gazes burning into your skin. towards you or ayato, you’re not sure, but you don’t want to think about it further.

ayato, it seems, doesn’t mind. his hold on you becomes all the more tighter, confident.  

the two of you are once again talking to one of ayato’s associates. you’ve seen this man at other social events here and there, but you’ve never talked to him personally. 

you shudder at the way he eyes you up. 

“oh, you must be the rumored miss ayato seemingly can’t stop talking about,” the man surmises. he stares into his glass of wine before taking a greedy gulp. “ayato has never talked about a woman so fondly, so i figured you must’ve been really special. now that i’ve finally been introduced to you, i can see i was right.”

you open your mouth to retort, but ayato beats you to it. 

his nails are practically digging into your bodice. “yes, this is my fiance,” he hisses. you don’t appreciate how much emphasis he puts into his words. you almost want to correct him, but you don’t, because this is what you’re paid for: to ward off potential marriage proposals. so sure, you’ll let this one slide, as long as he says nothing about it in private.

the man, seemingly oblivious to ayato’s rising anger, smiles. “ah, so you’ve finally put a ring on it? what a pity.” 

“i can hardly say it’s a pity,” ayato mutters. “we’ve been together for a very long time, it was only a matter of time. if anything, it seems as if you’re trying to make a pass.” 

ayato’s associate jumps at his tone. “oh,  no, that wasn’t my intention...”

his words start to melt into the background noise, the music, the meaningless chatter. you smile awkwardly, knowing that if you tried to handle things yourself ayato would only take over for you. so instead, you stand there and look pretty, trying to not draw any more attention than you should. 

instead, you opt to observe the room. between the crowds of mingling elites, you’re desperate to find out where kaeya had gone. was he close? was he far? did he leave? did he see you? 

your stomach flips at the mere thought. at the very beginning, kaeya was fun. casual. he was friendly but not invasive. he’d flirt with you and mean it, but you knew his attraction to you didn’t extend beyond the bedroom. at least, that’s what you thought. before you knew it, kaeya had grown so attached to you it were as if you were his second heart, as if he wanted to meld you into his skin and whisper all of his thoughts and praises. 

if he discovered you here with someone else, you don’t know what would happen. 

in the midst of your discreet search, you catch a familiar glimpse of someone else in the crowd. you usually see him in his work attire when it’s designated day, but today he’s donned on an emerald suit, decorated with gold embellishments.

your heart drops to the pit of your stomach when alhaitham’s gaze sweeps across the crowd, as if he’s looking for something too. to his right, tighnari matches his pace. they seem to be in some sort of conversation, mumbling to each other over glasses of champagne as the crowd moves forward.  they live on the opposite side of the city. what are they doing here? you were so sure that this event would only be attend by those with business in the inazuma district. what went wrong? 

you’re just about to look away when it happens. 

alhaitham looks back.

it’s like a bucket of ice has been poured over you. 

his stare goes from surprise, to confusion, to realization, to absolute anger.

you don’t forget how ayato’s hand rests comfortably on your waist. alhaitham’s eyes seemed to be pinned there, like he’s undressing you with his eyes, burning holes into every pore of ayato’s hand. 

you’re caught like a deer in headlights. tightnari’s trying to talk to him, but alhaitham ignores him entirely. his entire focus, his entire being, is locked onto you. you don’t know what to do at this point.

ayato’s tight grip loosens. without even realizing it you’re being guided away from the conversation. 

“i’m so sorry about that,” ayato murmurs as he wraps both hands around your waist. he presses into you, his nose finding its way inbetween your neck and your shoulder. 

you’re entire body freezes as alhaitham’s gaze drags up your hips to your neck. for a second, his eyes catch yours and he gives you this look as if to say, i’m going to kill him. 

“ayato, we’re in public,” you say as you gently press onto his shoulders. you hope that he can’t feel the way your fingers tremble.

“let them see,” he replies with a breathy exhale. “that way, no one ever tries anything with you again. besides, is it wrong for two lovers to express their love in public? especially so soon after being engaged.”

this is wrong. the ayato you knew when you first met didn’t like drawing attention to himself. he’d rather sit in the shadows and people watch rather than become the spectacle himself. and of all things, at the worst time. 

you feel as if ayato is unknowingly digging your grave. every time ayato moves so much as a milimeter closer to you, you can see alhaitham’s jaw clench just a little tighter. 

at this point, tighnari has caught on to what alhaitham has been so distracted by. tighnari doesn’t hesitate to size you up. the both of you. for a moment, his ears pull back. he’s threatened. 

“my dear?”

you’re attention whips back to ayato. his gaze is almost intense as alhaitham’s and tighnari’s. it’s full of love, adoration, and obsession. he looks at you like you’re the one for him. that he had just discovered you two were soulmates. but you’re not. 

you smile, even though you feel like turning your stomach inside out. you have to pretend that you’re fine. and you’re good at that, right? you’re good at pretending to be what these men want, which is convenient, emotionally available, and loving. even though you’re entire world, everything you’ve worked so hard to maintain, is falling apart right this moment, you will smile. because that’s your job, isn’t it? you’re good at giving what your customers need. you’re good at your job.

so you keep your voice nice and light, even though you’re words are anything but what ayato wants to hear. “but we aren’t engaged, though.” 

he hums, nuzzling deeper into your skin. “but we are, aren’t we? my ring is on your finger.” his fingers thrum against your hips. “did you know? my name’s engraved on the inside.”

as much as ayato’s words alarm you, your entire focus is locked onto alhaitham and tighnari, who look livid. their mouths are moving. the two of them are speaking to each other, and it kills you not to know what they’re saying. 

just before you can get away from ayato, they make their way towards you. 

their pace is slow, but intentional. their gazes don’t dare pry away from you.  

and just like that, it all becomes too much. 

“i have to go to the bathroom,” you blurt out. with some kind of newfound adrenaline, you manage to push ayato off of you. he gives you a look of hurt, confusion, anger, and absolute shock. “i’ll be right back.”

ayato’s clearly confused, but as he attempts to reach out to you, you blend yourself within the throng of people. without looking back, you disappear into the crowd, leaving ayato all by his lonesome. 

you’re quick to push through the crowds, but careful to avoid the other ticking time bombs in the room. you feel as if you’re being chased. and in reality, you are. you zigzag through different conversations, hoping to miraculously become invisible. and yet, despite your absolute care, you somehow step on your own minefield. 

you hear the sound of your name first.

you see him second. 

childe’s standing there, in a suit you’ve never seen him wear before. 

is everyone at this party? 

“i thought it was you, looking so pretty. are you all dressed for me?” 

you both know what the answer is, and yet you don’t say anything. 

childe chuckles. “why do you look so scared? you look like you’ve just been caught cheating.” 

he slowly slides his hand down your arm, almost sensually. his fingers interlock with yours before he’s swinging it playfully, but you know his mood is anything but. he’s staring at your interlocking hands so intently. you look down to realize that he’s staring at the ring ayato put on your finger. 

shit. 

childe doesn’t say anything. he simply kisses your hand all prince-like, his gaze meeting yours. he’s so calm it’s disturbing. 

“whoever got this for you has bad taste. i bet he just chose whatever ring had the biggest jewel, right?” he plays with your fingers dismissively, gentlely drawing patterns around your ring finger. “you always told me i couldn’t buy you a ring, and yet this fucker can. what’s so different? i bet he just thinks whatever is biggest is the prettiest. but truth is, it’ll never be pretty. it’ll never be my special kind of pretty, isn’t that right, girlie?” 

you’re tempted to curl into yourself, but you hold your ground. 

“let go, childe.”

“and let you run away from me to some other man who doesn’t know you as well as i do? hmm? he uses his hold on your hand as leverage to pull you closer to him. his other hand wraps itself around your torso, pressing you into him. you struggle to escape, but you can’t. to anyone else, you two would’ve looked to be in a lover’s embrace. he caresses your cheek, as if appraising you. “maybe i should leave my own mark on you. maybe that’ll show everyone who you really belong to.”

you wriggle in his grasp. “childe, i’m serious. stop—”

“hmm, at least your next is exposed. yes… i think a hickey here would be nice—”

“childe! what are you up to this time?” 

childe immediately pulls away to reveal a man smiling amicably at the two of you. a pair of silver frames rest on his nose.

“ah, pantalone.” childe replies. “it’s nothing.”

you don’t hesitate to use this opportunity to escape. the moment you can, you whisk yourself away. you don’t care for niceties at this point. instead, you find refuge in the ladies’ restroom. 

you lock yourself in one of the stalls, grateful that no one else is in there. with no one around to stare, observe, or judge you, you close the toilet seat and plop onto it unceremoniously with your head in your hands. 

at this point, everything is spinning. your heart is thumping at thousands of miles per minute, and you’re trying to get a grip on reality. you think about the bills you need to pay, your overwhelming debt, and the life that rests on your hands. you think about all the things you need to do, and all the things you can’t do, not by yourself.

you need money to survive. 

once you’ve properly calmed down, you take a deep breath and open the door. you look at yourself in the mirror, taking note of all the little details in your makeup and your outfit, all of which were made by ayato, for ayato. all dressed in light blues, you look like you belong to the kamisato clan. 

you look like ayato’s wife.

“you look wonderful in blue.”

you don’t have the time to turn before he’s on you. 

if you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought that kaeya had returned to his old self. he’s kissing you like he hates the space between you. his mouth is hot and tastes of alcohol. his hands find their place on your hips like it’s natural. 

you can’t breathe, with the way he kisses you. 

underneath his heated movements, there’s a underlying desperation. like kaeya somehow needs to overdose on your every breath to survive. his hands are all over you, rumpling the dress you tried so hard to smooth out. 

he pushes the two of you into one of the open stalls, smoothly locking it behind him. you’re pressed against the bathroom door, a hardness pressing into your abdomen.

“kaeya—” 

your words are immediately swallowed up by his mouth. he can’t be bothered to speak to you. you can feel how angry he his with his fingers dig into your skin. he just wants to kiss you senseless, is that so wrong?

his tongue runs over yours. he’s exploring your mouth like it’s a treasure trove. as if this his first time ever kissing you and he wants to learn what makes you tick. 

but really, you can’t breathe. 

“kaeya—”

he pulls away from you like it’s the most painful thing he’s done. and it’s then you meet his eyes for the first time that night. his gaze is vulnerable. it’s obsessive, and needy, and desperate, and too, too much. too emotional. it’s not what you signed up for, and it’s not what he promised you. 

but he doesn’t care about that right now. he nuzzles into your neck, breathing in your scent like it’s his drug. 

“i saw you. with him.” 

“who?” comes out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. 

“i saw you the moment you got here,” kaeya replies, ignoring your question. “do you know how hurt i felt? how much i wanted to just strangle him? i could do it, you know. i could stage it like it was an accident. or make it look like he was a danger to the people. no one would know.”

you knew kaeya was a ticking time bomb, but you’ve never seen him like this. 

he wraps himself around you and pulls you close, resting your head on his chest. you can hear how fast his heart is pounding. “you’d still love me, if i did that, right? you know everything about me, everything no one else knows. only you could love me.”

there’s a crazed look to him. he’s so out of it, you’re hesitant to touch him. his embrace steals the breathe out of your lungs, quite literally. he holds onto you like if he let up for just a second you’d disappear into thin air. 

“kaeya—”

he kisses you again, a small moan leaving his lips. “say my name again, please. say it like it’s yours. i’m all yours.”

you run your hand through his hair and pull, but he only groans in response. you can feel his hard-on grinding into you. a whimper escapes you as he brushes against your clit through the dress.

if it’s not his name, kaeya’s bent on not letting you speak. his kisses keep getting more insistent, more greedy. 

you run your hand through his hair and give it a hard tug.

“aagh—just like that.”

you’re out of options at this point. kaeya won’t pull away, so eager to breathe you in. 

kaeya’s too lost in you to notice your hand blindly grabbing at the bathroom’s lock. when the door opens, it creates enough momentum to seperate the two of you. kaeya’s taken off guard, so you take the chance to bolt it out of there and escape back into the crowd.

you just want to run away from everything. from these disastrous men. from these claustrophobic parties. from this entire situation. from all your problems. your debt. from small, tiny hospital rooms and endless nights praying for a miracle—

you don’t care what you look like at this point. you don’t care that your dress is in disarray, that tears are probably streaking down your face, or that you’re so out of breath you’re gulping down air like it’s water. 

fuck this. 

fuck that.

fuck everything.

you’re so focused on escaping you bump shoulders with a stranger. quite roughly, at that. 

diluc looks surprised. he appraises you concerningly, but you can’t stomach it. his gaze is so full of love and adoration and possessiveness you think you’re going to hurl. 

you don’t even say anything. when you see kaeya chasing after you, you book it. you don’t even text ayato you’re leaving. you just…disappear.

the hospital room’s quiet. it always is. save for the occasional nurse, no one else is here, save for the patient. 

in a way, this room is your escape.

you’re still in ayato’s dress. it’s a bit dirty from tonight’s events, a bit ruffled. you look like a victim in those crime TV shows with a shock blanket. 

right now, you’re curled up on the sofa, staring into nothingness. you don’t want to think of anything right now. there’s no point in saying anything. you know she won’t say anything back. 

what would she say if she were here right now? 

she’d scold you, for sure. she’d nag you for how messy your apartment was. how you dropped out of college when you promised her you’d pursue your dream. how you haven’t once visited your parents’ grave. how you sold your mind, body, and soul just for some few bucks. 

you crumble at the thought. oh, how much money it took to keep her alive. to hide the both of you away from them. to keep sniffing dogs off your trail. you could always move away, hop from place to place. but if you did, what would you do about her? 

your sister was like a second mother to you. how could you abandon her like that? 

the door opens so abruptly, you practically jump out of your skin. 

“kazu?”

“i knew you’d be here.”

somewhere down the line, you heard that kazuha had descended from a long line of honorable samurais. seeing him like this, appearing out of thin air as if he was there all along, you thought it could be true.

kazuha enters the room like a soft gentle breeze, like it’s a suggestion. 

you’re speechless. 

he sits next to you on the couch and presses the side of your head to lean onto his shoulder. the two of you look at your comatosed sister together, as if if you stared hard enough, she’d finally wake up. 

“it’s going to be okay,” kazuha whispers.

“how did you know i was here?”

“what do you mean?” he turns to kiss the crown of your head so tenderly. “i’ll always be there for you, don’t you know that?”

your blood runs cold. you pull away to look at him. “kazuha, i never told you where i was. no one knows about this hospital.”

he looks at you earnestly, as if you don’t know any better and he adores it.

“but i do,” he says. 

[moontabi]

OFF LIMITS

namgyu (player 124) x fem! reader

summary: your younger brother minsu has always kept shitty friends but none worse than junkies thanos and namgyu. this time, namgyu makes his move on you.

warnings: 18+ content ahead including dubious consent, sniffing panties, very light knife play, bathroom sex, power imbalance, pet names, noona kink, dirty talk, degradation, praise, objectification, some pet play (?) (he makes reader crawl to him and calls her a mutt), fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex, and creampie. perv! namgyu, heavy use of “noona”, mentions of thanos x reader

a/n: soo i blacked out and this happened. it’s rlly unhinged. shoutout to my friend for suggesting he call her noona because now all i can think about is namgyu noona kink

The bass from the TV shakes through the floorboards, rattling the cheap wooden trim and humming up through your bare feet. Gunshots and explosions stutter in quick bursts over the speakers. The living room stinks of weed, boy-sweat, and leftover takeout souring in open containers.

Thanos slouches on the battered couch, one leg thrown over the other, smoke curling from the joint pinched between his fingers. His eyes are low and half-lidded as he tiredly smirks at the game on the TV.

“I said left. Left, my boy. You cross-eyed or what?”

Minsu, your younger brother, who’s curled on the floor by the coffee table, doesn’t answer. He grips the controller, trying to keep his fingers from shaking.

He’s always tense around Thanos and Namgyu, shrinking smaller with every word. Like he knows one wrong comment could get him mocked or worse.

Thanos laughs, slow and airy, the blunt hanging from the corner of his mouth now, the ember flaring with each chuckle as he cuts a glance your way—brief, but heavy.

“Can’t even blame you, bro. With your sister walking around with legs like that? I mean, shit, I’d be missin’ my shots too.”

Minsu stiffens, but he doesn’t dare look at you. “Shut up, Thanos.”

Thanos lifts both hands, grin crooked. “What? She’s hot as fuck.”

Through their banter, all you can notice is Namgyu.

Off to the side, he lets out a soft, amused scoff.

He’s sprawled on the floor beside the couch, leaning back on one elbow. His band tee rides up his ribs, showing a slice of pale skin dusted with freckles and faded bruises. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, the waistband dipping under sharp v-lines, revealing a dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the cotton.

But he’s not playing the game.

His eyes are on you.

You move quietly through the room, a glass of water cradled in your hand and suddenly your sleep clothes feel thinner than ever. An old white tank top hugs your chest, the cotton just sheer enough to show the shape of your nipples in the glow from the TV screen. Your pajama shorts are patterned with tiny Hello Kitty faces, cut short enough to bare nearly all the curve of your ass. No bra. No underwear. You hadn’t thought twice slipping them on…but now, under Namgyu’s stare, you suddenly feel naked.

Part of you wants to vanish, to escape the heat crawling up your neck, the vile things they say when they think you’re not really listening. You don’t want to hear it—don’t even want to know how your brother’s nasty friends look at you, how they talk about you like you’re just another thing to fuck—but something sick keeps you rooted in place for a second.

Maybe it’s the way Namgyu’s stare pins you down, slow and deliberate, like he’s already imagined the shape of your mouth around his dick countless times, like he’s cataloguing how your skin would taste beneath his tongue.

Or maybe it’s the soft metallic flick of his knife, over and over, in a rhythm that feels almost hypnotic. Or maybe it’s how Minsu just sits there, small and silent, knuckles white on the controller, too afraid to speak up.

You hate how they treat him.

How Thanos talks to him like he’s a child. How Namgyu never even bothers to hide the way he laughs when Minsu flinches. You’ve tried to bring it up before, to ask why he keeps letting them walk all over him.

But every time you mention it, Minsu shuts down. Gets defensive. Upset. “They’re just messing around,” he’ll mutter, face flushed, voice brittle. “It’s not a big deal.”

It is, though. You see it in his shoulders. The way he tenses. The way he won’t look anyone in the eye when they speak to him.

But he won’t let you fix it, so now you just watch as Namgyu’s gaze tracks you, unblinking. His lips curl into a shit-eating grin, the small switchblade in his hand flicking open and shut, the sound like a ticking time bomb counting down to your demise.

Click. Click. Click.

Slowly, he sets the small pocket knife down beside him on the carpet. Then, with a mocking glint in his eyes, Namgyu lifts both hands, curling his fingers into a circle and holds them over one eye like a fake telescope, twisting his wrists and squinting through it as he blatantly scopes out your chest and hips.

“She’s always strutting around, Minsu.” Namgyu murmurs, voice dipping into something low and taunting. “Practically begging someone to look. Bet it fucks you up, huh? Seein’ your own sister like that?”

Minsu’s voice cracks. “D-don’t talk about her.”

Namgyu doesn’t even glance at him. “Or what?” he says bitterly, licking the edge of his lower lip, eyes locked on you.

Heat rushes up your neck, your stomach twisting tight.

Before you can hear another word, you pivot and rush down the corridor, your heart pounding and your skin still burning beneath the weight of Namgyu’s stare.

By the time the game fades into background noise, you’re pacing in your room, the cold press of the water glass doing little to soothe the heat coiled in your chest. It’s not even the way Namgyu talked about you—low and mocking, too intimate for a casual joke—it’s the way he looked at you. That heavy, lingering stare. The way he mimed staring earlier, not bothering to hide how he pictured you. As if your body was nothing more than entertainment. A toy. Something meant to be ogled at and handled and ruined.

Your chest tightens. You want to be angry. Furious, even. But all you can think about is the way his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, how lazy and possessive his stare felt. As if he already knew what you looked like underneath your stupid shorts. As if he’d played this scene out in his head a thousand times and tonight, he was just getting cocky about it.

You hate it.

You hate how your thighs press together as the warmth between them grows thick and shameful.

You hate how your skin still prickles where his eyes touched it. How much of you he’s gotten without ever laying a hand.

You should’ve said something. Done something.

Instead, you let him look. You stood there.

And now it feels like he knows what he does to you.

The water glass leaves a wet ring on your dresser as you set it down and creep toward your door, fingers curling around the handle. You ease it open and slip out into the hallway, hoping to make it to the bathroom undetected. Maybe splash cold water on your face. Maybe breathe.

But you don’t get far.

You slam straight into someone’s chest and stumble back with a startled gasp.

Namgyu.

He’s standing in the dim hallway light, shirt rumpled, eyes dark and blocking your path completely.

But that’s not what makes your stomach drop.

Dangling from his fingers is something soft and bright pink. Something unmistakably yours.

Your panties.

Your breath catches, mouth falling open as your cheeks flush in disbelief. “Namgyu, what the fuck?!”

He doesn’t even flinch.

Instead, a slow, filthy grin spreads across his face. He lifts the panties to his nose and inhales deep. His eyelids flutter, his nostrils flare, and a low, contented sound rumbles from the back of his throat—something close to a purr.

“Still fresh.”

Heat explodes in your cheeks and your voice comes out in a harsh whisper. “Ew, you perv! Where the hell did you get those?!”

“Took ‘em after you showered yesterday.” he says casually. “Been driving myself insane thinking about how warm your pussy must’ve been to leave them smelling like that. I even thought about jerking off with them last night…but I figured I’d savor them first.”

He steps in close. You try to shrink back, but there’s nowhere to go. His knuckles brush the hem of your Hello Kitty shorts, fingers skimming your thigh. His gaze drops to your legs, then back up.

“You walk around like this, y’know.” he mutters. “All cute and clueless in these tiny shorts, acting like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“You’re disgusting.” you snap.

He just laughs under his breath. “And you like it.”

You glare at him. “Give them back.”

Namgyu lifts the panties just out of reach. “What? Gonna cry to Minsu? Think he’s gonna come save his poor older sister? He barely says shit when I call him a fucking loser to his face. You think he’s gonna man up for you?”

Your stomach twists, the TV still blaring in the other room.

Minsu’s right there.

“Don’t act so shy now…you’ve been waiting for me to say something. Looking over your shoulder every time you bend over in front of me and pretending you don’t notice.”

“Stop!” you whisper. “Minsu will hear you—”

He huffs out a laugh. “So be quiet before I make you myself.” His hand drags slowly over your shorts, just enough for you to feel it—his palm grazing your cunt. He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, whispering, “Bet you’ll beg me like a pathetic little whore when I finally play with this pussy too.”

Shame flashes hot across your skin, your breath catching as your thighs press together instinctively—too slow to stop the way your hips twitch toward his touch.

Before he can do anything else, you grab his wrist and yank him into the bathroom.

The second the latch closes, he’s on you again.

Namgyu slams you against the bathroom door, his mouth crashing down on yours—hot, messy, tasting like marijuana and something chemical that makes your head spin. You shove at his chest with both hands, but it’s like pushing a wall. He doesn’t move. Just groans into your mouth, frantic already,

“Get off—” you start, but then there’s suddenly cold steel at your chest.

Namgyu’s switchblade flashes up between you, the flat of it gliding slow beneath the hem of your tank top. His hand trembles—not from fear of hurting you, but from the strain of holding back. He’s wanted this too long. Needed it. The moment buzzes in his bones, filthy and inevitable.

“Shhh…” he coos, almost gentle. “Lemme see these perfect tits.”

The blade flicks, slicing your shirt straight up the middle.

You gasp as the fabric splits, peeling off your chest. The cold air hits your skin, goosebumps rising across your bare breasts. The knife clatters to the tile, forgotten, and then he’s on you—grabbing, hands rough and thumbing your nipples until you’re gasping despite yourself.

“Fuck,” he groans, burying his face in your neck, nuzzling, sniffing, “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

His hand dives into your shorts, greedy and quick while the other still gropes one of your peaks.

He doesn’t even tease—just plunges his fingers down.

He finds your cunt warm and soaked.

“N-namgyu…” you whisper, dizzy. He smells like his musk and it drowns you.

He groans the second he feels you. His hips thrust forward instinctively, his hard cock pressing against you through his sweats. “This for me, noona?”

His voice cracks around the word. It sounds hungry, the honorific cutting through your haze. You flush instantly, and his smile widens.

“Ohh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he giggles, breathless.

“Y’like it when I call you noona?”

You whimper in response, and he twitches, eyes darkening as he kisses your jaw, again and again, murmuring sing-song between each brush of his lips, “Noona…noona…” His voice lingers on the syllables, almost lilting, half-mocking and half-adoring, like he’s testing the weight of it on his tongue—trying it out.

“I’ve never called you that before, have I?” he hums, sweet and cruel, dragging his fingers slow through your folds. “Noo~na.” he croons softly, almost to himself now.

“Shoulda known you’d go all dumb for it.”

He laughs under his breath, lips still brushing your skin.

“Didn’t see the point, Thought it was stupid. But if I knew you’d be shaking for me like this…?”

His voice dips, “I’d’ve said it the first day I met you.”

Your breath hitches, your hips twitching toward his hand without meaning to.

He notices. Of course he does.

His palm presses flat against your pussy, grinding slow and heavy. “Look at you,” he breathes, delighted. “Already falling apart for me.”

“F-fuck you.” you spit—but it’s weak, and his eyes visibly darken.

“Mouthy little bitch,” he sneers. “Don’t worry noona, I’ll shut you up.”

His hand slaps over your mouth, firm and fast.

Your moans die under his palm, strangled and soaked in heat. His fingers push into you, slick and deep, each piston into you angled to ruin. The cramped bathroom echoes with the obscene sound of your cunt sucking him in and out.

Namgyu groans, low and guttural, hips grinding against your front again, rutting into the soft curve of your lower belly. You try to twist away, shame prickling down your spine—but he crowds in tighter, pinning you between his chest and the door, breath hot and filthy against your cheek.

“C’monnn…be quiet for me, noona. Don’t want your baby brother hearin’ how much you love getting touched by someone younger than you, do you?”

Humiliation spreads under your skin and your eyes squeeze shut. You can hear it—the wet, obscene sound of him knuckle-deep in you, the way your hips stutter into his hand no matter how hard you try to hold still.

He feels it. The way you clench—and it only spurs him on. His grin presses against your cheek as his pace turns brutal, every thrust of his fingers knocking a breath from your lungs, until your knees buckle hard against the doorframe.

Then his voice lowers, turning mean again.

“Or maybe it’s not Minsu you’re worried about.”

Your breath hitches behind his palm. He leans in close, his nose grazing your temple.

“Maybe you want Thanos to see you like this.”

Your whole body jerks and you shake your head wildly, but it doesn’t matter.

“You don’t even know half of what he says about you,” Namgyu goes on, teeth clicking. “Think dude’s obsessed with your tits. Bet he’d shove you down on your knees and fuck ’em right there in front of your brother.”

A muffled sob punches from your throat, eyes wide, legs trembling beneath you.

Namgyu groans again, deeper, fucking his fingers into you with renewed force. “But you don’t want Thanos, right?” His voice splinters with need. “This pussy’s not for him.”

You whimper under his hand, hips jolting into his palm, betraying you.

“No—” you gasp against his fingers, barely audible.

He slows, keeps his fingers buried deep, grinding them with deliberate pressure. “No?” His breath is sharp against your ear. “Just for me then, huh?”

Your head slumps back against his shoulder, thighs shaking. Humiliation coils low in your gut—but your cunt squeezes around his fingers, so wet it sounds desperate.

He releases your mouth finally and seizes your lips in a rough, claiming kiss, tongue pushing deep, devouring every sound you make.

“Say it, noona.” he pants between kisses, voice unraveling. “Say it’s mine.”

Your lips part, gasping. Your voice cracks, broken. “It’s yours.”

Namgyu groans, shattered, the sound rasping from his throat. “Good fucking girl.”

“You gonna cum on my fingers?” You attempt to hold it back, but it’s already crashing over you—your thighs trembling as you let out sharp little gasps of pleasure. Your pussy flutters helplessly around him, right at the edge. Namgyu whispers in your ear, “Please, noona…be a good little slut and make a mess f’me.”

“Oh fuck—Namgyu!” Your orgasm hits hard—sharp and blinding—your pussy pulsing around his fingers with a filthy, wet suction that makes him groan deeply in his chest. Your hands slam against the door, nails scraping the wood as your hips twitch against it.

Namgyu pulls his fingers out slowly, relishing the slickness as it stretches in glistening strands. He brings them to his mouth, sucking one clean, eyes rolling back at the taste of you.

Before you can even recollect yourself, Namgyu seizes your wrist and yanks you down to the ground. You crash hard onto your knees, dazed, and he leans back against the tub’s edge, legs spread and sweatpants now pushed down past his hips. His cock is flushed and hard, glistening with the mess he created while teasing you, already twitching with anticipation. “Get that pretty little mouth on me, noona.”

“C’mere and show me how badly you want it.”

You gaze up at him—lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. His smirk twists cruelly as he sits back, his cock heavy in his fist.

“That’s it…now crawl to me.”

Heat floods your cheeks. Your thighs quiver as you drop down onto your hands and knees, slickness still dripping between them, knees squeaking against the cold tile. You inch forward slowly, your eyes fixed on his cock—his gaze locked onto you.

He strokes himself lazily as you move, enjoying the show. “Cute little noona. Crawling for my cock like a fucking mutt.”

He grins. “Open.”

You shoot him a look, lips tight. You hesitate just a second too long.

His smile fades, replaced by something darker. His fist knots in your hair, yanking your head forward.

“I said open, noona.”

You bare your teeth, but you do it—mouth wide, tongue out—and he slaps his cock against it, once, twice, wet and heavy.

“Fuuuck, there we go,” he pants, rocking his hips forward. “Just like that.”

You choke as he feeds more in—your throat tightening, drool spilling from the corners of your lips. He moves slow at first, savoring every inch until you gag around him. “Shit, you sound so good choking on it,” he groans, his grip on your hair tightening. “You fucking love this don’t you?”

You moan, more in frustration than pleasure, your nails digging into his thighs. He tastes salty, like something you shouldn’t crave, but you arch towards him anyway, greedy.

“You’d let me cum on your face, wouldn’t you noona?” he pants, his cock twitching against your tongue. “Or right on your tongue…yeah, I just know you’d take it so well.”

You whimper, and he lets out a ragged moan, hips stuttering.

“W-was about to coat this pretty face,” he grits out, dragging you off his cock with a wet pop. You gasp, coughing, spit trailing from your lips. “But right now…”

He hauls you up, spins you, and lifts you onto the bathroom counter. He shoves your shorts down just far enough to make room, The porcelain biting into your bare ass. You yelp at the cold, and then again when his hands shove your thighs apart.

“This pussy’s still leaking,” he mutters, stroking himself once before dragging the swollen tip through your soaked folds. “I think you need a good dicking.”

You glare at him, breath ragged. “Just s-shut up and fuck me.”

“Fuck…don’t gotta tell me twice.”

He lines up and drives in—one brutal thrust to the base, splitting you open with a loud, wet slap.

You cry out, nails digging into the edge of the counter. The mirror behind you rattles.

His grip bruises your hips as he starts pounding into you—deep, rough, no rhythm, just raw need. Each thrust knocks you back, cunt gushing with every slap.

“You hear that?” he spits, breath catching. “Listen to that sloppy pussy—fuck, you were made for this.”

You sob into your arm, overwhelmed and aching, but your hips still chase his. It’s pathetic.

“Cockdrunk noona, stuffed like a whore on her own fucking sink.”

His hand slips between you, thumb finding your clit to rub it hard and ruthlessly. Sparks shoot through you, your body already trembling from the next orgasm building low in your gut.

“Say thank you, Namgyu,” he growls.

You shake your head and his grin turns feral.

“Fine. I’ll make you say it.” He thrusts into you harder, crueler, his thumb grinding down against your clit without mercy. Your body jerks with each snap of his hips, loud wet slaps echoing in the room as he fucks you through your resistance. You choke on a moan, teeth gritted, fingers clawing at anything you can reach.

He doesn’t let up. Just pounds into you, deep and brutal, your walls clenching around him with every thrust. He drags his cock out slowly—almost all the way—before slamming back in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. Again. And again.

“Fucked stupid and still begging for more. look at you suck me in,” he hisses, watching your face twist in helpless pleasure. “You gonna cum again? Be a good little fuckdoll for me?”

You try, God, you try, but your body gives out first. your orgasm rips through you without warning, raw and violent, soaking his cock with a loud, messy gush. You scream, back arching, thighs shaking where he holds them open. Your cunt pulses hard around him, fluttering and clenching with every wave crashing through you.

“T-thank you, Namgyu…” you choke out, voice wrecked.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it,” Namgyu groans and slams in one last time, spilling inside you with a sharp curse. His cock pulses deep, stuffing you full.

He stays buried, panting against your neck, both of you trembling, skin sticky with sweat.

When he finally pulls out, he cums all over your pussy—thick, hot spurts painting your folds and leaking down onto the counter beneath you. His release drips from your swollen cunt in obscene trails, pooling messily.

“Can’t waste a drop,” he huffs, gaze locked on the mess. Then he grabs your bunched-up shorts and tugs them back up over your thighs, sealing it in. “Keep it in, noona.” Then a slow, filthy pat between your legs. “Want you to feel me on you.”

You look at him—glassy-eyed, ruined. “You’re sick.”

Before he can respond, Thanos’ voice drifts in from the hallway. “Yo, Namsu! You good in there?”

Namgyu’s cock twitches against your thigh as he leans in, teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“Go on, pretty. Answer him for me.”

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚ tags: @mashtatosworld @loveesiren @szonyix6277 @seungttttop @xxtoptaexx @tabibabib @s4intkwon @heartubeatusalon @breakmeoff @gdinthehouseee @septywitch @aizshallnotbefound @namsgyu @thanosspills @flymetothexmoon contact me if you want to be added to or removed from my permanent taglist

[hearts4hughes]

double date with bsf!rafe, but instead of focusing on his date he focuses on reader🫣

“what?” he asks, his ears ringing from what he thought he heard you say.

“a double date.” you repeat, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. you were on rafe’s bed, wearing his pajama pants, and you had the nerve to bring up a double date.

he scratched the back of his neck, his palms suddenly clammy. he was just about to laugh and say no, then, he saw your face. you look up from your phone and stare at him. your lip is pulling downwards into a frown and your eyes are all doe and sweet. he huffs, “who would i even go with? who would you even go with?”

“i could go with dom,” you shrug. that name was like a trigger for rafe. dom…as in dominic…as in the asshole he caught you pressed up against in the hallway while he was looking for you. the sound of you laughing—high and breathless—was still stuck behind rafe’s teeth. the way dom had leaned in like he owned you. the way your hand was twisted in his shirt, your mouth parted like— “and you could go with vanessa,” you add, completely unaware of the bomb you just lit.

rafe forces a breath through his nose. “you’re serious.”

“yeah.” you don’t look up this time. “it’ll be fun.”

he walks to the foot of the bed. the floorboards creak under the weight of his trudges. “fun.” you glance at him now, sensing the shift. the air is different. it’s heavier. he leans against the wall, arms crossed, studying you like you’re a problem he doesn’t know how to solve. “since when do you like dom?”

“i don’t,” you say too quickly. “i mean…we’ve been texting, that’s all. it’s not like I’m marrying him, relax.” he doesn’t relax. his jaw flexes. you go quiet again, eyes back on your screen. “he’s nice.”

rafe snorts, hand running over his face then through his messy hair. “he’s a fucking moron.”

“he’s sweet.”

“he thinks your last name is cameron.”

you grin at that, in spite of yourself. “i mean, we are attached at the hip.”

wrong thing to say. his face goes blank. the dangerous type of blank. “so you’re going on a date with him?”

you blink at him. “i said we were going on a date. a double date.”

rafe runs a hand through his hair once again. “and vanessa? really?” he begins pacing. how could he do this? how was he supposed to pretend he wasn’t in love with you for a whole night?

you cock your head. “you hooked up with her twice.”

“once,” he mutters. “and I didn’t finish.” he adds, recounting the memory with a wince.

your mouth opens. “ew.”

he smirks, like that was the goal. then his face drops again. “why him, though?”

you look at him. really look at him. “i don’t know. he’s cute, funny, tall.”

“i’m tall.” he murmurs under his breath. your eyes flick to his.

“what was that?” you ask, tossing your phone to the side and allowing your body to fall backwards into the bed. rafe’s breath hitches. you have no idea how beautiful you look right now. your hair is slightly messy, makeup rubbed off to reveal your natural features, and you’re still talking about a double date.

he takes a step closer to the bed. then another. “nothing.” he mutters in a tone that makes you flinch. he plops down onto the gray comforter, the bed dipping under his weight. he stares straight for a moment, focusing on the cracks in the doorframe before turning his head to look at you. you seem to have gotten closer, or maybe he just didn’t notice before. his eyes flick to your lips for a millisecond—fuck. hopefully you didn’t notice that.

“next week. 7 o’clock. have an open mind about this, rafey.” you spring up to your feet and press a chaste kiss on his cheek before heading for the door. as you leave the room, he cranes his head to watch you walk down the hall. your hips sway with each step and he groans, falling back onto the bed and squeezing his eyes shut.

~

next week came too fast. suddenly it’s thursday night, 6:52 pm, and rafe’s outside your apartment building with his fists clenched on the steering wheel like he’s driving into battle.

marley—no, vanessa, whatever—sits in the passenger seat humming to the radio. something poppy and grating. something that makes his head throb. she’s wearing a tube top and perfume that’s way too loud. rafe doesn’t say a word. he’s not really looking at her anyway.

his eyes are locked on your front door. and when you step out, he forgets how to breathe. because it’s you. it’s you in that tiny little black dress with your hair all pinned back and your lip gloss just slightly smudged, and you’re smiling like this is funny, like this isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.

and then he walks out behind you. dom—fucking dom—with his smug grin and his arm slung over your shoulder like he was born to touch you. he’s saying something in your ear and you laugh, and rafe almost rips the steering wheel off the column.

“you said this was gonna be fun,” vanessa says, looking over at him. “are you gonna talk to me at some point?” he doesn’t answer. just throws the car in park and gets out, moving faster than he should. “you look…” he trails off when he gets close enough to smell you. “late.”

you grin. “it’s 6:59.”

dom holds out a hand. “yo, what’s up, man.”

rafe barely touches him. his smile is cold. “you remember vanessa,” he says instead, turning to you. “think you met her at that party.” he tries not to even think about that party. it’s the one where you and dom met. it’s also the one where rafe fucked vanessa in a jealous rage.

“i did,” you say sweetly. “and you know dom.” your eyes sparkle. you know exactly what you’re doing. rafe wants to grab you by the waist and drag you back inside. instead, he opens the door for you and glares at dom when he tries to help you in.

~

the restaurant is nice. not too fancy, not too casual. the kind of place where everyone tries too hard and the bread is cold but artisanal. you and dom slide into the booth side by side. vanessa immediately scoots in beside rafe and starts playing with his sleeve. he doesn’t move; doesn’t even blink.

all because you’re across from him, your thigh brushing against dom’s, your fingers delicately touching his wine glass, your laugh a little too loud and a little too bright.

“you always wear black?” dom teases, and you nod like it’s some shared secret.

“goes with everything. matches my soul.” your eyes sparkle and rafe almost screams. his eye twitches. his soul does too. you haven’t looked at him once—not directly. you’re punishing him for something, and the worst part is, he’d let you.

vanessa giggles. “babe, you okay?”

babe. you usually call him that—drunk, teasing, curled up in his passenger seat with your head on his shoulder. “fine,” he mutters. the night drags. every laugh you give dom is a knife in his chest. every time dom leans in to whisper something in your ear, rafe imagines slamming his head into the table. but he smiles and plays along. he lets vanessa kiss his cheek and rest her hand on his knee like he doesn’t want to peel it off.

that’s until dessert. because dom, the idiot, the dead man, feeds you a bite of chocolate mousse, wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb, and you let him. “fuck this,” rafe says, standing up so fast his glass nearly tips. the restaurant seems to pause. heads turn towards your table. vanessa keeps her head down as dom furrows his brows.

you blink. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” he says, already moving around the table. “except i’m done pretending this is normal.”

you’re on your feet now, stunned. “rafe-”

he doesn’t give you time to stop him. he grabs your hand and pulls you after him, ignoring dom’s dude, seriously? and vanessa’s shocked gasp. you stumble behind him out the door, the cool night air hitting your bare shoulders as he drags you to the car. he opens the passenger side and looks at you. he’s practically tapping his foot on the ground.

you cross your arms. “you’re insane.”

“get in the car.”

you stare, mouth slightly agape. “why?”

he steps closer. voice low and taut. “because if you stay here another second, i’m gonna do something violent.”

your heart skips. then you smile. it’s slow, amused, infuriating. “what happened to having an open mind?”

his hand grazes your hip. it’s silent for a beat or two. “you liked that,” he says suddenly. “you wanted to make me mad.” you don’t deny it. instead, you slip past him and slide into the seat. he exhales once, sharp, and shuts the door behind you.

twenty minutes later, you’re in his room again. same bed, same hoodie on your body, but everything is different. this time, you’re on your knees on the mattress, fingers tugging at his belt, and he’s watching you like he’s starving. “you’re such a brat,” he mutters, voice thick. “flirting with him right in front of me.”

you smirk. “not my fault you have a jealous streak.”

he grabs your jaw, forces your face up to meet his. “you were never gonna fuck him.”

“i might’ve-”

“don’t.” he commands. you go quiet. his thumb brushes your lip. “you’re mine,” he says, low and certain. you nod, breath caught in your throat. “say it.”

“i’m yours.” you whisper. he kisses you like it’s a promise. like it’s war and he’s already won. when you wake up the next morning, tucked beneath his sheets, dom’s number is deleted from your phone, vanessa is blocked, and rafe’s hand is still possessive around your waist

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @restinpaece @illumoria @meetmeintheemeraldpool @miaaaoa @imtalkinnonsense @strawberrymilk99 @angel06babysworld @rafesteddy @drewrry @urcoolgf @thegirlnextdoorssister @sydneysslove @dsfault @missabsey @ivysturnss @kisses4rafey @katiebby04 @kelbrave @bebebambs @leviathan0000 @yolgart @jkmylove97 @blushhbambi @lightreadingty

[verdibaritones]

I'm an aging king whose wife doesn't love him and his son betrayed him and he can't sleep and he wants to die

I'm a bird man who wants to find a bird woman to marry

I want revenge on the bastard who seduced my sister and killed my father and I suspect my new boyfriend is the very man I seek but I promised him not to look through his stuff and I have HONOUR but I NEED to know and I'm also having a gay crisis probably

My mom was FALSELY ACCUSED of WITCHCRAFT and then BURNED at the STAKE and she screamed at me from the flames to AVENGE HER and I'm having ptsd about it

(continued) So I kidnapped the son of the guy who had my mom burned and I wanted to burn him but he was just an innocent kid and I hesitated and then my mom's ghost showed up and yelled at me and I was a wee bit stressed out and I accidentally threw my OWN kid in the fire. whoops

I'm dying of tuberculosis but somehow singing this gorgeous aria with perfect breath control

you FUCKERS give me back my daughter RIGHT NOW! or I will cry

I'm an emo bass I hate everyone and I also want the MacGuffin my dad fumbled. it probably won't make me happy tho. I wish dad would buy me some death metal merch

I'm an evil bass and I'm essentially singing Hellfire: Opera Edition about the sexy baritone twink. I'm having a gay crisis.

what if we cancelled the tenor REALLY hard. slandered him. spilled the tea to all the tabloids.

I did HORRIBLE THINGS to gain the throne and now my life SUCKS and my family is SUFFERING and the country is in SHAMBLES and also the child I had assassinated haunts me and I'm losing it

I'm the hottest celebrity in these parts and I just MURDERED a poor ANIMAL after my assistants tortured it for a while and the crowd LOVED IT

I am summoning SATAN to tell people THE FUTURE

I am Satan and I'm trolling everyone with this banger song (unrelated to the previous one)

I'm going to kill the tenor and fuck the soprano. #justbaritonethings amirite. oh wait I'm in church.

MOTHER I AM COMING TO THY AID! but first lemme just. just a couple high Cs. I AM IN A GREAT HURRY! okay one more high C

I'm going to have y'all bitches hanged it will be so funny trust me.

I am in CONSTANT UNIMAGINABLE PAIN and you fuckers want me to USE THE MAGIC THING that keeps me alive?! fuck you. I'm not doing this. I'm an unworthy sinner. can someone just PLEASE shank me already.

I'm sure my totally trustworthy and amazing husband will return soon and everything will be alright and I definitely won't have to die to preserve my HONOUR

(later) update: unfortunately my totally trustworthy and amazing husband is a lying cheating two-timing fuck but I still love him for some reason and he wants to take our kid with him oh and he has a new wife so I guess I'm committing seppuku for honour reasons

I will never fuck. I am unfuckable. I will put your head on a SPIKE.

so there is this cursed undead sailor and I'm a YA novel heroine destined to save him. I haven't even met him yet btw, I'm just obsessed with this picture of him

let me give you a "quick" recap about the lore so far and also angst about my fuckups and my inevitable doom

so I met this hot brooding tenor who saved my life! yeah he's my brother's archenemy. what could possibly go wrong in this lovely, haunted Scottish castle we live in

can you dumbass motherfuckers STOP FIGHTING EACH OTHER for FIVE MINUTES? I'm so fucking done with this entire city. Why did I ever accept this position.

(continued) hey, you. Obviously Evil Advisor who is definitely not going to poison me after the intermission. let me just intimidate you and force you to say a horrible curse upon yourself. yeah bitch this is the most "why do I hear boss music" moment ever.

“I don’t like this song because I can’t relate to it” skill issue. I’m mad at my husband I love my girlfriend I’m a lone cowboy I’m growing old I’m growing up I’m depressed I love my friends I’m perpetually horny I’m drunk at the club I love my husband again

[spearofheaven]

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE— ex boyfriend! gojo satoru

SUM. alone in a hotel room with your ex boyfriend after he pulled a risky stunt. what could go wrong?

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. non canon compliant/au. no plot just porn. x fem reader. 3k words. gojo’s lowk an idiot. ex sex. unprotected p in v. cunnilingus and fingering. creampie. some hints of body worship. nipple play. panty sniffing + panty taking. missionary. hair pulling (m receiving). belly bulge. some aftercare. unresolved feelings. reader probs folded too fast idk.

A/N. if you recognize this smut scene, no you don’t 🫡 #reuse reduce recycle

you knew this mission was bound for failure the moment principal yaga opened his mouth to announce that you and gojo were working together. no exceptions.

why he needed help in the first place was beyond you.

he was loud, arrogant, cocky, but he knew how to handle himself well (you would rather die than admit it, though).

and he also happened to conveniently be your ex boyfriend.

your ex boyfriend who you haven’t spoken to since your breakup—despite his various attempts to reach out to you: from extravagant bouquets waiting for you on your doorstep to cashapp requests in the thousands asking for you to unblock him. (which you accepted but never unblocked).

tensions had been running high since the moment the two of you stepped foot into your hotel. arguments left unsaid, lingering looks that the two of you ignored far too well. all until today, of course. when the idiot made the mistake of getting too close and letting his guard down, just for the sake of showing off to the first years.

“do you just get off on going against instructions? you could’ve gotten hurt.” you’d been nagging in his ear for the entirety of the way back, though he wasn’t complaining. after a couple months of silence, this was practically music.

“you still care about me, sweets? i’m flattered.” gojo could practically see the smoke coming out of your ears with that response.

"well, yes. but that’s not the point. you just can't do anything by the rules, can you? i swear, it's like it goes in one ear and ou-" your complaints were quickly shut down, his lips pressing against your own before you could even muster what was happening.

every single atom in your body was screaming to push him away, not to do this. again. but instead of doing just that, your fingers dug into his shirt and pulled him all that much closer.

kissing him felt all too familiar—a practiced dance you hadn’t quite managed to forget all the moves to. “be mad at me later, just.. let me have this please,” he pleaded, pressing his forehead against your own.

and you were certain that the man had done witchcraft, gotten some spell from a witch on etsy that’d been activated with the kiss, because somehow, someway, you found yourself nodding.

satoru hooked his fingers underneath your thighs, squeezing the supple flesh once while he made his way over to the bed. “mmph, fuck, i missed you baby,” he let out a quiet moan against your lips.

“shut it,” was your response, nibbling down on his bottom lip. your nails raked through his hair, tugging at the strands when you pulled him closer.

“yes ma’am,” satoru breathed out, walking over to the california king bed in the middle of the room before gently placing you down. you practically melted into the expensive silk sheets. (courtesy of gojo having millions upon millions to blow)

every second was savored—not willing himself to stay away from you for too long. he was hovering above you in a matter of seconds, holding your chin in between your fingers, “can i?”

once again, every thought in your mind was telling you to push him away. to remember how little he made you feel. “yes,” your mouth had a mind of its own, answering him before you thought better of it.

satoru let out a sigh, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “are you sure? i want you to want me. to want this as much as i do.”

you shook your head, reaching up and pressing your palm against his cheek. he was like a pathetic puppy, rubbing against your touch. “i do want it, toru. i want you.”

his touch was careful, almost like unraveling an expensive gift he didn’t quite want to ruin the wrapping of. a strangled breath left him upon seeing your lingerie, cerulean and lace framing your body in the best damn present he’d opened.

a cerulean blue that was too similar to his eye color—too much for him to deem as a coincidence.

looking over at you in disbelief, he asked, “when’d you make the switch to agent provocateur?”

you raised a brow at how quickly he recognized the material—deciding to leave it be though, “ever since i had seven grand to blow from a veryyy generous donor last week.”

satoru let out a quiet scoff, tracing the outline of the lace on your bra with the tip of his finger. his thumb barely circled against your clothed nipple, a featherlight touch, “and just who were you planning on showing this pretty set to?”

“wouldn’t you like to know weather boy?” a scoff of your own left your lips, rolling your eyes. but he was already in his own little world by now.

satoru had been deprived of the taste of you for months now—the very feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips nearly having him break out in a moan.

every nerve in his brain seemed to go haywire when he pressed his lips against your neck, the lingering scent of your perfume intoxicating whatever brain cells remained in that big noggin.

"did you just moan?" you raised your head as you looked down at him. never mind, not almost.

“you taste and smell good, what did you expect?” he licked a stripe down your neck, reaching your collarbone. gojo gently pulled the skin in between his teeth, sucking at the flesh. determined to leave a mark—even if you’d just have him for today.

each kiss trailed lower and lower down until he got to your shoulder, unable to resist the urge of snapping your bra strap. before you had the chance to glare at him, he reached for your back—unclasping the hooks and tossing your $300 bra to the floor.

you nearly winced.

“there’s my girls.” satoru took one of your breasts in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple, “my favorite girls. missed them too, missed everything about you, baby.”

one of his large hands engulfed your other breast, rolling his thumb against your areola while he mindlessly sucked on the one in his mouth. “there you go. arch your back for me, sweetheart.” a groan left his lips, slipping his knee in between your legs to keep them open.

satoru alternated between each breast, giving each equal attention. leaving your nipples hard and covered in his spit. “so pretty,” he whispered in awe, giving each a farewell kiss.

he made his way down to your navel, pressing chaste kisses to whatever skin he had access to. kissing everywhere but where you needed him most—where he was rubbing his knee against.

you almost expected him to pounce up at the first opportunity, but instead, he settled by the foot of the bed. his touch featherlight as he dragged his fingers from your ankle to your calf, eliciting goosebumps down your spine in his wake.

“i’m sorry,” satoru started off, pressing his lips against your right calf before moving on to the left. “never wanted to make you break up with me,” he continued, kissing his way up your leg.

not a single inch of your body went untouched by his lips before he moved up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. you raised your hips, letting him slide them down your legs.

he looked up at you with puppy eyes, holding the slick-covered panties in his hand. a silent request.

your eyes narrowed, “no. you’re not keeping those.”

satoru let out a whine, bringing your panties up to his nose. taking an audible whiff and closing his eyes, practically relishing in the lace. “oh come on, i’m the one who got you these, technically.”

“generous donor, since we’re getting technical,” you shrugged, “put the merchandise down on the floor.”

“i’ll get you ten more. twenty, if that’s what you want. just let me keep these,” he spoke quickly, watching the way your eyes practically turned into money signs. “and maybe if you just show them off to me.”

he’d already spent over seven grand, what was a couple more thousand?

you looked at the pair in his hand, before shrugging, “i’ll be generous and only ask for fifteen.”

satoru quickly pocketed your panties, kissing up your thigh. “the most generous,” he mused, nibbling on your inner thigh. his hands spread your legs out, presenting to him like one of the finest meals.

and he was more than ready to feast.

he leaned forward, swiping his tongue in between your folds. your fingers ran through his hair again, gripping his hair tightly. or at least.. you thought your grip was tight. it was hard to tell when satoru moaned regardless, sucking on your folds.

“so good, so good, use me, i’m all yours, always been,” just one taste of you again was enough to have him pussy drunk, babbling against your cunt. you pushed his head further into your cunt, swiveling your hips against his eager tongue, “yeah, yeah, just like that, don’t stop.”

you looked over to see satoru laying down on his stomach, completely at bliss slurping and sucking at your cunt with his feet swinging back and forth. if his mouth and hands weren’t busy, you had no doubt that he’d be twirling his hair and giggling.

“come onnn, let me know how i’m good i’m making you feel,” he pouted as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, his lips glossed over with your slick.

"fuck you," you bit down on your lip, gritting the words out in an attempt to keep any moans at bay.

"aht, aht, that's my job, cutie. and first, you gotta tell me what you want," satoru gave your thigh a loud smooch, his fingertips tracing your folds and barely dipping inside of your dripping cunt before he’d pull away. only to repeat it again.

in a moment of weakness, you found yourself relenting, “your fingers, toru. please,” it came out low, barely enough for his ears to register. and almost like clockwork, he took that opportunity to tease you further.

“what was that, baby? couldn’t really hear you,” he retorted, clicking his tongue. when you went to open your mouth, he pushed his fingers inside of your cunt. the loud squelch cutting you off completely.

“your. fingers,” you gritted out, your request coming out louder, “please.” only the bastard would make you beg after apologizing to you.

he pushed his fingers inside of you yet again, bringing them to his lips and swirling his tongue around them, “please what?” another tease.

“please, toru. i want your fingers,” a whine was evident in your voice.

“there we go, baby. that wasn’t so hard, hm?” his fingers thrusted inside of you once more, curling in a come hither motion.

satoru closed his lips around your puffy clit, sucking on it before swirling his tongue. he started with drawing small circles on your nub, before your brows furrowed.

he was using your damn clit as a writing board.

the tip of his tongue carefully spelled each letter,

‘I. LOVE. YOU.’

“seriously?” it came out shakier than you would’ve liked, little gasps and unsteady breaths leaving your lips.

“mhm,” he didn’t bother on elaborating further, covering your clit in his spit as he sucked. the curl of his fingers hit that spot inside of you with each thrust, his fingers thrusting deeper than even some of your toys.

“ah ah, fuck!” you let out a moan, hips bucking into his face to meet his tongue frantically. “don’t stop, don’t stop, just like that!” each swipe and thrust brought you closer and closer, your back nearly off the mattress.

satoru simply shook his head, swiping his tongue back and forth. the idea was simply absurd—that he was even capable of thinking to stop. “not gonna stop, baby. just wanna keep tasting you,” he responded, swinging his feet back and forth again in sync with his thrusts.

you weren’t sure if you hated him or you wanted to fuck him even more. maybe a little of both.

that familiar coil tightened in your lower stomach, your nails practically digging into his scalp in response. “ah fuck, yeah, dig them in there, i can take it, i can take it,” satoru was reduced to a babbling mess yet again, each whine vibrating against your clit.

“i’m close, i’m close, gonna cum,” your moans had him pushing his hips into the mattress, seeking anything to relief his aching cock. but—this wasn’t about him. it was about you first. “come for me, baby, take what you need.”

the coil inside of you snapped, your orgasm hitting you at once. your hips stilled, your release coating his fingers and spilling out onto the bedsheets underneath. he sucked his fingers, cleaning up every. single. last. dribble.

gojo wasted no time in unzipping his pants, sliding them down along with his boxers. freed from its confines, his cock sprung up against his stomach. pink tip twitching and all—dripping drop after drop of precum.

wrapping a hand around the base, he swiped the tip against your folds. much like he’d be swiping his card later. up and down, letting your slick coat the head before he slowly pushed it inside. pushing against that initial resistance.

“biggg stretch, there we go,” a hiss escaped from his lips, feeling your walls squeeze against him tightly. he had to close his eyes, refusing to look down at you. he knew that if he did, that would be all it would take for him to bust.

satoru placed your legs on his shoulders, slowly starting to move his hips forward. pushing inch by inch inside with each thrust, up until he could see his tip bulging in your lower tummy.

“toru?” your voice broke him out of the trance, hazy blues meeting your own glazed over expression.

“yes, baby?”

“you think maybe, just maybe, you could go a little faster?”

satoru broke out into a cheshire like grin, making you instantly regret your ask, “anything for you, my princess.”

*PLAP* *PLAP* *PLAP*

the sound of your skin slapping against his own, the sound of your moans and his shaky breaths filled the room, mixing in with the heavy stench of sex. satoru’s grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into you while he used your cunt how he pleased.

“that fast enough for you, baby?” satoru taunted, a smirk on his face. the sight in front of him was nothing short of perfect—from the way your jaw fell taut, drool leaking out from the corner of your lips with each punishing thrust. all the way down to the way your tits bounced, each bounce nearly putting him in a hypnosis.

“yes yes, fuck!” your hands dug into the bedsheets underneath as a lifeline, something to cling onto. you could even feel the slight curve to the left, each vein grazing your walls.

“y-yeah? finally good enough for you?” you could only nod in response, his cock drilling out every thought. your walls squeezed around him, toes curling against his back. you didn’t have to give him any warning this time—he simply knew.

“so good, so good,” you babbled like a broken record, his dick hitting your g-spot with such ease it had you wondering why you’d ever broken up with him in the first place.

“suck for me,” satoru prodded his thumb against your bottom lip. you instinctively parted your lips, swirling your tongue around it and sucking on it. all while keeping your eyes on him. he could’ve sworn you were trying to kill him now.

you released with a pop, his thumb glistening with your saliva. “ah fuck! keep going, keep going!” satoru rubbed quick circles against your clit, his own thrusts starting to grow sloppier and sloppier. heavy balls smacked against your ass with each push of his hips, one of his feet propped up against the mattress for an angle that had your eyes rolling back.

“t-toru! make me cum, please, please!” you whined, nails scraping against the cotton bedsheets. your walls clenched against him tightly, milking his cock, before your orgasm washed over you like a wave.

your release coated his shaft, your cunt squelching as he fucked you towards his own orgasm. he was close, so so close, but the man needed one more push. “tell me you love me, please,” his voice came out ragged, “i need you to tell me.”

“i love you, toru,” his name had never sounded so good, so sweet before. the quiet whisper of your admission was all it took to push him from the edge. a low groan left his lips, spurt after spurt of cum dripping inside of you. painting your walls white, pooling where he and you were still connected.

satoru pulled out carefully, the mixture of fluids dripping from his softening shaft onto the silk bedsheets underneath. “stay here, i’ll be right back with something to clean you off.”

he came back into the room with a wet hand towel from the guest bathroom, gently cleaning in between your legs. wiping away at the cum dripping down your legs, staining your thighs. “there we go, how are you feeling? you need water?” satoru tossed the towel to the side, pulling his pants back up.

“i’m good. but we should probably talk about this,” you gestured in between the two of you, “we both said.. a lot. and i do love you, toru. but just because we had sex doesn’t mean everything’s fixed between us.”

“i know,” gojo replied almost instantly, like he’d been equally dreading and looking forward to this conversation. “trust me, i know. i want to work things out with you. if you’ll let me.”

but for now, in the comfort of the hotel room, you allowed him to hold and snuggle against you like a human blanket. letting yourself momentarily enjoy the moment of peace before you reminded yourself that you were still exes.

yaga didn’t bother asking why the two of you showed up later than expected or why you two were less tense the next day.

[lambkinstock]

confessions

the tale of one (fictional) woman's journey (through fiction). told to you by way of a (fictional) story, featuring (fictional) characters.

✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚

If you’re reading this, you’re probably a pervert.

Yeah. You read that right. You’re a sad, lonely little pervert, and we’re all talking about you.

Really, we are. You keep us up at night. All you do is stare at your screen, scrolling and typing and clicking and posting. You’ve probably got a whole queue of posts dedicated to this shit, right? Weirdo. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have any friends?

Of course you don’t. You’re here! And if you’re reading this, it’s probably because you went looking for it.

That’s where our problem begins.

Joel clicks his fingers in front of your face. “Hey. Are you even listening to me?”

“What?” you ask, looking up from your phone. You’ve been talking to your only friend again; a gray floating head with shades on. You’re not sure what it is about them, this faceless figure: they just get you.

“Unbelievable,” Joel says. He shakes his head and struts off.

“I was listening,” you call, chasing after him. “I heard you.”

“What’d I say?”

“You said something about immorality. And therapy. About me needing therapy. Right?”

His jaw clenches, releasing some sort of disapproving grunt. He gauges the distance between you, making sure it’s a respectable, appropriate five feet before he responds. “That’s about it, yeah.”

“Yeah…” You scratch your head. “And what do I need therapy for again?”

Well, that sets him off.

His eyes widen in shock. He gestures between your body and his, gaping. “How about you trying to dream up some world where you and I are in a sexual relationship? I mean, my God, Fellow Legal Adult, it’s like you’re attracted to me or something.”

Fellow Legal Adult. This is his new thing, the nickname he’s been using since baby girl is too inappropriate in today’s climate. He calls his fictional daughters baby girl, and you’re wrong and sick and twisted for enjoying the sound of it in his waxy Texan accent.

“I just thought it might be some fun to imagine it,” you admit. “I don’t actually want to do it, I just want to play pretend and maybe write a story about doing it.”

“No,” Joel says. “Writing a story about something is the exact same as doing it. Every work of fiction ever is actually the writer’s endorsement of that thing. Shakespeare has been cancelled for years over Macbeth, or did you miss that Twitter thread?”

You pull at the skirt of your sundress. Shit – my bad, you’re not wearing a sundress. That’s overdone. Also kinda slutty. You’re only wearing it for easy access, right? Come on, now. This isn’t one of those fics from 2023, with zero plot and just sex. We’re better than that. We’re literates.

That’s why we’re on Tumblr.

You pull at the skirt of your frock. It’s now ankle-length and much more self-respecting. “I’m confused,” you reply. “So you’re saying no?”

“Yes.”

“You’re saying yes?”

Joel sighs, taking another conservative step back. “No. We can’t. This would be wrong.”

“What’s so wrong with it?” you ask, impatient now. You’ve met all the required terms and conditions of pursuing a romantic relationship with a man who does not, never has, and never will exist outside of the confines of your imagination.

You’re not his best friend’s daughter, because – ew, right? Who the fuck wants to fantasize about a clandestine summer fling with a mature, intelligent man who only has eyes for you, against all odds and rules of society; a man who would put his closest friendship on the line because you are just that insatiable to him; a man who treats you with the respect, trust, and – my God, I’m about to say it – the love that no other boy ever has or ever could?

It’s not like you’re calling him daddy, either. What fucking twisted piece of shit would do that? Doesn’t Joel know about the decades of usage of that term, the sheer number of people who buy into such whimsy, the little fantasy one might like to indulge in while existing on this hellish lump of rock and partake in sex so immoral, so filthy, so – incestuous? And here you are, promising to refrain from such practice. Protecting him and yourself from the dreaded patriarchy, which solely oppresses fictional characters, as everybody knows.

Really, he should be grateful.

Jesus, what else? You dress in a frock and petticoat; your ankles are never on display. You don’t allow yourself the fun of pretty, girlish clothes which feed the patriarchy and may lure the untrained eye into thinking you are – oh, Christ, a child! In actual fact, you’re fifty-two – supremely middle-aged – just like Joel. Actually, you never were a teenager, nor a twenty-year-old, not a dreaded, unsightly, geriatric thirty-year-old at all. And if you ever were, you sure as shit wouldn’t write fiction about it, because it is uncouth, tasteless, and downright predatory to imagine yourself a day younger than you currently are.

No. You marched straight from your poor mother’s body, armed with a smartphone in one hand, X-formerly-Twitter pre-downloaded, with some hefty conservative views to punch into it as soon as you learned how to spell the four most important words: romanticize, fetishize, sexualize and normalize. You’ve spent your entire life hunched over the thing, foaming at the mouth and wiping thick globs of saliva with the back of your hand; screaming at people you don’t know, will never know, and reminding them what ugly, loathsome, untalented, worthless people they are.

What the fuck isn’t there to like about you?

Joel sighs. He shakes his head, then reaches around to his back pocket for his phone.

“I have to check what the people online would say about this,” he says. “You know, the ones with blogs dedicated to policing this kind of thing. They give their summers up for this, Fellow Legal Adult, they’re really brave and inspiring and I owe them a lot for keeping my reputation safe. With all the innocent survivors I’ve killed over the years – not to mention the entire hospital I shot up to save one little girl – I really don’t need a completely fictional relationship to turn me into some kind of bad guy.”

“But it’s just fantasy,” you say. “None of it is real. You’re not even real.”

His jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

You scrape together an explanation.

“I just meant: nothing we do actually means anything. We’re just words on this person’s screen. Look at them, reading about us right now. We’re figments of their imagination! I wonder if I have brown or blue or green eyes; I wonder if you have a full beard or you’re the other guy with the curly hair. It wouldn’t matter either way, because neither of us exist! Right?”

“Not the point.” Joel shakes his head, logging in to his account. “It romanticizes unhealthy sex practices.”

“Joel,” you whisper, with love and patience, holding his little brain like it’s a smooth lump of damp clay. “We’re not actually having sex. Same as you didn’t actually blitz a hospital. And anyway, if I consent and you consent, and nobody gets hurt, what’s unhealthy about sex?”

“It normalizes kink and taboo, that’s what.” He nods, dignified, proud of the argument. It took him a whole hour to come up with. His brain grew one wrinkle in the process. For a little extra punch, he adds, “It’s propaganda I’m not falling for.”

“Using normalize and taboo in the same sentence feels a little contradictory, Joel. You’re starting to sound like one of those freaks with a stan account dedicated to Ellie or Tommy.”

He rolls his eyes and shoves his phone back into his pocket. They’re debating the ethics of reblogging other writers’ work right now, and he hasn’t the time to get into it. “You wouldn’t understand,” he grunts. “You’re fetishizing me, you’re glorifying your own abuse and manipulation, and you’re forcing everybody else to be on board with it too. It’s disgusting, Fellow Legal Adult, I’m actually disgusted.”

“Nobody has to be on board with anything they don’t want to,” you say. “That’s a pretty basic rule of thumb in anything, but especially sex. Are you sure you’ve had enough sex to understand the basic concept of consent? Maybe if you spent less time yelling in your tags, someone might want to…”

He laughs. “You’re just a girl who doesn’t know the ideologies she’s playing into.”

“Which ideologies are those?”

He hesitates. “Patriarchy,” he spits out, the word wobbling across his tongue. It sounds like a big word and it victimizes women, so it must be right. It seemed to come up a lot when he asked ChatGPT for an argument which both liberates and subjugates women. He has no idea what it actually means or how it ties into this discussion.

“So, let me get this straight. You think you’re punching a hole in the patriarchy by talking down to women and comparing them to real-life criminals, all for writing some stories on a fandom website?”

He hesitates. Again. He’s not used to having human interaction without his keyboard to hide behind.

Also: he hesitates because he’s not real. I can’t stress that enough. I’m making this dude do whatever the fuck I say. Look, now he’s on a pogo stick. He’s bouncing all over the fucking joint. Joel would never pogo, I hear you say. Too bad! Now he’s going no hands. Damn, this guy’s good.

“Why would women want to fantasize about some of the shit you write?” Joel asks.

Fuck. That’s a great question. I better make him put the pogo stick down.

“Sexuality is a complicated thing,” you reply. “It always has been. We’ve never really understood human desire; that’s kind of why it’s such a heavily-covered topic in media. It’s not supposed to be interpreted literally. The crazy thing is literature is full of metaphors and symbolism, but people only have a hard time understanding that shit when it comes to erotica.”

He scoffs, twisting the pogo stick into the ground. “So you want me to believe you don’t actually want to fuck the people you’re writing about?”

You purse your lips. “I feel like it says more about your intelligence level that you can’t wrap your head around the concept of a metaphor, than it does mine. Maybe you wanna read more books and less anonymous messages?”

“No, thank you,” he says, waving his hand. “I don’t like to be made to feel uncomfortable. By anything. Ever. I live in my bubble of legality and morality. We’re all good people here. That’s why we have an obligation to bully the living shit out of anyone we disagree with, and threaten their personal safety in the process.”

“Right.” You back up, dragging the heels of your sneakers – sorry, your Victorian boots, no ankles. Suddenly, the thought of sleeping with someone so stupid and immature doesn’t feel as fun anymore.

“Where are you going?” he asks, pogoing after you. His voice shudders as the stick makes contact with the earth.

“I think I’m gonna close this doc,” you mumble, gathering your frock as you jog. “I’ll just open a new one and write a version of you who’s normal and doesn’t talk out of his ass as much.”

“Good luck with that,” he replies. “That’s totally out of character for me.”

In one click, he pauses, glitches, pogo stick springing – before he plummets into the recycle bin on your screen. The silence is bliss.

You look around the room. Outside, birds sing and cars soar by on the street. You remember that the real world exists; with real rules and real codes of conduct which help to protect real people. With real patriarchy: not fictional girls in sundresses who like summers of sex, but instead an insidious rot which runs so deep through society, it threatens to permeate the fantastical.

Here on your screen, a blank page and cursor blinking, just waiting for the stories and silliness you might spill into it – none of that shit has to matter. You are safe within the realm of fiction to be whoever you like, do whatever you want. Even shit that makes other people uncomfortable. Think of it like an intellectual jungle gym for adults.

You can paint yourself brave, beautiful, funny, smart, sexy. You can chase your wildest dreams, accomplish the impossible, fraternize with your favorite characters and exist in faraway universes. You can be desired by everybody you ever wanted, or nobody at all. You can explore things that make you feel good, things that make you feel scared, and no harm can ever come from it.

Hell, you might even learn a thing or two about yourself in the process.

That’s the fucking point of fantasy, you incel pieces of shit. Read a fucking book.

[malsmind]

think twice next time.

𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

contain ➛ ⋆ jealous!matt ⋆ dom!matt ⋆ possessive behavior ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ edging ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ begging ⋆ spanking ⋆ creampie ⋆

𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦!

word count: 1.1k

the night had been long. the kind that clung to your skin and filled your head with a static hum. everything smelled like sweat, vodka, and smoke. you were still trying to shake the sting of cheap tequila off your tongue when matt led you inside, hand low on your back, but colder than usual. you didn’t notice it at first. too drunk. too warm. stumbling over your heels and giggling, talking about dumb shit. you remembered leaning in to chris—only to shout over the music, your lips brushing his ear—and matt had seen it. his jaw had clenched. you didn’t realize he’d been pissed since then. not until much later.

“do you and chris have the same dick?”

you had laughed when you said it. slurred and teasing, a stupid joke, but your voice had been loud. too loud. matt had gone quiet after that. painfully quiet.

and now you were both in bed. naked, as usual. the room was dim, just the streetlight bleeding in through the blinds. your skin buzzed with alcohol and leftover adrenaline, but his was still. stiff. you rolled closer, pressing into his warmth. he shrugged you off. didn’t even say a word. just gently pushed your hand off his chest, like you were annoying him.

“matt?” you whispered, inching closer again, cheek against his shoulder.

he didn’t look at you. didn’t speak. phone in his hand, thumb scrolling, eyes trained on the screen. but you weren’t fucking stupid. you felt the heat boiling under his skin. the tension in his jaw. you felt it all.

the third time he pushed you away, something snapped in you.

“okay,” you muttered, straddling his hips and knocking the phone right out of his hand, letting it thud to the carpet.

his eyes met yours finally. tired. annoyed. but something else too. something darker.

“what are you doing?” his voice was flat.

your fingers ghosted up his bare chest, slow, deliberate. “trying to get my boyfriend to stop acting like a dick.”

he sighed through his nose. jaw tight. you leaned in, lips brushing the edge of his neck, soft kisses trailing lower. “can you stop?” he muttered.

you pulled back. looked down at him. his face was unreadable. but his body wasn’t. his body betrayed him—the way his cock strained against his boxers under you, the way his chest rose a little faster.

“what is wrong with you, matt? why are you so pissed?”

“hm. i wonder why,” he scoffed.

you blinked. breath catching in frustration. “matt—i was joking. i don’t give a shit about chris’s dick.”

he didn’t respond. just stared at the ceiling. like it wasn’t eating him alive inside. so you leaned back down, kissing lower, biting gently at his collarbone. he flinched. not because he didn’t want it—but because he wanted it too much.

“y/n. i’m deadass. quit it.”

your pussy pressed hard against the shape of him under the thin fabric. you were warm. wet. desperate. “i’m horny,” you whispered.

“i’m not.”

“bullshit.”

his hands gripped your thighs now, rough. finally. and something in him snapped.

“well,” he muttered, voice low and venomous, “i didn’t appreciate your fuckin’ joke.”

before you could say anything, he flipped you, fast and effortless. you were on your hands and knees in seconds. the mattress dipped behind you. you felt his knuckles dragging down your spine, his breath on your neck. then the sharp slap on your ass. loud. punishing.

you hissed, back arching, lips curling into a grin. “matt—”

“don’t,” he warned.

you heard his boxers shift down, felt the heat of him lining up behind you. his tip teased your entrance, slow and cruel. “you don’t deserve this, y’know that right?”

“still want it,” you breathed, smug.

another slap. harder.

but then he sank into you.

your whole body jolted. breath caught, mouth falling open as he bottomed out in one harsh thrust. you moaned, loud, raw, grabbing at the sheets, your body trembling from how deep he was already. his hips didn’t give you a second to adjust. didn’t slow down. they snapped into you like he was working something out of himself. hard. rough. brutal. the sound of skin slapping echoed, your moans spilling out uncontrollably.

“mine,” he growled, fingers bruising into your hips. “you wanna talk about my brother’s dick again?”

“no—fuck, no,” you gasped, head dropping.

“say it again and i’ll fuck you in front of him. maybe then you’ll shut up.”

his words were vicious. but his cock was even meaner, hitting that spot so deep you couldn’t think. couldn’t speak. just cried out as pleasure built hard and fast.

“matt—i’m gonna—please—”

he stopped. everything stopped.

you whined, desperate. your pussy clenched around nothing, aching. “no-matt—no please!”

he spanked you again. “you wanna cum, yeah?”

“yes—yes, please.”

he leaned over you, lips brushing your ear. “then fuckin’ think twice next time.”

he drove into you again, harder than before, like he wanted to make you forget how to even speak. he kept you on edge. brought you close. over and over. stopped just before you tipped.

“beg for it,” he muttered, dragging a hand between your legs, circling your clit.

“please. matt—please, baby, i need it. i’ll be good, i swear, i swear.”

your words were falling apart. and finally—finally—he gave in.

“cum on my cock.” he commanded.

and you did.

hard.

your whole body shook, cunt pulsing around him, the pressure finally snapping and dragging a strangled scream from your throat. he followed, groaning into your shoulder, pulling your body back onto his as he came deep, hot, hard. you collapsed into the sheets, breathless. his chest pressed to your back. both of you sweaty, still.

he kissed your shoulder, silent for a second. then whispered:

“you’re mine. no jokes.”

you smiled into the pillow. “i know.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

Speak up...

jegulus x Vodka Cranberry - cw: angst, canon compliant - word count: 440

He’d expected yelling. 

He’d been dissociating since it’d happened, tears sometimes sliding down his cheeks without him even realizing, each swallow thick and difficult to complete. But in the back of his brain, some coherent part of him was panicking.

Body cold and chest empty, limbs shaking and breath coming out in short little gasps, he held out his forearm to James, expecting a….well, a reaction of some kind. 

But he just watched as blank eyes seemed to laser holes in the skull branded to his skin. Neither of them spoke a word for what felt like forever.

Until James took a deep, shuddering breath and met his eyes, a terrifying and almost cold look in the depths of his hazel irises. “Alright,” he said, sounding far too exhausted to only be seventeen. “Alright. We’ll deal with it.”

But for some reason, even though this was the exact verbal reaction Regulus wanted, it felt all wrong. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do that, Potter,” he said. “I know you hate me.”

James immediately scoffed. “I don’t hate you, Regulus. It happened. You…you couldn’t help it.” But the foreign, rough way his words hit Regulus’s heart like sandpaper betrayed the truth–James didn’t believe that. He was lying to Regulus’s face for the first time.

And all at once, reality hit him:

This wasn’t going to work.

It was never meant to work.

Fuck. Don’t make me do this, Jamie, he thought desperately, stomach churning so much he almost gagged as he realized where this was going. Where they were always, inevitably meant to go.

“You can walk away, James,” he said flatly, desperately trying to keep his voice calm, to hide the storm of emotions brewing inside his heart, threatening to make him scream with grief. Why? Why was this the ending he’d been given? His hands shook harder, and he shoved them in his pocket, covering the way his face wanted to crumple by scowling.

“I promised I wouldn’t,” the older boy nearly-spat.

Not ‘I don’t want to.’ Not  ‘I still love you.’ Just ‘I promised I wouldn’t.’

Because James was good.

And Regulus, branded and condemned, was not.

So he took a deep breath, and sealed both of their fates. “Well. I don’t want you anymore,” he said, setting his jaw and clenching his hands so hard in his pockets his nails broke skin in his palms.

James’s destroyed, ruined expression nearly killed him. But walking away left him completely, utterly demolished, never to be fixed. 

He had to admit–the pain of being pulled under that water years later was nothing compared to seeing James Potter so heartbroken.

(credit to @whoopsiesnodaisies for pointing out that Vodka Cranberry is SO Jegulus)

[jacksabbotts]

✧ caught in the cold — ❪ part six ❫

. ᵒ . ➛ PAIR . dr. jack abbot ( the pitt ) x fem!morguetech!reader . ᵒ . ➛ SUMMARY . after days of avoidance, emotional overload drives you to the hospital roof—six prep sheets too many, one too-loud memory too far. you just need air. silence. solitude. what you get instead is jack abbott. already there. already listening.

. ᵒ . ➛ TRIGGER WARNINGS . lowercase intended!!! emotional spiral / anxious overthinking, self-deprecating inner monologue, implied crush / unrequited feelings ( perceived ), power imbalance ( attending physician x hospital staff ), flirting in a professional setting, profanity

. ᵒ . ➛ AUTHOR NOTES . i am sooo sorry it took absolutely forever to get this posted. i have been struggling on how to get morgue and jack to the next step now that she has confessed and still make it realistic with morgue girl's and jacks differing personality. also so sorry this is so freaking short its just a lil transition chap and trust me it is about to get good. lastly, i want to remind that concepts are not apart of the main universe ( aka the chapters ) and are simple au's for the main universe if that makes any sense at all.

series masterlist || inbox || ggc request form ━━━ * ✷ ⊹ * ˚ ✷ dividers by @cafekitsune and @uzmacchiato

JOIN THE JACKSABBOTTS 1K EXTRAVAGANZA HERE or REQUEST FOR jack abbot x morgue tech!reader

the door to the roof creaked open with its usual rusted groan.

you stepped through it like a ghost. shoulders tight. breath short. your scrubs hung loose, streaked with powder and formalin and god knew what else. your hands still smelled like bleach. your brain still pulsed with the click of scalpels and body bags and endless, impossible numbers.

six.

six full preps left behind for you. day shift gone. howell’s clipboard full. the day shift tech voice in your head cheerfully reminding you that the medical examiner's day starts at six am sharp!

your shift didn’t even have time for three. so you came up here. for air. for silence. for a breakdown in peace. you didn’t even check if the roof was empty.

'unbelievable,' you muttered, dragging both hands through your hair. 'six bodies. six. like i’m not human. like i don’t breathe. like—like it’s not insane to leave one tech with six fucking preps like that’s normal.'

you immediatly covered your mouth at the curse because that wasn't you. you weren't one to let your anger get the better of you and you weren't one to let words like that slip. all in testament to your predicament. you paced to the center of the roof. breath fogged the air in small bursts.

'i’m so tired,' you whispered. 'and i can’t even think straight because all i can hear is him.' you laughed, dry and cracked. 'what the fuck is wrong with me!'

you squeezed your eyes shut. 'because apparently one sentence—one coat—can short-circuit my entire life. i can’t go five minutes without remembering how he said i wasn’t a practice body.' your voice cracked. 'who even says that?'

a breeze blew. you didn’t notice but you did look up.

and then you saw him. jack.

oh, fuck me.

standing near the far edge. silhouetted against the skyline. arms crossed. head slightly tilted. he turned slowly. quietly. and your blood ran cold.

'oh my god,' you croaked, stumbling back a step. 'i didn’t—dr. abbot. i didn’t know you were—'

'yeah,' he said softly. 'i figured.' his voice wasn’t angry. it was something else. something that made your skin go hot and cold all at once. 'how much did you hear?'

jack took a few steps forward, out of the shadows, into the spill of light from the rooftop bulbs. 'enough.' you wanted to vanish.

'i was just—i needed air, i wasn’t thinking, and i didn’t mean—'

'why are you avoiding me?' his voice was quiet. steady.

you opened your mouth. closed it. because you didn’t have an answer that didn’t sound pathetic. he stepped closer. not too close. just enough that you could see the concern in his eyes. the exhaustion. the quiet ache beneath it.

'was it the coat?'

'no—'

'the compliments?'

'no, i—'

'was it the part where i said i liked you?' his mouth twitched like it wanted to smile but didn’t have the nerve. you finally spoke. quiet. honest. small.

'i didn’t think you meant it.'

jack blinked. 'why?'

you stared at your shoes. 'because people don’t mean things like that when they say them to people like me.'

silence.

dead, still silence.

and then jack stepped over the railing and walked toward you. you stepped back. he stopped. and then he said, voice low and level. 'i'm sorry, for making thinks worse for you.'

jack took one more step forward. gentle. careful. looking for any sign that you didn't want him to move closer to you. 'you know, i’ve been thinking about it too.'

your breath caught. 'the coat. the compliment. your face when i said it.' his voice dropped to something raw. 'and how much i wanted to say more.'

you stared at him.

he ran a hand through his hair. 'i didn’t push. i didn’t follow you after because i thought maybe you regretted the whole thing. that maybe i’d crossed a line. but hearing you talk just now…'

he finally looked at you—really looked. 'i’m not sorry, morgue girl.' his voice cracked open with softness. 'i’m not sorry i noticed. i’m not sorry i care. even if you don't believe me.'

you didn’t know what to say.

so he filled the silence.

'i don’t care how many bodies you’ve got waiting. i don’t care if you label scalpels or talk to corpses or live in the basement like a ghost.' a soft huff of a laugh.

'i like you,' he said. 'exactly as you are. warm or cold. overthinking or quiet. i like you.'

and then, quieter, 'but if you want me to stop… say the word. i will.' you swallowed hard. your eyes burned. and all you could whisper was. 'i didn't say that, i just—'

'what are you saying?' he asked. it should have been an easy question. what were you really saying? what did you want? as much as you wanted to say you wanted him and his sweet words. you couldn't make yourself speak.

he took another step closer. he was now standing right in front of you. 'tell me what you want.' it wasn't a request. it wasn't a question. it was a command, an order.

and god, if it didn't make your stomach swirl. if it didn't make you want to melt on the spot. you wanted to close your eyes. you wanted to break eye contact before you burst at the seams. you wanted to tell him exactly what you wanted. you wanted—

'you have to say it out loud, sweetheart.'

'oh my gosh.' you groaned, finally burying your head into your hands and breaking the eye contact you were sure was about to kill you. but he wasn't having it. he reached for you, finally, and his fingers brushed your own as he gentle pried your hands off your face.

'look at me, sweetheart.' he mumbled. 'look at me and tell me what you want.'

you groaned loudly. because why the heck was he so persistent. you took a deep breath and looked at him, like he told you to. you looked at him honestly and told him the only thing you knew how. 'this is really hard for me.'

he nodded. 'i know.' he mumbled and then untangled his fingers from you and you frowned. he almost thought it was cute. he brought both his hands to both sides of your face.

'i — i like the compliments. i do, its just — they make me loose focus, i can't concentrate because i sit there and i think about them non stop. i think — i think about you . . . non stop.' you confessed in the only way you knew how, word vomit. 'honestly, i don't think its really healthy the way i think about you and how much i think about you. and really its just —'

you stop talking abruptly when you see the smirk on his face and the impending laugh and you think he's laughing at you. and really you don't blame him. you probably sound so pathetic to him right now. 'and now your laughing at me. i knew this was a mistake.'

his smile immediately fell. 'no, no, no — i am not laughing at you. i am just surprised that you told me all that, your not exactly the most open person, sweetheart.'

and melt. you are a puddle on the ground. here lies the contents of you. cause of death, jack mother fucking abbot. 'so does this mean, your going to stop avoiding me like the plague.'

you flush. 'i wanna say yes, but honestly. i might unintentionally avoid you more. but please don't take it personally.' you confess.

you don't know what it is about jack abbot that makes you unintentionally bare your soul for him to judge with a mere request. he could probably say jump and you would shyly ask how high. it makes you both flush with embarrassment and makes you want to hit yourself for being so fucking whipped for a man you met a month ago ( and not to mention a man who yelled at you the first time you met. )

🔖  .   @princesssunderworld  @mayabbot  @imherefordeanandbones  @arigoldsblog  @oldmanbunnylover  @i-mushi  @autumnleaves1991-blog  @lovelexi717  @peggyofoz @qtmoonies  @nfwmb-gvf   @babybatreads  @cheekym8s  @bitteroceanlove  @spooky-librarian-ghost  @dr-yapper  @yutasgem  @keseqna  @gardeniarose13  @witchbitchlovesdilfs  @sotragedynut  @robbyrosierobinavitch  @anglophileforlife @flyinglama  @sillymuffintrashflap @letstryagaintomorrow @caterpillarskimono @maiamore @madzleigh01 @qardasngan @imightbeinsanebutwtv  @foolishseven @anxiousfuckupon  @coldmuffinbanditshoe  @blueliketheseaa  @justfaefaeee  @sweetdayme4427  @404creep  @yourdaydreamerfan  @ddrawers96  @m14mags   @twiddledeedumsworld  @jetless  @thedamnqueenofhell  @topnerd03  @abllor @loud-mouph @cannonindeez @nubecita040   @beebeechaos  @cwzham  @homebytheharbor  @painment  @namgification   @catmomstyles3 @livingavilaloca  @hello-lisa1026  @emma8895eb  @shadowfoxy @thesnugglingduck @britt217 @reignbooks8506 @kmc1989 @chuiisi  @Lumpypoll @generalstarlightobjest @dlljdhsh @misshoneypaper @Sabi127 @Coleground @sevenberry @Cherry_cosmos @idontcarenoughtonamethis @Sammiib444 

if your user is white instead of gray it means i was not able to tag you, i copy and pasted straight from the forms so that means there must be typo, feel free to resubmit a form ( linked below ) and i will update the taglist. this not all the people who have requested to be tagged ( i am one person and i will get everyone on the list at some point. thank you !!!! * ✷ ⊹ * ˚  want to join the morgue tech!reader taglist??? click here!!!!

[homoeroticjunoincident]

id: text ‘why do you follow me?’. below are colored circles with a color name on the circle and text below it.

raspberry: I need your help to kill God.

seafoam: To understand what the fuck is wrong with you

charcoal: You have the best takes

russet: I need to borrow some money

navy: You are literally so sexy 😳

sage: IDK and every day I grow closer to blocking you

lilac: You make my dash better and I cherish you

harlequin: To remind me that there are still people more insane than I am on this website

apricot: I’m slowly poisoning you a little bit every day

steel: You post the most beautiful art/fics/edits

sapphire: I want to put you under a microscope and study you

carmine: I’m on one knee proposing [heart emoticon]

forest: You are the stupidest motherfucker alive and I love you

mulberry: We should be having (more) gay sex

lemon: Funniest tags known to man

end id

[bullet-prooflove]

A Bad Night: Jack Abbot x Reader x Michael "Robby" Robinavitch

Tagging: @kmc1989 @daydreamsareallineed @starstruckunknown-princess @sillymuffintrashflap @thedamnqueenofhell

Summary: A bad night leads the boys to confess their feelings for you.

Prequel piece to:

Together - Jack comes home to find Robby in the kitchen and you sleeping the morning away.

Pretty Girl - Jack and Robby spend a little quality time with their pretty girl.

Shift Work - Robby knows you've got something on your mind.

Dr Daddy & The Short King - Jack confronts you about the transfer at your fire station.

The difference been being a third and being two other people’s partner is emotional compatibility. Something you have in spades with both Robby and Jack, which is where the conundrum starts because a threesome is one thing but a relationship is another and they’re trying to figure out where this whole thing with you is leading.

It’s something the two of them have been circling for a while now because they both know the other is in love with you. Robby was the first to admit it but Jack was the first to understand the depth of it.

It comes to a head the night you end up staying over at their place because you get off your split shift to find a pipe has burst in your apartment. It’s three in the morning and you don’t have any other place to go that isn’t the firehouse.

When you turn up, they can tell it’s been a bad night even without the deluge of water that’s flooded your apartment. You look wrung out, exhausted, like the world is falling apart underneath your feet. You don’t want to talk about it, you make that clear within the first three seconds of stepping inside their house, you just want to sleep.

Jack gives you one of his t-shirts because you literally have nothing but the clothes on your back. When you toss them out through the gap in the door, he puts them into the washer on an overnight spin, leaving you to get dressed in the bedroom.

It’s when he comes out the laundry room that he’s confronted by Robby, he’s standing there in those grey sweatpants and his faded Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise t-short. Everytime Jack tries wear anything like sweatpants they end up bunched up around the top ridge of his prosthetic which is why he wears plaid straight legged bottoms to bed on the colder nights.

It’s the look on Robby’s face that tells Jack this situation is a problem, a real fucking problem and they both know it.

“She’s not sleeping on the couch.” Jack says firmly, his arms crossed over his chest as he faces off against Robby. “She’s wrecked, she needs a real fucking bed and someone to take care of her.”

“And that’s the issue isn’t it Jack?” Robby responds, scrubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “We both want to take care of her and we both know that doesn’t come from a place of friendship. If we get into bed with her right now this has the potential to go wrong in so many different ways-”

“Robby.” Jack asserts, holding up his hand to slow his boyfriend’s roll. “That woman is falling apart. We both know how touch starved she is, she needs comfort, physical fucking comfort, someone to take her in their arms and tell her that everything is going to be ok. You know what that’s like, I know what that’s like, so I really don’t see what we’re arguing about here.”

“Jack-”

But Jack’s already marching through the house, opening the bedroom door and the moment Robby lays eyes on you, that decision is made for him because he can’t fucking stand the sight of how vulnerable you look in that moment. You’re curled up like a tiny abandoned kitten right in the centre of their mattress, the sheets drawn up around you as if you’re trying to block out the rest of the world.

Jack may have opened the door but it’s Robby who takes the first steps, who sits on the edge of the bed, his palm lightly smoothing the hair off your features as you look up at him with the saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

“Anna…” He says softly. “What do you need?”

You close your eyes, burying your face even deeper into the quilt and Robby understands. Its so fucking hard for you to ask for things you want, to show any level of vulnerability because it’s been beaten into you time and time again that it’s a weakness, that bad things happen when you let people in.

“Ok.” His whispers, his voice rough. “We’re just gonna hold you tonight ok? No funny business. Jack’s going to have your back, I’m gonna be right here in front of you where you can see me. Are you ok that with that?”

You give the briefest of nods and Jack closes the bedroom door behind him before he approaches the bed with a determination in his eyes that Robby fell in love with all those years ago. It takes him a second to remove him prosthetic. He sets it in front of the nightstand, tucking himself into bed behind you, his arm looping around your waist, bringing your back flush against his chest. His chin hooks over your shoulder, his grizzled cheek rubbing affectionately against yours, nuzzling close.

Robby waits until Jack’s content with his positioning before he climbs underneath the sheets. His long legs tangle with yours, his socked feet rubbing over your cold ones to warm them as his forehead presses against your own. He takes your hand and places your palm against his chest, just over the space where his heart resides, thundering underneath the tips of your fingers.

“This thing in my chest, it only beats for the two of you Anna.” He tells you softly. “I want you to think about that as you fall asleep, I want you to know how loved you are, how safe you are. Jack and I…”

He trails off because he isn’t sure if you want to hear those words but it’s Jack that takes over, Jack that thinks you need to hear them now more than ever.

“We love you Anna.” Jack tells you, his voice rumbling in his chest. “We’re all yours if you want us.”

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[kaidoslastbraincell]

'they drown out the voices...' (part 3) / baby saja x HUNTRIX!reader

Part 1, Part 2

tag list: @rolly-polly-molly @airwolf92 @kpopmultistans @zeeisforme

KPDH MASTERLIST HERE

could we finally be getting a confession out of our Baby??? not sure how I feel about this one...not my best work but hope y'all enjoy anyways lmao this will be the second to last Baby fic for a couple of weeks while i try and write more for Mystery and Abs but - if you're only here for Baby - stay tuned...there will be more!

pairings: Baby Saja x HUNTRIX!reader

Four out of ten shows down, and everyone was starting to feel it. With Zoey's energy unwavering, Mystery had been stuck by your side after every gig, desperate for some semblance of peace. But Baby wanted his peace too...you were his peace. He was starting to get sick of it. Demons were jealous creatures...possessive. And you were his.

He wanted to confess with a thought-out gesture, like he'd been planning with Jinu and Romance, but his patience was wearing thinner than your mental stability. The two of you were holding hands on your way up to the apartment when the grey-haired Saja slumped against you, heavy arms over your shoulders. You reached back to ruffle his hair with a tired smile. Baby growled...low and warning. Mystery simply rolled his eyes behind his bangs. You sighed.

When everyone was finally settled in the living room of the HUNTRIX apartment, Baby immediately bagged the seat beside you on the sofa. Green eyes flashed gold as they narrowed at his bandmate. Mystery just shrugged, sitting on the floor by your feet and resting his head against your knees. You side-eyed him. Can guarantee he'd have peed on you to 'mark his territory' if he didn't think you'd kill him for it. Instead, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You shuffled around a bit to get comfortable before finally settling into him. He was comfy. More so than you'd like to admit.

After the sixth concert of the tour, Baby snaps. It was 3AM when he'd wandered into the HUNTRIX kitchen, passing the living room on his way there. And when he glanced over, he froze. There you were...with him. You and Mystery were curled up on the sofa, under separate blankets, but leaning against each other. He shouldn't have felt so angry. Mystery was with Zoey. The two of you were practically soul siblings. But it simmered. You were whispering to each other. The grey-haired Saja rarely spoke to anyone, unless he was alone with you or Zoey. And when his bandmate smiled so fondly...so...genuinely, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, that simmer boiled over. He all but stomped over to the two of you, his glare aimed at you this time. Not Mystery. His patterns were pulsing, and his eyes burned. Mystery sat straight, preparing. Waiting.

"I need to talk to you," he growled, "alone."

Mystery shook his head, deciding that if he was ever going to speak in front of more than one person at a time, it would be now.

"I'm not leaving her with you while you're like this. Why the hell are you so pissed?" That was a lot of words...

Baby's eyes widened in surprise. "So he does speak?"

"Baby," you frowned, "what's wrong?"

The two boys continued glaring at one another.

"Leave. Now." Baby hissed.

"No."

You reached for Baby's hand, desperate to calm him down before things escalated.

"It's okay, dude," you smiled awkwardly at your grey-haired friend. But he wasn't having it.

"You know what we are. You know how we can get when we're angry. I'm staying."

Baby had had enough. His golden glare turned back to you.

"You're always with him. Why?"

"Because he's one of my best friends?" Your confusion was only growing.

"He's constantly all over you! I hate it!"

You'd never seen so much emotion cross the green-haired boy's face.

"Watch your tone!" Mystery growled.

"You shut the fuck up," Baby pointed a clawed finger in his face.

"Seriously, Baby, what's going on? We're not a couple or anything, so why does it bother you so much?!"

He grabbed your wrists in a grip so tight you were sure it would bruise. For a second, you didn't recognise the boy you were so close to. You knew you could handle yourself, but the fact that he was being so careless with you when he'd always been so soft...hurt.

"Because I fucking love you, okay!!" He practically snarled in your face, tugging you closer by your hands, and his glare intensified. "I love you. And I don't know what to do with these fucking feelings because I've never had them until you, and seeing him around you all the damn time makes me want to kill him and burn the world to the ground!!!"

You froze. Mystery gagged. Jinu and Rumi were peeking through the crack in their door.

"That's my cue," Mystery huffed, quickly ruffling your hair.

He turned to Baby one last time. "If you hurt her, I'll rip you apart with my teeth...and enjoy every second of it."

With the two of you finally alone, you frowned up at the demon who'd just declared his love for you. You wanted to ask him to repeat every word he just said. You wanted to ask him how long he'd felt this way. Why didn't he say anything sooner? But before you could get a word out, his lips were on yours. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly to his chest as his mouth laid claim. It was rough and angry, and you felt it all the way down to your toes. When his fangs snagged on your bottom lip and his tongue met yours, he fucking whimpered. Oh...you were fucked. He pulled back to catch his breath, and you flicked his forehead.

"You didn't have to be such a dickhead about it!" you glared, but there was no real heat behind it.

He had the audacity to shrug.

"But at least I'm your dickhead."